(The Ames, Iowa, Tribune posted the following article by David Lahner on its website on February 27. Brother Lahner is the Legislative Representative of BLET Division 6 in Boone, Iowa.)
It’s a cool, sunny, day and we’re rumbling eastward at 50 mph approaching Ames. We are 13,000 horsepower, 7,600 feet long, and 19,300 tons of Northern Wyoming fossil fuel headed to Chicago.
A few miles west of West Ames, we look east for signals governing our movement. The green signals and orange X’s at North Dakota Avenue are illuminated. The crossings look clear.
I glance to the south. New construction has progressed westward closer to the farm fields. Again and again I cringe with sorrow and relive a tragic episode as we pass the Ontario elevator. A human life was taken at that point.
I still see his face every time I travel by that location. We were traveling at 24 mph. I watched him get hit! To be honest, I could handle his death but wasn’t prepared to find him alive and moaning. His face was torn off and he had a punctured lung. It was a cold evening and steam was rising from the puncture. He died five hours later.
That is why we are so concerned about the no whistle zone through Ames. In the past I have actually carried dead bodies to the ambulance after they were run over.
Today, auto traffic has stopped and no pedestrians are in sight. We curve left and separate back yard gardens from corn fields. The X’s at Scholl Road crossing are flashing and no autos, walkers, animals or obstructions are in our path. The heart of Ames is now a few miles down hill from us and we mentally prepare for a 40 mph. trip through town.
We feel the tonnage against our backs pushing the engines. The law of gravity sets in the curves and we have reversed our motors to generators, helping to hold us back. We are listening via radio for anything ahead and are alert to a hot journal detector signaling us our wheels are OK and we have no dragging equipment.
We travel under a wooden overhead road and then curve right over 13th Street. The next signal determines if we stop or proceed. Our signal is green but we still have to set the air brakes due to the steep, snaky grade of College Farm Hill.
I look back at the curve. A crosswind is carrying ancient dinosaur dust from our cargo. Ahead, Pammel Court has been replaced by huge apartments. No horses are out today and it looks like a new electric plant is being built. It’s too cold for baseball and Brookside Park is empty. We see die-hard skateboarders on the north. An old railroad bridge on the south takes me back 30 years to when coal was delivered by rail to the college.
The crossing X’s at Hazel Ave are working and traffic has stopped. We release the brakes on the deadly 19,300 tons of steel and burnable soil and sit forward on the edge of our chairs as we curve left. Many trees and shrubs have restricted our view of Clark, Kellogg and Duff avenues.
We are a train traveling at 40 mph, using little warning as we round the old train depot. Our eyes strain to see through the unsafe beautification project – ash trees and shrubs – that blocks our sight to the crossings in the heart of populated downtown Ames. We know that if anything or anyone is in our path, they are doomed. We won’t be able to stop for at least a mile. We know we are not responsible for accidents and death but the terror and memory remains with us forever.
Last year on Jan. 25, March 23, June 2 and 26, July 6, 9, 14 and 15, Aug. 26, Sept. 6 and 7 and Nov. 19, I personally witnessed malfunctions at the crossings through Ames. I wonder to myself, why is the city willing to risk life and limb for an ill-advised beautification project that could be altered to more safely work with the automatic crossing system?
We breathe a sigh of relief! Duff Avenue is clear and we didn’t blow the train’s whistle, not even once through populated Ames.
We curve right and pass through the electric plant’s fog. The hobo who lived on the north side of the tracks has moved to an unknown location and the water of the lime pit on the south still radiates a brilliant turquoise color. The Skunk River has iced over and no one is on the shooting range. The landfill has grown taller.
We are thrilled we no longer need to deal with Dayton Avenue traffic jams as we proceed under the new overhead bridge. Soon we are under Interstate 35 and marvel at the new Barilla plant. It’s a great addition to the city. I am pleased the beaver dam just a quarter mile away has not been disturbed by progress.
The hundreds of other sights not mentioned were not unseen.
We have traveled just 17 miles from the time we got on this train. Only 183 miles left to this crew’s change point and another brick will have been placed in the wall to building America, but first, we prepare for the next town.