Something unusual happened to me last week–I was delayed by a freight train.
As I sat there waiting, I became a bit nostalgic. My husband and I were raised just outside Chicago–where long train delays are a daily frustration. Chicago boasts the greatest number of lines coming in to and out of any city in North America, and prides itself for hauling the most freight-mostly coal and farm products.
Minnesota is only eighth in its railroad lines and carries primarily iron ore and farm products. Fortunately for Minnesota residents, waiting for a train is a rare phenomenon.
So, I sat there reminiscing, enjoying the sounds of the wheels and the squeaking of the couplings as they went down the tracks. Reflexively, I was counting…1, 2, 3, caboose….1, 2, 3, caboose…The last car came into sight and the gates chimed their opening, but I felt a little cheated–the last car– was just another boxcar. What happened to cabooses?
