Day and night, the Bangor and Aroostook Railway trains would blow their comical whistles on the way through. We could hear the chugging and see the great puffs of coal smoke and steam pouring skyward.
I rather liked those trains until the day my Dad returned to us from the US Navy. That day, I met the great black monster up close and personal for the first time. Only two at the time, my entire being was so absorbed with it's awfulness that I will never, ever forget it unless my mind stops functioning. And I have a feeling that might be among my last lucid thoughts if that ever happens.
It was an exciting day. My grandmother and her sister (my Aunt Ola) scrubbed me and shined me, dressed me in something nice, and combed my hair to perfection. My Daddy was coming home and my Mum had gone to meet him. They were about to come in to the Littleton Station by train. I was excited about seeing my parents and about seeing the train, too.
We loaded ourselves into Grampies's square-topped, 1930-something, black Oldsmobile and headed to the station -- probably a mile from Grammie's and Grampie's. Always fascinated by the car key, I watched and listened as its tag banged against the dashboard of the old car. Down over the hill we went and around the corner from US Route 1 onto the Station Road. We drove to the place where the tracks crossed the road. The picture above is of those very tracks when they were being repaired in the 1950s.
There was a rather wide platform that ran the length of the old train station and I was enjoying the scene from the comfort of my great aunt's arms, when suddenly they said, "here it comes"! You could see quite a distance down the track and here came the great, black engine with its one, big eye. It seemed to be rushing faster than a charging bull. And all of a sudden it became just as threatening as a charging bull -- maybe more so!
It huffed and puffed and wheezed at terrifying decibles. The platform began to vibrate and then shake violently. The brakes were hit and the iron wheels screamed along the rails. The horrific whistle blew, smoke and steam poured everywhere from it. I SCREAMED! I was terrified and I screamed again, as loudly as I could but I couldn't even hear myself scream. My eyes were wide with horror because that thing was going to get me. But wait!
Suddenly the tightness in my throat was gone and my heart and lungs began to catch a more normal rhythm. That's because I SAW someone -- someone was standing on the steps of the train, hanging onto the bar with one hand and waving wildly with the other. It was my DADDY! I was safe after all.
To my memory, his were the first feet on the platform and Mum was right behind him. Oh, what a happy day. And, yes! As soon as we got back to Gram's and the excitement started to die down, he had a surprise for me.
As we gathered around, he sat in Grammie's rocker near her iron cook stove and dumped the contents of his white canvas sea bag onto the floor between his feet. At the VERY top of that pile of clothing and possessions was a familiar box -- the box of thin mints. And they were especially for ME. Well, I had to share them but they were MINE.
I remember that Oldsmobile. It had paper windowshades to keep out the sun!!! By my time, though, the trains were all diesel and nobody actually RODE on them. They were strictly freight. What a shame!!!
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