Train and the Guardian Angel

In the 1980s, the back roads of rural eastern Ohio were the fastest way to get to the best party spots. One night I was the DD. I drove a 1970s Pontiac that got about 2 gallons to the mile. The front seats of old cars were about the size and shape of a living room couch. You could easily squeeze four people into the front seat of my Pontiac and six in the back (eight if you could convince people to sit on the floorboards.) My two friends and I were in the front seat, taking a back road from party #1 heading to party #2. The few farms in the area have long driveways and there was no moon, so it was a very dark night. We were having fun speeding over the hills and the stomach-dropping dips in the road. 

And then someone calmly said “train.” I slammed on the brakes and the car jolted to a stop inches from black train cars at an unmarked RR-crossing. The night was so dark that I didn’t see the train until my car was nearly on top of it. Shocked (and sobered) we sat there for a good 2 minutes after the train passed. When I thanked my friend sitting in the middle for saying “train,” she swore she didn’t say it. She thought our friend in the window seat said it. That friend swore she hadn’t said it either. We all agreed we didn’t see the train until we almost hit it and we all agreed we heard someone say “train.” If I had not heard “train” I would have driven into the side of the rail car at about 60 mph. I’m not sure whose guardian angel spoke that night, but she saved the lives of three teenage girls.