When I was kid my folks bought a little two bedroom house and moved the family to town. We had always lived in rented houses "out in the country" so everyone seemed to be excited about the move. Now, I can't imagine wanting to leave the country life for the city.
But, I was only four when we moved into the house, and soon learned to tune out the sights and sounds that were far different than the ones to which I was accustomed; the whistle of the train that was hauling crude oil to the refinery, the stink of the refinery itself, and of course the constant rumble of the trash trucks heading past our house to the city dump.
Location, location, location.....I'm not sure my parents were made aware of that rule of thumb when buying their first piece of real estate. But, as a youngster, I learned to appreciate some of the opportunities it provided.
If a person was not averse to risk, he might hitch a ride on the back of one of the slow-moving trains and cut the walk down to the river trestle by half. Then, upon arrival at the bridge, one might learn how to swing down from the outside edge over the river, and drop to the concrete pillars that supported the trestle. Not many people were aware of the 2x12 timbers that formed a little crawl space under the bridge, but for those who were either brave or foolish enough to crawl out to the middle of the river, it was a great place to hang out.
I'm not aware of anyone who had the nerve to jump into the river as it flowed over the rocks below, but it was not because it wasn't discussed at length. For the most part, it was just a good place to escape from everything for awhile, shoot .22s at snakes, turtles, fish, and anything else that happened to float by. Occasionally, you might be "fortunate" enough to experience the tremendous vibration, heat, and noise of the train as it lumbered across the trestle directly over your head.
I recall these things only because they are the stories that were related to me by those rowdy kids of my neighborhood.......I swear it wasn't me who did it.....But, then again, my memory fails me at times, and it's quite often that I simply have to say, "what do I know".
