Bad luck with trains tends to run in our family. Within a span of twenty-five years, four different family members came too close to passing trains, twice with fatal results.
My grandmothers made up the more-fortunate half of this catalogue. Grandma Montgomery’s incident is the one I know the least about. I know she and her mother were riding in a car that was actually struck by a passing train, and I’ve since learned that Grandma always bore a scar on her forearm as a result. Thankfully, both Grandma Montgomery and Grandma Wilson lived to tell this tale.
Grandma Hoffmann was the luckiest of the four, although her story was no less frightening. A neighboring farmer was taking Grandma, her mother, and her sister Marilyn into town. They were riding in an enclosed, horse-drawn wagon, with Lena and Marilyn in the back and Grandma on the wagon seat with the driver. …
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