Sax-Zim
The codepole has fallen, the Union Switch and Signal installations much the same; but time hasn't quite killed all the real-time magic of the Missabe quite yet. The steam gargantuan of yore, the maroon diesel, the face and economic place of the space has changed; yet the throb of dedicated commerce still emanates from the fog resting along HWY 7. The gathering hordes, enticed by the lashing of three B&LE tunnel motors, has not appeared ahead or behind this empty Fairlane loader; a vintage moment, serene and alone, still to be had upon the railroad earth.
Or maybe not, hell I wasn't there when the things I think are interesting were actually happening.
Sax-Zim
The codepole has fallen, the Union Switch and Signal installations much the same; but time hasn't quite killed all the real-time magic of the Missabe quite yet. The steam gargantuan of yore, the maroon diesel, the face and economic place of the space has changed; yet the throb of dedicated commerce still emanates from the fog resting along HWY 7. The gathering hordes, enticed by the lashing of three B&LE tunnel motors, has not appeared ahead or behind this empty Fairlane loader; a vintage moment, serene and alone, still to be had upon the railroad earth.
Or maybe not, hell I wasn't there when the things I think are interesting were actually happening.