or: "and the Lithuanian judge gives that an 8.6!"
Buffalo, NY, early 1960's. I'm somewhere in the range of five or six years old, wandering the railroad tracks that I've been told innumerable times to keep off of. This being me that we're talking about, I am oblivious to the world around me; totally engrossed in whatever weird 'young Terry' world I happened to be occupying on that particular day.
Suddenly a huge locomotive comes barreling around a blind curve at 500 MPH* and starts blaring the horn of imminent manglement. Imagine, if you will, how I instantly dove head-first off of the tracks, cruised gracefully down the embankment, passing through tree limbs and brush on the way, and ended up jammed to the shoulders in one of those wooden bushel baskets used for apples (that had been dropped amongst said bushes) - with my head poking out after having busted through the bottom.
Damned trains have no consideration.
* Note that '500 MPH' is possibly a slight exaggeration.
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