Guest post by Frederick Manfred Simon.
June 8, 2018
Turning another silent into a violent
night. A methodical violence that is: disturbing the dead and the
dead-asleep alike. Hootin’, rootin’ and a tootin’ – Cowboys
and their metal mares – as if nightmarish apparitions ridin’ into
some souled high plains town on steel horses to wrangle then, just as
quickly as they appear, steal away with the community’s bounty like
booty. No, not like that nefarious ’69 cinematic Wild Bunch, but
professionals. A Band of Brothers. Eastern Washington Gateway
Railroaders. Die-hards. In fact. Present day grunts armed with orders
to take; comms to coordinate the taking; the skill to execute the
taking near effortlessly; the precision to take as efficiently as
possible. Boots-on-the-ground, got each other's six operators
operating on the cusp of railroading past. High above, the recently
retired CWGG wheat laurels logo still and still will herald the
arrival and departure of this timeless cacophony as it will the
corrugated crib elevator with its bearing friction 40’ cars box
platform permanently chained, rusted in the upright position. A
scene, but for the crew van, anachronistic: may as well be unfolding
in 1968 instead of a half-century later. Whatever century it may be,
or what wristed analog standard railroad time, or obstacle, the
objective is accomplished. Always.
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