Midnight train to Scranton

     Yesterday as I was driving to work, I was detained by a passing freight train.  When the caboose finally rolled by, it reminded me of my Grandfather Shebby, who had worked on the Erie-Lackawanna for most of his life.  My Grandfather never learned how to drive a car, but went to work on the railroad by hopping on to the back of the caboose as it crossed the railroad crossing.
     Though he was a quiet man, he did have a few railroad stories he told to his grandchildren.  The most facinating tale happened one dark night along a lonely stretch of track between Duryea, and Scranton, Pennsylvania.  Grandpa and a co-worker were sitting in a railroad shack having a cup of coffee, waiting for the midnight train to pass.  It was their job to throw the switch so the train would be on the right track and not run into the 1 AM train traveling up the track from Wilk-Barre.

     According to Grandpa, he had pulled out his pocket watch to check the time and then he head down to the tracks.  As he approched the switch, he could hear the train in the distance.  With both hands on the lever, he felt someone touch his shoulder. "D'ya have a match, Mac?" he heard a voice in the dark ask.  "Wait until I throw the switch," my Grandfather, replied.  When he turned around, no one was there.  Just then, the tain roared by.  After switching the tracks back, my Grandfather, walked back to the railroad shack.  

     Once back at the shack, Gandpa told his co-worker about his eerie encounter, only to find out that it was a common experience to anyone who threw the midnight switch along that pecticular strech of track.  Apparently, it was the last act for the poor man who was killed on the tracks so many years ago, that no one could remembered his name.