The ride of your life

As my eyes shot open my hands flew to both sides of my pounding head. As it throbbed with each bang and clang of the train barreling down the track. The violent whistle of the locomotive felt as though it tore straight to my soul as it belted angerly through the night CHRR CHRRRRR CHRRRROOOOOOO. It felt as if the train itself was filled with despair, agony, and destruction. As it gained speed with every bang and clang of metal on metal as it barreled down the tracks.

“Where am I? how did I get here?” I thought staring out the window of the passenger car I had awoke in. Trying to scan the darkness for some kind of landmark or sign to establish where I was. But my vision barely made past the glow of the trains lighting before it faded to complete darkness. My hands rummaged through the pockets of my pants and coat trying to find some kind of clue. Perhaps a ticket stub, a receipt, a map. Nothing I could find no clue as to where I was, how I got here, where I was going, or why.

All I know is that the banging and clanging of the train grew louder and louder. I could feel the train continuing to go faster and faster as it grew speed. My hands darted to cover my ears as the angry whistle belted again CHRR CHRRRRR CHRRRROOOOOO. I felt every noise the train made straight to my very core. They seeped through my ears and invaded my body like a raging riot. Filling my mind in a violent rage of anger and torment.

Trying to gather my thoughts I scanned the passenger car to ask someone about the train’s departure or destination. But I was alone there were no other passengers in the car with me. As I left my seat to exam the rail car, I quickly noticed that I was in the train’s caboose. I made my way to the back door of the caboose and gazed out of the window. Bewilderment set in my eyes as I saw the tracks tearing up behind the train in swirling trails of flying sparks, flames, and metal before the view from the window faded into a blurry image. I rubbed my eyes quickly before looking back to the window. My eyes darted back and forth from the windows on the side of the car to the rear door window as images slowly crept over all of the windows. “My eyes must be playing tricks on me” I thought. It had just been night out but oddly enough looking out the caboose door window it was the middle of the day.

A beautiful sunny day and there was no train tracks, fire, or sparks behind us. I could no longer hear the chugging of the locomotive, the banging and clanging of the wheels tearing down the track, or that God forsaken whistle. In fact, I saw nothing to do with trains at all. Rather a blurred vision of a boy laughing and giggling on a swing set while a larger male figure pushed the swing from behind. I was just able to make out enough of the image to see that they appeared to be in a park or playground, and of course the bright smile of joy across the boy’s face as he and the swing soared through the air. For a brief moment a smile had come over my face, my heart felt warm, and I had forgotten all about the train. It felt as if I were standing there in the park watching through drunken eyes.

CHRR CHRRRRR CHRRRROOOOOO my hands flew to my ears once more as my eyes squinched close with the belting of the train reminding me where I was. I turned back to the rest of the car. Blurred images canvased the windows of the car in a swirl of color that looked almost magical. As I made my way across the car to the door that led to the other train cars, I could make out just enough of the images to notice it was the same blonde haired, bright eyed, vibrant little boy in each windowpane. Some he was playing with other children, others the male from the first image I had seen in the rear window “It must be his dad” I thought. In a few the man was joined by a woman whom I assumed to be the little boy’s mother. He rode bikes and played tag with the other children in the images as well as the two adults.

When I approached the other door of the caboose, the door that led to the rest of the train cars. I was frozen in shock. I could make out this image plain as day. The little boy in this image was the same little boy from all the others but now I could see him clearly and recognized him straight away. It was me, and this was a memory I remembered all too well. I stood under a streetlamp that had been placed at the bank of the lake beside an old boat dock at the campground I had practically lived at as a child. Dragon and willow flies darted and flurried around in the radius of the glow cast by the dull yellow light. I slowly retrieved my line equipped with just a few small split shot sinkers, a hook, and half a nightcrawler. Dad always hated it when I cast and retrieve my line like this, he said I lost to many hooks and worms. Though personally I think that he hated the fact he always got severely out fished by a young child much more. We had just finished arguing about it after he re tied a fresh hook on my line.

I couldn’t fight back the smile as I stood aboard the train watching my younger self’s reaction when the line tightened, and my rod doubled over. I remember at first being fear-stricken as dad had just put a fresh hook on and he was going to kill me because I’m hung up again. Then the line started to swim, and I knew what that meant fish on! I remembered this day like it was just yesterday. It was the first time I caught a largemouth bass. I laughed watching the 6- or 7-year-old version of myself fight the massive fish and my dad running across the boat dock to the bank to help me land it. It was only about a 2 to 3lb fish but at the time the largest I had ever caught.

When the image faded into the normal window as all the other images had done after I watched them. I opened the door and made my way to the next room without thought or hesitation. I was immediately struck with awe as I entered the next train car as all the windows in this car also were full of swirling color. Holding images in each that now I not only could make out but recognized as memories. I made my way across the train car stopping at each window looking back over the memories that they held. It seemed to sequence it had started at my youngest memory on the swing and in every image, I was just a little older.

I made my way through what felt like a hundred train cars though realistically it was probably only about four or five. Looking back over the memories of my life was a swirl of emotions. As I revisited the happiest to the worst memories in my life. I laughed, cried, and even got a little angry at some of the memories. “What the hell” I thought “Am I dead, is this my life flashing before my eyes?” I wondered and my mind raced. I was overwhelmed with the feeling of regret and confusion not to mention the emotions my memories stirred up. I finally came to a door and recognized the image as being last night. Coming in from a hard day working and making little money. My wife and I had just had a mild argument about the bills being behind and not much money coming in; but the memory wasn’t of the argument itself. I was standing at the counter fixing myself an old fashioned.

“That explains the pounding headache” I thought “I must have gotten drunk last night. I hope I didn’t get to drunk and do something stupid. Like end up dead.” My mind continued as I watched myself guzzle the first old fashioned before making a second. I slowly turned the handle to the door. Nervous about what the next train car would hold I had no more memories that I could think of to revisit. Hopefully the train still has more tracks ahead to adventure.

I opened the door making my way to the next train car. Immediately looking to the windows for more images. But no colors swirled on these windows, there were no more images just the darkness of night leading up to the star covered skies. My attention was quickly brought to a table at one of the windows. I saw the back of a man sitting there; he wore a sharp looking suit coat and a fedora hat. I could see smoke chimney up over his hat from in front of him and the satisfying smell of cigar smoke filled the car. “Oh shit” I thought “maybe I am dead, maybe the train has been my life flashing in front of me” my mind raced.

“Come sit with me” he said motioning for me to join him over his shoulder without even turning to face me. I slowly made my way across the train car to the table at which he sat.

“Please sit” he said pointing to the bench across from him. I sat on the bench across from him sizing him up as I did. He was an older gentleman probably late 60’s to mid-70’s. He had a short well-groomed snow-white beard and from under his hat it looked as if he kept his hair short and neat as well and fairly average size just a little thicker in the gut than me.

“Where am I” I asked as my voice crackled in fear and uncertainty.

“On a train, it appears” he joked sarcastically. “Care for a drink” he asked pointing to a bottle of Four Roses that sat on the table underneath the window alongside two whiskey glasses. Not as good as my preferred Bulleit bourbon but not a bad second choice especially in an old fashioned. At least it was at eye level in most liquor stores and not some bottom shelf garbage.

“Obviously I’m on a train” I shot back not so jokingly. My voice grew sterner and a little cold, slamming my fist on the table as I continued “Why am I on a train, where am I going, and how the hell did I get here.”

He glanced at the glasses as they rattled on the wood tabletop with the slamming of my fist. When they settled his gaze returned to me not saying anything. He just sat and puffed on his Connecticut shade cigar, from across the table it appeared to be a Montecristo White Series. He puffed on it a few times before bringing it to rest in the ashtray at the center of the table. He savored the smoke in his mouth for a moment as he pulled the glasses over in front of him and picking up the bottle. He removed the wooden corked lid from the bottle and poured each glass about a third of the way full.

“You have questions’’ he said as he let the smoke begin to exit his mouth in a chimney stream of smoke that rose above his hat. “I get it, I would be surprised if you didn’t have questions. Unfortunately, I don’t have any answers I’m merely here to provide the passengers comfort on their journey.” He said sliding one of the glasses over to me. I wasn’t accustomed to drinking my bourbon neat usually I had it in an old fashioned or at least on the rocks but who am I to complain about a free drink. He took a rather large sip of his bourbon with his free hand then refilled it back to the same level adding an extra splash to my glass as well. He put the lid back on the bottle and placed it back under the window. As he pulled his hand away the bottle vanished into thin air.

I about jumped out of my skin. “How the hell did you do that!” I exclaimed in just short of a feminine shriek. My heart raced like a dozen thoroughbred horses stampeding down a dirt tack. “What are you?” I asked as fear and bewilderment set across my face. Even I could see in my reflection in the window as my eyes darted back and forth from the man to wear the bottle had sat. I was ghost white.

He held up his right hand as if telling me to stop. “Easy” he said returning his hand to the table as he picked the cigar back up with the other. “I’m human the same as you” he chuckled. “It’s an illusion of the train. The bourbon in the glass is real as you drink it, but the bottle was never here you see.” He explained as he took a puff on his cigar.

He had said it as if it was really just that simple “It’s just an illusion” I thought.

“So, the train is magic then?” I curiously asked.

He took another draw on his cigar before responding “the train is whatever you want it to be.” He released the smoke from his mouth and placed the cigar back in the ashtray and reaching into his coat. “Tell me what you have seen so far” he continued.

“Memories!” I eagerly replied.

He removed his hand from his coat placing a lighter, clippers, and a Montecristo White Series cigar on the table sliding it over to me. “Yes of course memories, but tell me what you saw, what memories have you seen.” A devious grin overcame his face letting me know that he had succeeded in changing my thought path from questioning him allowing him to be the one to ask the questions.

It worked I clipped the head off the cigar and lit it taking a few puffs before telling him about the memory of my first largemouth. We sat and puffed our cigars sipping the bourbon for what felt like hours. As we talked about what all memories I had saw tonight. It was almost like reminiscing with an old friend as we laughed over some of the memories, and I even confessed to forgetting some of them over time. I was astonished at how comfortable it was talking to him. As we finished up our cigars and the bourbon had long run out, we laid them to rest in the ashtray a final time.

“So, what now?” I asked.

“Now you go on to the next car I suppose. It’s the only way you can go.” He replied.

I asked curiously “what do you mean?”

“Illusions” he said “the cars behind us are far gone now the only way left to go is to the next car. Then this one will be gone in its turn” he continued.

As bad as I wanted to question him, I knew it would be pointless. I left my seat on the bench and walked over to the door in which I had entered this car and gazed out the window. All that lay behind us was the sparks and flames of the track tearing up behind us. He placed his hand on my shoulder. I hadn’t even notice him leave the table coming up behind me.

“It’s time to go” he said as he led me across the train car to the door to the next.

“If the last memory I saw was last night, what lies behind the next door” I asked with a slight tremble in my voice.

“I don’t know. Hopefully more” he said opening the door and ushering me out of the car to make my way to the next. I entered the next car to see the windows of this one vibrant with swirling colors. “More images to see thank god” I thought. I closed the door behind me and watched out the back window. As the man had promised the last car, I was in detached from the train and began to disappear in the night before exploding into fire and shrapnel. I slowly turned to make my way across the car.

This car was confusing. The images in the windows was me, but they were not memories that I could remember. The images on the left side of the train displayed me living a life of wealth, success, and significance. A man who was focused on making an impact in the world and maintaining a healthy intimacy in my marriage. While the man in the images on the right overindulged in alcohol and his career and marriage seemed to fall apart. I continued on through about three more train cars. Watching the last car explode into the darkness before turning to the swirls of reds, blues, greens, yellows, and purple images forming in each window.

In each car both Me’s aged in sync with each other. The one on the lefts hair and beard whitened as he aged, and he kept it both short and neat. My wife, my sons, and I became wealthier, healthier, happier, and a lot more generous. As I watched myself grow into the kind of person that helps people, donates to charity, and use my wealth to try to make the world a better place. I saw us traveling to beautiful places and doing all kinds of amazing things.

The me in the windows on the right side of the train was not living as luxurious of a life as the other man. As his life continued to worsen and fall apart. His drinking got worse he got abusive and mean. Eventually my wife and stepson quit appearing in the images. As it seemed I had got bad enough to the point to completely drive them away and out of my life. My biological son got the worse end of it following my own example and leading a life of self-destruction and misery. The man on this side of the train I wanted to feel sorry for but felt as if he didn’t deserve it. He had it all and lost everything. He ended up homeless, wearing only dirty rags of clothing, and pushing a shopping cart down the street filled with what odds and ins he had as well as other trinkets he had scrounged up. His wiry greyish hair pulled back in a ponytail and his beard a greyish yellow that just looked dingy and dirty.

Finally, I came to the door I was both anxious and afraid to come to. The last train car this door would lead straight to the locomotive itself. As the swirling colors came to image. I was shocked to find this door held not one but two images. Wait not just images they were funerals. Funerals for the two Me’s in the same church though I didn’t recognize it. The images were one above the other. The top image was a beautiful service a true celebration of life. Flowers, decorations, the service was truly beautiful with several speakers and songs. Every pew in the building was full of people standing shoulder to shoulder down the side isles and the back of the church it was a full house.

The image below was a much grimmer sight with just a casket, a preacher, and a small handful of people that appeared to be in as bad of shape as that me had lived if not worse. The service for his funeral was rather sad and depressing a short sermon from the pastor a few sniffles of a man in the front row I assumed was my son, and a long drive to the final resting place. The images faded as the funeral guest left and the casket was lowered into the ground.

As it cleared back to a normal window staring out at the locomotive I jumped in shock. As I saw the man from earlier standing behind me in the reflection of the window. I turned to face him, and that devious smile came over his face as he said “Confused? I’d be surprised if you weren’t” almost teasingly.

“Yea a little” I said, “I just saw my future?” I questioned but he only nodded in response. “So, which future is mine?”

He paused staring mysteriously into my eyes for a moment. It was in that moment I recognized who he was. He was the me from the left side of the train. “It’s tricky” he said, “You could end up either or neither man from your visions.”

“I don’t understand. What does all of this mean? How can I end up one, the other or neither?” I asked, the confusion was starting to get so bad my head had begun to pound again.

“Well, you see our life is made up of choices and our choices determine how our ride pans out. Life is as simple as the train were on. You make your way from car to car, chapter to chapter, season to season, page to page. Your life changes as you go and the decisions you make control the way your ride goes. The beautiful thing is that you control the train; the speed, the journey, the destination you control it all. If you keep your train balanced, well maintained, and keep track with your pace the ride will be smooth, and you will remain in control keeping your train on the tracks. If you let your train, get out of sorts, the components remain unmaintained, and you race down the track without a pace your train will run away out of control and eventually derail. You get to choose your future, but you have to live for the future you want. If you want to control your future, you have to control your train.” He explained still rubbing his beard.

“Wait so I control my future?” I asked curiously.

“Of course, you do” he replied simply dropping his hand down by his side from his face.

“So, what now?” I asked not really wanting to know his answer.

“I’m not sure he said, on this train I’m just the conductor. Like I said I’m here for the comfort of the passengers. Now you must meet the engineer of your train.” He replied reaching around me to open the door that led to the locomotive.

He gently pushed me out the door into the coal car, climbed down and unattached the car he was on from the locomotive. I made my way across the coal car trying not to fall out on to the tracks. As I reached the door to the locomotive. I turned back and the me from the left side of the train hung out the door of his car waving at me. As the sparks and metal of the track flew up to the sides of him before like the others had done the train car exploded into a ball of fire and shrapnel lighting up the night sky.

I threw the door open to the locomotive and stepped inside. To my surprise I wasn’t surprised to find the me from the right side of the train driving my train. His coarse grey hair pulled back in a ponytail he had the bottle of Four Roses pressed up to his lips with his head tilted back guzzling the liquor. Some of it seeped out of his mouth and ran like a small river through a forest in his grungy looking greyish yellow beard.

He slammed the bottle on a makeshift table beside his chair turned and looked at me in wide eyed bewilderment. He didn’t say anything he just got a big snaggle toothed grin and reached up to the pocket on his grease covered railroad overalls and pulled out a soft pack of cheap menthol cigarettes. He shook one out of the pack and removed it the rest of the way with his lips and returned the pack to his pocket in exchange for a match. As he turned back to face the track ahead, he struck the match on the table and lit his cigarette and took a large drag. He removed the cigarette with his right hand. With his left hand he reached up to grab the pull cord for the whistle. His chest puffed out as he held the smoke in his lungs before finally letting the smoke out in a large cloud WHHHAAAAHHHOOOOOO he yelled as the smoke left his body.

I recognized a potent skunky smell in the smoke I almost chuckled remembering how I use to stuff the tips of my cigarettes in my younger wilder days apparently this me never kicked the habit. He took another drag off of his cigarette not holding this one nearly as long then gave the pull cord a couple quick tufts before belting the whistle CHRR CHRRRRR CHRRRROOOOOO AAARRRRRNNNNTTTTT ARRRRRRNNNNNTTTTT.

I shot up in bed as the alarm clock pulled me from my slumber. I was even more confused now than I had been on the train as it took me a moment to gather my thoughts. Cold sweat beaded down my forehead and back as my hands rubbed my pounding head. After I gathered myself, I got out of bed and dressed then made my way from the bedroom to the kitchen where I found my wife cooking pancakes and bacon. I didn’t even pay attention to how wonderful the frying bacon smelled in the pan as I walked over to her spun her around and kissed her on the lips as I wrapped my arms around her.

She pulled her head back enough to look me in the eyes “are you ok?” she laughed as she asked.

“Yea I just had a crazy dream” I replied.

As we sat and ate our breakfast, I couldn’t help but ponder back on my dream and what the better future me had said.

If you want to control your future, you have to control your train!