Tim lived about a quarter mile from an old freight line. I believe that CSX was the line that went through there but I'm not sure. The tracks have long since been taken up.

We spent many a spring and summer day walking up and down that track going down the hill to the trestle.

The first few times we went I was like the Jerry O'Connell character in Stand By Me. I was terrified that I was going to fall through the cracks. One big difference, though, was that we never got caught in the middle by a train. You could see at least a mile up the track in one direction and a half mile in the other.

Before we ever went out on the trestle, we'd put an ear on the rail. If anything was coming, you would be able to hear the rumble long before it came into view.

The trestle wasn't very high - maybe 15 feet. Two runs of a shallow creek went under it. The water was black and cold.

Most of the creeks in south Georgia and I presume north Florida run black. Well, not really black. They are more the color of brewed tea. Decayed vegetation is what stains the water.

Over the years Tim and a few other kids in the neighborhood had built a stone dam across the west fork of the creek. This brought the water up from knee deep to maybe waist deep. We couldn't get it any deeper than that.

We noticed that raising the level on the west side made the east side run faster. We got the bright idea of building a dam across the east side.

We piled rocks in there for most of an afternoon without making a dent in the creek's flow. It was apparently much deeper than the other side. We decided to abandon the project.

Over the years we probably picked up fifty pounds of coal laying around the tracks. Nobody we knew burned it. We figured we'd use it for something at some point. We never did.

We graduated and went out separate ways. His dad and mom are gone now. The homestead has been sold.

It's been 40 years, but I'd like to go back and see if anything's still there. I know that the rails are gone and so are the cross ties. I wonder about the trestle and the rocks.

Are they still there?

Would they remember me?

Image credit: trainweb.org