I’ve been working on the railroad all the livelong day….

Whoever wrote that old lyric back in the 1800’s sure knew what they were talking about! Plus, the railroad I was working on was real, living history from that period. 

The Strasburg Railroad is a trip back in time to the glory days of the steam engine.  It draws train enthusiasts from all over the world to travel in old school style. Families love it too, especially at Christmas.

My seasonal job was to ride the rails all day, going car to car with my partner Jill, playing Christmas carols for the passengers on my flugelhorn with my brass duo called Holiday Horns (Jill plays French horn). 

All the livelong day… a fifty minute train ride every hour from 9am- 5pm, then one more at 7pm.  

At 6pm we had a badly needed dinner break, which we almost always spent eating tomato pepperjack soup at Isaac’s deli, about half a mile down the road from the station. That soup was good!

One Saturday night I had an additional, quick errand to run, so Jill and I drove separately to Isaac’s. 

I usually rode in her car, so I was a little surprised at how dark the entrance way to the railroad was as I returned for the 7pm train. I was also a bit distracted, jamming to  one of my favorite Christmas CDs.

Dark road. Distracting music. Bad combo.

As I veered left into the parking lot, the road turned very unsteady. Almost immediately, the car slipped. 

Then- boom! The loud bang startled me as I felt the left side of the car fall into what seemed like a massive pothole; several inches deep and as long as a rail car.

The jolt snapped me back to awareness, but I didn’t believe what I saw out the windshield. My left tire was in between two train rails, and my right wheel was outside them both. The car was straddling the tracks like a motorcyclist on a Harley.

Shit! What happened?

Turns out the combination of low light and distracting music caused me to “halfway miss” the driveway into the railroad parking lot, right at the spot where a set of train tracks cuts through the asphalt before curving away to the left. I had hit the driveway at the perfectly wrong angle, surfed the rail for a second, and landed in my awkward pose, straddling the 1850 rail tracks in my 1992 Geo Storm.

I sat there for a second; partly stunned, resisting panic. The train was leaving in less than 20 minutes. What should I do?

I decided to ask for advice at the ticket booth.  My flugelhorn was with me in case I had to hop the train before figuring out the car situation.

“Hi- I’m one of the musicians on the train, and I got my car stuck on the tracks down by the entrance.”

The ticket lady could see by my outfit that I was a musician on the train, but her expression let me know that she seriously doubted my “car on the tracks” bit.

“It’s down there.”  I pointed.

“Oh my!” she said when she looked. “How did you even do that?”

“I’m not sure. Also I’m supposed to be on the train in 15 minutes. I just wanted to let somebody know the car would be there for a while.”

“Well, let me call down to the shop.” she said. “They’re pretty good down there- I bet they can help.”

The shop was pretty impressive. They build and maintain every aspect of the Strasburg Railroad from engine to caboose.  Maybe they actually could help.

“Scott Lefever’s there tonight.” she said. “Let’s see what he says.”

“Scott Lefever! I know him! We go to the same church!”

She smiled, picked up the phone and dialed the number.

“Hey Scott, there’s a gentleman here named Todd Fulginiti who says he knows you.”

“Oh yeah- hey Todd!”, came the reply through the receiver.

The ticket lady went on. “He also has his car stuck on the tracks by the entrance.”

“Haha no he doesn’t- that must be a joke.”

“Hey Scott,” I yell towards the phone. “It’s no joke. My car is stuck on the tracks.”

“Oh my God how did you even do that? Let me come take a look, I bet we can lift it.”

Lift it? Really? I doubt it.

A few minutes later Scott and a crew of about six other shop guys were standing with me at the car, all marveling at my impressive feat of stupidity.

“What do you think?”, Scott asked.

“I think we can lift it.” said someone. “As long as the bumper holds.”

Great….add a bumper replacement to the festivities…

Almost before I could finish that thought, the shop guys surrounded the vehicle and got their grip.  On somebody’s count, they lifted the car up several inches, carried it about 3 feet to the side, and put it down in the grass like they were moving a piece of furniture.

Problem solved!

I couldn’t believe they did that so quickly and with such ease.

“Unbelievable!”, I said. “Thanks very much!”

“No problem buddy!” came the reply.  “But roads not rails from now on, ok?”

I drove off the grass and successfully re-entered the parking lot. The car seemed no worse for the wear, and I stepped on the train with a few minutes to spare.

By the time we left the station, the whole crew was asking me about my little adventure. Apparently, those shop guys can spread news as fast as they move cars.

As of a few days ago on Christmas Eve, I completed my 20th season playing on the Strasburg Railroad Christmas trains and my “car on the tracks” incident is close to 15 years old. But, as stories like these tend to do, the tale lives on , and I still get playfully teased about it from those who know what happened.

Follow Five O’Clock Shadow for more of Todd’s writing, and visit www.toddfulginiti.com for his music events. You can also listen to Holiday Horns wherever you stream music