Standing on the bridge, who can resist the urge to leap into an empty railroad car as it passes below? But will yours be a James Bond jump or a hobo nosedive? In other words, will you land on your feet in a king fu stance and ready for battle, or will you smack your head on the metal floor and emerge covered in coal dust? For some reason, the future always makes decisions about your life while you're in mid-air.
Liminality is a much over-used word these days, but with good reason: we seem to trundle through the course of our lives by repeatedly falling into a neverending succession of these empty railroad cars, creaking along an endless track with no determinable destination, watching other possible futures fall into the cracks between the sleepers then disappear into the churning ballast beneath, hoping the signalman directs your train into an appropriate siding.
So Happy Hallowe'en. Apparently, I am dressing up as the Reverend Wilbert Awdry with a serious hangover if this post is anything to go by, and shall carve a pumpkin into the shape of the Fat Controller's head, for he is a relentless distributor of tricks and treats.
