I'd grown up in the western end of Waynesboro, Pennsylvania, at 19 Price Avenue.  Now I think it's North Price Ave.  It was a large old double house which my Dad owned.  He'd rented out the one side (17).   As a rather small child, about 10 years old, I was an adventurous boy, and when there was nothing to, the day drew long and relatively boring.  However, we boys in the neighborhood were usually quick in finding something more exciting to do. One bright summer day, we were trying to find something exciting for several young boys to do.  We didn't want to get into trouble, but we did want fun. One of the boys suggested that we go up to "Old Man Good's" farm, where there was an old cistern on. Many times we would crawl down into that hole and it was cool and we could discuss our boyhood secrets.  We all thought that was a great idea. It was a place about 6 feet high, and 8 ft by 12 ft...   at least that's what my mind remembers.  Of course, I'm sure it was well over a half century old.  I was small then and that room may have seemed a lot larger than it really was. So we walked across the field, across from our homes, where we played baseball and football, and we built our biggest and best snowmen there.  Then up Tritle Avenue to the end.  There we'd turn up King Street, which was nothing more than a grassy alleyway. But there was a big old cherry tree on King Street.  It was a Black Cherry tree. We'd always get our fill of the sweet cherries as we passed. Then at the top of the King Street hill, where it met the end of Frick Avenue, there was a gate, into a field, that went into Mr Good's corn field.  Straight ahead was "Good's Woods" between the corn field and the rail road.  On the left, was the noll.  We walked up that hill to the old cistern. We got down into the cistern and threw pebbles against the far wall so we could hear the echo...   but we soon tired of that. Then Greg said that he knew of something that would be a LOT of fun...   but he wouldn't tell us what it was. We all helped each other out of the hole, and began walking on toward the woods. As we can out the other side of the woods, there was the railroad.  I didn't quite understand what we could do on a rail road...   look for spikes maybe?  We've done that many times before since there are a lot of railroads through Waynesboro due to all the industry which was there at that time.  But that wasn't his idea. We walked a short distance along the rails until we rounded the last curve before the trestle where the railroad crossed the West Branch of the Antietam Creek and Prices Church Road. This was a place where where the creek runs parallel to Price's Church Road. (this tressle and the railroad is now gone. Sadly, it's only a memory now...) As we were approaching the tressle, Greg said that this was where the fun starts.  I'm not sure why, but Greg always seemed to have the neatest ideas.  Some could have gotten us into trouble though...    like this time...   sort of. With the trestle barely in sight, we see, resting along the side of the tracks, an old handcar.  But after sitting there for [probably] decades, it wasn't much to look at.  In fact, it wasn't much at all.  No handles, no floor...   just a rickety old frame, four large iron wheels and an axle.  But in was still quite heavy for five or six young boys. The old handcar would have looked something like this one when it was new. Someone asked what we were going to do...   Greg said we were going to ride it across the trestle.  WOW!  What an adventure, we thought. This trestle was about 30-40 feet high, and about a quarter mile long.  Along the trestle, there was no walkway, but rather two or three small platforms which were about 3x3 ft. and hung off the side of the tressle. The rails were all down grade, for about a mile, from where the old handcar was to about a half mile beyond the end of the trestle. So here we were, boys looking at the greatest adventure they'd ever had. So we started working the old handcar toward the rails.  Little by little, we inched the handcar toward the rails.  It was such difficult work.  Especially getting those big heavy iron wheels over the tracks. Finally after a lot of grunting, groaning and straining...   we got it on the tracks.  Then we had to find something to use as a brake since it had none;   ...just in case... We found old pieces of wood that was apparently from the handcar itself.  We could wedge them between the wheels and what was left of the frame. Then we began pushing...   harder and faster, then we all jumped on while trying to find a place to sit and to hang on...   but there was not much there when it was only a frame with wheels. We held tight as we rolled gradually faster down the tracks toward the trestle.  Faster and faster the creaking, old, handcar rolled toward trestle.  Then the suddenly ground suddenly dropped from under us and we were headed across the tressle at about 25 miles per hour. When we got about 1/3 of the way across, we heard the bad news.  The horn of the train coming toward town...   and headon toward us.  As we listened, we all looked past the far end of the tressle to where the rails curve around a hill. Our hearts pounded as we heard the sound of the horn several more times to warn of it's presence.  But we couldn't be sure where the train was...   but indeed it WAS coming toward us.  Questions were rapidly flashing across my mind...   Where would we meet the train?  Would we still be on the trestle?  There was no way we could get off the old handcar while we were still on the trestle. My life was passing before me, and I believe it was the same with the others as well.  When mine flashed by, it was a quick 'PFFFFFTT' and it was over.  I realized that I didn't have much of a life yet...  it was so short and I didn't want to end with me pasted to the front of a locomotive on this trestle. As we were approaching the far end of the trestle, we saw the train coming around the curve, and heading toward the trestle...   would we make it?  Would, or could, the train stop in time? As we reached the end of the trestle, and we knew the ground was now under us, we furiously rammed our boards, that we had for brakes, between the iron wheels and the frame.  Parts of the remaining frame broke off and my board fell from my hands. I looked up ahead and all I saw was the front of a deisel locomotive...   it seemed so huge.  and it didn't seem to be slowing down.  Was the engineer even looking...   we didn't know.  We couldn't know. As we got down to about 10 miles per hour we all jumped off and stopped the old handcar.  All at once we lifed the end of the handcar and it was off the tracks.  Then we lifted the other end and it rolled down the slope into the ditch. As we ran down alongside the trestle, to get underneath, the huge locomotive passed overhead.  Bearly we escaped with our lives... I learned a great lesson that day.  One, never take on a locomotive.  You won't win.  Second, and most importantly, I learned a great Biblical promise.  There's strength in numbers.  We can't do anything alone.  If I was alone on that old handcar, I would probably not be here today. But with my friends there, all working together for a good cause, we were safe. I'm reminded that Jesus once said in Matthew 18:20 which says, "For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them." I can't do things alone, as I travel down the road of life.  I need help and that help only comes from Jesus Christ. I thank God that I came through this very difficult situation in one piece.  To God Be All the Glory. AEAMT Home Our Mission     Our Vision     Tenets of Faith From Us     The Pastor     Contact Us