http://blogs2.startribune.com/blogs/oldnews/archives/233 Minnesota history at your fingertips Mon, 23 Nov 2009 17:47:46 +0000 http://wordpress.org/?v=2.3.3 http://blogs2.startribune.com/blogs/oldnews/archives/233#comment-1840 Dave Sours Mon, 30 Jun 2008 14:08:22 +0000 http://blogs2.startribune.com/blogs/oldnews/archives/233#comment-1840 Similar warning. "Stay off the trestle," meaning the Arcola trestle on Lake Minnetonka. On August 26, 1970, when I was 10 years old, a friend and I were walking on the trestle. It was a hot day and I was barefooted, so I was concentrating on keeping my feet out of the tar on the ties. I turned around to see how my friend was doing, and the train was there instead! It had been honking, but I was concentrating too hard to notice! I tried to get over to one of the supports that stuck out from the sides of the bridge, but it was too late. The train knocked me off the bridge and into the channel, face down and unconscious. A fisherman saw it happen and rowed over and pulled me out. I woke up in the boat on shore and looked up to see the train stopped on the trestle. I tipped my head back and saw a bunch of people lining the rail on the highway 15 bridge. I figured out what had happened, and the first words out of my mouth were, "Don't tell my mom! She'll kill me!" She was already there. My friend had climbed down the support posts and biked home (full of slivers) to get help. I had 56 stiches in my back, a couple of fractured ribs, and a knot in the back of my head that still hurts when I push on it. The story may have wound up in the Minneapolis Star or Tribune. I remember a reporter coming to our home to interview me a few days later. Then there was the time I got hit by a car on highway 12 after my mother had warned me not to bike along highway 12... Similar warning. “Stay off the trestle,” meaning the Arcola trestle on Lake Minnetonka. On August 26, 1970, when I was 10 years old, a friend and I were walking on the trestle. It was a hot day and I was barefooted, so I was concentrating on keeping my feet out of the tar on the ties. I turned around to see how my friend was doing, and the train was there instead! It had been honking, but I was concentrating too hard to notice! I tried to get over to one of the supports that stuck out from the sides of the bridge, but it was too late. The train knocked me off the bridge and into the channel, face down and unconscious. A fisherman saw it happen and rowed over and pulled me out. I woke up in the boat on shore and looked up to see the train stopped on the trestle. I tipped my head back and saw a bunch of people lining the rail on the highway 15 bridge. I figured out what had happened, and the first words out of my mouth were, “Don’t tell my mom! She’ll kill me!” She was already there. My friend had climbed down the support posts and biked home (full of slivers) to get help. I had 56 stiches in my back, a couple of fractured ribs, and a knot in the back of my head that still hurts when I push on it. The story may have wound up in the Minneapolis Star or Tribune. I remember a reporter coming to our home to interview me a few days later. Then there was the time I got hit by a car on highway 12 after my mother had warned me not to bike along highway 12…

]]> http://blogs2.startribune.com/blogs/oldnews/archives/233#comment-1832 andrea mauer Sun, 29 Jun 2008 23:00:34 +0000 http://blogs2.startribune.com/blogs/oldnews/archives/233#comment-1832 "Stay off the tracks!" That was our warning we always ignored as walking the railroad tracks was the quickest way to get "uptown" in Albert Lea. I was about 8 was reenacting how someone could possibly get their shoe caught in the tracks and then actually did get my shoe caught. Naturally we heard the whistle and a train was approaching just like in the movies. I started to cry and my older sister pulled me out of my shoe and up a bridge enbankment and we climbed to the top under the bridge. I cried now out of fear and now to see my precious bag of "hot cashews" tumbled down the concrete to the tracks. “Stay off the tracks!” That was our warning we always ignored as walking the railroad tracks was the quickest way to get “uptown” in Albert Lea. I was about 8 was reenacting how someone could possibly get their shoe caught in the tracks and then actually did get my shoe caught. Naturally we heard the whistle and a train was approaching just like in the movies. I started to cry and my older sister pulled me out of my shoe and up a bridge enbankment and we climbed to the top under the bridge. I cried now out of fear and now to see my precious bag of “hot cashews” tumbled down the concrete to the tracks.

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