Mike and Nancy were sitting in the back seat, John was in the passenger seat and Terry was driving her BMW 2002, though it was 1978.
They had just come from a really boring ballet dance class in Turlock where the instructor sought to hide her lack of expertise by
having them perform multiple repetitions of standard ballet exercises. She criticized them, but had no original dance moves for them
to practice. A sad commentary on dance in America, John mused.
He was frustrated, bored and watching the taillights of the car in front of them, thinking they’d get back to Sonora about 9 PM. Then
he would have the drive home to East Sonora, back to the farmhouse he shared with his girlfriend. he was wondering what kind of mood
Janice would be in. Her boss had been giving her grief lately and she was taking it out on him. Waitressing did not seem like a bad
job, but Janice made it into an ordeal. He hoped she was going to be pleasant for once.
Terry was always positive and upbeat. John liked being around her, even taking a ballet class in Turlock on Wednesday night so he could
talk with her as they drove down to Turlock and during the return drive to Sonora. John had first seen Terry as she was going to teach a dance class.
She taught modern dance at the
nearby community college where he went to school. They had struck up a conversation 18 months before and, now, he was seated in Terry’s car.
She was taking the shortcut back to Sonora. They were avoiding the drive North on Highway 99
to Modesto, then East on Highway 108 to Sonora. They were driving in a North Easterly direction on Oakdale Road and avoiding Modesto
completely. Even with the shortcut, they still had at least an hour and half drive before them.
The brake-lights of the line of cars they were following came on as they slowed and stopped for the stop sign at Santa Fe avenue, on the
other side of the train tracks. The crossing gates were up, the signals off. Terry brought her BMW to a stop on the railroad
tracks behind three cars.
John quickly looked to his left and to his right - the railroad tracks were empty. He kept his head towards his window, lowered his
face, made a
muffled “MMAW!” sound into his hand, raised
his head, turned quickly to Terry and shouted, “TRAIN!”
Terry’s face got very red in the headlights of the oncoming cars.
She stared straight ahead (Terry told John later, she almost soiled her armor). The cars in front of them accelerated across Santa Fe Avenue,
their taillights receding into the night as they drove away from them on Oakdale Road. The BMW stayed motionless on the railroad tracks. The cars
behind them started honking. Still, they did not move.
Finally, Terry turned to John. She said, slowly and deliberately, “If you ever do that again, you’re walking,” and then she moved
her car forward to the stop sign.
Nancy and Mike were laughing in the backseat.
