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To this day, I don’t know why I gamble on the train-crossing route to work like I do.

The part of my brain operated by Sensible Mike always urges caution on these matters. Take and the slightly longer route with no train crossing, You’ll be glad you did. Don’t go the other way next to the train yard or you will get burned.

But I rarely listen.

Instead I follow the part of my brain fueled by Chili Cheese Fritos and years of carbonated beverages. It’s like having a lunchroom bully riding around on your left shoulder all day.

It happened today, For some reason, I drove down Queen Avenue toward the train crossing.

Wait for it. Here it comes. First comes the flashing lights followed by the crossing bars descending over the road.

And I wait. The procession of train cars moves at 5 miles per hour in front of me.

Then it stops and reverses the other direction at the same plodding pace. After 30 seconds, the train stops with a lurch and then reverses direction once again.

It’s easy to get frustrated, to throw things and say bad words. But then the thought comes to me. Nobody forced you to come this way. Cars waiting in the other lane effectively seal off my escape route.

I sit and I stare glumly out the window for a few minutes as the intermittent wipers fight away the showers. Sports talk spews forth from the radio.

Suddenly I realize I don’t have to do this. I pull my iTouch out of my pocket, and for the next five minutes, I review my calendar and enter in some to-do items. This is so much better than staring at graffiti-covered train cars in front of me.

I see the last car approaching and close my list in anticipation of departure.

As the day progresses, stressful events pile on top of each other like groceries at the end of the conveyor belt.

But I know how to deal with them.

Thanks in part to my time at the train crossing.

Train photo from here.