Originally Posted by Unca_Sam

"One early summer day, not long after my 12th birthday, I took my new 'copper tone' Stingray Krate down Caesar's Lane on my way to the railroad tracks that still run along the Hudson on their way to the south and under the hill the Academy sits on. The hopper cars were usually full of crushed rock from the quarries to the south, and were perfect for squashing pennies into oblong, curled wafers. Ya see, flattened pennies were worth much more than a regular penny, since you could trade one of them for a pack of Big Red, or Juicy Fruit, which cost a nickel. There were only an handful of kids who'd squash the pennies, and a school full of kids eager to have one of their own. Ma said the gum would rot my teeth and we couldn't afford the dentist, so trading was the only way I could get the stuff. The tracks were on the other side of US 9, which was a busy highway before the Interstates were built, and just past the trailer park where the drunks and outcasts lived. I wasn't chicken, so I was going to get in on that train penny racket. I had just got my bike as a Christmas present. Ma said Pa had saved for it since my grades were good and I was helping Ma out so he could work extra shifts, and it was the first nice day to go for a ride.
I rode out of the apartment complex entrance and down the hill to the highway, and to the tracks on the other side. I rolled up the the edge of the highway, pushed the suicide shifter all the way forward, and looked for my break in the traffic. I saw my chance, and mashed those pedals with all the might my legs could manage to get to the lot on the other side of the highway, and the footpath that led to the trailer park and the tracks behind them. I rolled down the footpath through the trees and arrived at the tracks, and every thought I had about getting a summer's supply of chewing gum vanished from my mind. On the rocky ballast next to the tracks was a body, unmistakably mangled by a passing train. I went for a closer look and saw that the train's heavy wheels had mangled the corpse badly. I knew an opportunity when I saw it, though, so I looked for a small piece I could show off as proof to my buddies. I settled on a tattooed finger. I didn't want to bring the piece into the apartment where Ma could find it, so I hid the finger under the seat in the open end of the seatpost where it fit perfectly. I took stick and dug a shallow pit a little way from the ballast to hide a few other choice parts in, then dragged the wetter pieces closer to the river. I was going to have favors from Chuck, Bobby, and Joey for life by just letting them look at the bones!

I had my plan in place. I just needed to come back another time with a sack to move the other pieces with, probably after dark. Unfortunately for me, while trying to get back across US 9, I misjudged a semi's speed, and it hit me dead on. I know, it doesn't make sense. If I was squashed by a semi, how am I telling you about it? Well, hear me out: just before I felt the grill of that Mack touch my cheek and the sound of screaming tires stopped, I wished that I could be back home. It was dark and quiet for a second, and then two. Then another two. When I opened my eyes, half expecting to see fiery pits and Old Scratch himself, I saw instead the ceiling of my room. I was in my bed, and I didn't have a scratch on me. My bike was in the storage area, where I usually kept it, in perfect condition.

That summer saw the worst measles outbreak in a generation that affected most of the upstate area. Ma wouldn't let me out, and told me that Bobby Maddox had gone to the hospital and died because of the measles. I was afraid to ride the bike after that anyway, and convinced myself that I dreamt it all. I wasn't long before I became distracted by girls that suddenly started to look different than they used to and I began pursuing my other interests with vigor.

Anyway, I just buried Ma, still in New Windsor, and visited a few spots I remember from my youth. Most places were really different, but the spot where I hid some of the body was just like I remembered or rather, thought I dreamed it looked like. I realized that I hadn't been dreaming; I was supposed to die on US 9 that day. I think the bike and the finger had something to do with it, and I have a few more wishes I'd like to make."