I am in Kannapolis, North Carolina, on vacation. My dad recently moved here. Naturally we are exploring the area — did you know that Salisbury steak comes from the time a train’s chef didn’t have a T-Bone for a passenger, so he made him two burger patties mashed together as they pulled into the Salisbury station here?
In fact, the area’s history is heavy on the trains. And hence the poem (and pics) here today, which resulted from our visit to the North Carolina Transportation Museum.
The Spencer Wheelhouse
Enough’s been written now about old 97,
The way she rushed downhill to reach the Spencer Yards,
How she ran the rails ragged off the Stillhouse Trestle
And died a steamer’s death, splinters all afire.
Continue reading »