The tunnel was three miles long dark at the maw before me. If you took a deep breath you could smell the smoke of steam engine and coal fires. From a hundred years ago.
The rim was black with painted smoke smears up the sides of the portal. Beckoning to roll back in time, calling me to pedal forth and test the limits of my sight and balance. The longest tunnel on the Sparta-Elroy bike trail, newly opened, rarely ridden
I was twenty-two, on my red Italian Bottechia bike with panniers, tent and sleeping bag. Being followed by teens and tweens on everything from Raleigh three speeds to wide tired JC Higgins with a twisting bell handle for one of the grips. These were troubled kids on an adventure in an open world unknown to them from their ghettos and tight quartered apartments in Milwaukee and beyond.
I could hear the call outs – “I don’t want ride down there; Man, that looks scary; What if the train (long defunct and no tracks) comes through while we’re inside?”
“This is follow the leader,” I shouted “I’ll bring up the rear so no one gets swallowed up by the dark.”
There are plenty of fuck you retorts, until I reminded them food and camp was now on the other side so if they stay here they’ll sleep outside with the coyotes and timber wolves. That dark being far scarier than the tunnel with a pin of light at the end.
Off they finally went and like some time warp it sucked each one of them in until they are invisible in the dark. I mounted up, turning on my bike lamp so I wouldn’t miss a toppled soul as I pedal along and in my loud baritone singing, “the worms crawl in, the worms crawl out, the worms play pinocle on your snout.” I raise my voice – “there’s one little worm who’s not so shy he crawls in your nose and crawls out your eye” There are choruses of asshole echoing around the dark stone interior.
I start blowing a whistle, which sounds immense and piercing in the chamber – the dot of light the size of a silver dollar now – as I start pedaling faster screaming “Oh my GOD the train’s coming, the train’s coming” – I can see the boys in panic picking up speed, moving as fast as legs will take them to outrun the ghost coming in hot pursuit. They burst from the other end into bright sunlight, unable to see and careen off to the side so the imaginary engine can puff by in a flurry. I come sauntering out arms raised in triumph, no hands on the handle bars, pedaling with as much nonchalance as I can muster.
“What?” I say. “Wasn’t that scary? Wait until we do it tomorrow going the other way. At least you’ll be able to see the train coming.”
That night the sky was filled with stars and a moon so big and blue, it was possible to bag up and sleep in the fresh air. You could hear the many tales spread among them about not being scared, you peed your pants, screamed like a girl, man that was cool, until sleep overtakes.
Yep, wait until tomorrow when you’ll see it coming, the ghost train and the three-mile tunnel.