The chill factor.

[Jay]

That last picture is amazing! Did they really build 'em like that?

 

[Big Man]

I know what you mean by the "chill factor". The old homeplace sits on a hill above the rail road crossing and the sound of a freight train late at night will always give me that feeling. When all is quite, that train will start a vibration that will ever so gently rattle the old windows upstairs in the house.

I have fond memories as a child lying in bed late at night and listening to the rumbling of the train on the tracks. Every time I hear that train, I think about "old times", not only of my youth, but of how it must have been many, many years before.

 

[carter]

I know what you mean by the "chill factor". The old homeplace sits on a hill above the rail road crossing and the sound of a freight train late at night will always give me that feeling. When all is quite, that train will start a vibration that will ever so gently rattle the old windows upstairs in the house.

I have fond memories as a child lying in bed late at night and listening to the rumbling of the train on the tracks. Every time I hear that train, I think about "old times", not only of my youth, but of how it must have been many, many years before.

There's an old song in which one of the lines is "I hear that lonesome whistle blow" or something like that. What is the name of that song? hmmmm.....

 

[Big Man]

There's an old song in which one of the lines is "I hear that lonesome whistle blow" or something like that. What is the name of that song? hmmmm.....

Hank Williams sang that song. "I'm so Lonesome I Could Die" is the title.

 

[Nashoba]

This happens to me often. It's eerie really, I have these moments where I feel as though I've slipped back in time. It happens in flashes really, randomly, especially when I'm places that have remained somewhat unchanged. Even stranger it happens to me at home doing random things like cleaning or making dinner...I wish I could think of a specific time and place where I remember it happening....I'll have to revisit this thread the next time it happens.

 

[Tony in Tarzana]

It happened to me aboard the Queen Mary in 2006, I stepped out of the Verandah Grill onto the deck aft, turned around, looked up and the fog had enshrouded the ship to the extent that one couldn't see the dock or the lights of Long Beach. It really felt like 1936.

 

[Chas]

Hank Williams sang that song. "I'm so Lonesome I Could Die" is the title.

Actually, it's title is (I Hear That) Lonesome Whistle.

Sorry, don't mean to nit-pick. I'm a big admirer of Hank Williams (Senior- Junior's a 4-alarm wanker).

Back to topic...

I used to get that funny feeling that I was in a place where the passage of time seemed to be held back; possibly for my benefit. But such moments don't happen here in Vancouver anymore. The guiding principle of this place seems to be "if it's old, and it can't be made into a restaurant or condo, rip it down".

Sometimes at night, when I can't sleep, I go for a drive, and I put on one of my cd's of radio transcriptions, and I guess it provides some kind of immersive experience, however temporary. Call it a comfort thing, really.

 

[Big Man]

Actually, it's title is (I Hear That) Lonesome Whistle.

Sorry, don't mean to nit-pick. I'm a big admirer of Hank Williams (Senior- Junior's a 4-alarm wanker). ...

"Lonesome Whistle" and "I'm so Lonesome I Could Die" (or "Cry"), both were sung by Hank, Sr. The "Lonesome Whistle" song, I believe, is also credited to Jimmie Davis. Both would be appropriate, but I believe the later is more well known.

 

[Michaelson]

Off the top of my head, I do remember one experience that occured many years ago. I was driving my '50 Plymouth to work on a very cold foggy morning.

I was playing Miller on my cassette player I installed in the car, and was wearing my leather car coat and usual fedora. I was bundled up against the cold you experience in these old cars in winter, as the heaters are dismal at best, and it was a bleak, dreary, and EXTREMELY heavy ice fog that enveloped me on my drive on the two lane road to my place of work.

I saw no traffic until I was halfway to work, and I saw the first set of headlights I had seen on my entire drive heading toward me. As it took shape, it was apparent it was not a new car, nor a truck. It was big, but I couldn't really tell what it was until it was several car lengths away.....and to my surprise I was being approached by a 1940 Buick. The man behind the wheel ALSO had his fedora properly in place, and was as bundled up against the cold as I was!

We waved as we passed, then he was gone as quickly as he approached me, his tail lights disappearing in the fog. There was no sound at all, it all being muffled by the swirling ice fog. Just the Miller tune coming from my dash.

I never saw that car before, or since! I actually had chill bumps, and it wasn't from the freezing temps. It was like a scene from the Twilight Zone!

Regards! Michaelson

 

[Dagwood]

I liked your story Michaelson.

I'll also add another story - I am usually the first person at work. This morning, I was listening to Jimmy Durante. Walking down the hall, the music was softly echoing throughout the entire hallway. Indeed, the music seemed to be coming out of the walls. It felt really peaceful, and almost as if Jimmy were still here and singing just for me.

 

[Twitch]

Any time I'm in my Packard I slip away. I quit seeing a sea of Japanese cars. The sun difuses differently over the sun visor and the ever present spit in the 2-piece windshield reinforces the fact that it's the 50s. My interior is faded and discolored but hasn't been altered since the factory workers installed it in 1950 Detroit. It lends to the fact that it ain't 2008 in there.

 

[Nashoba]

Holy Smokes

Michaelson, I got chills just reading that story!