8th grade. My friend and I had our parents drop us off at the strip mall. Intentions: meet the high school guys with a car.
Best: White Mustang, I would have preferred red.
We drove up to the railroad trestle off Netherland Inn Road. I wasn't even drinking then. But, we walked the tracks until we heard a train coming. We were running. I slipped, fell, and my knee was stuck in the ties. Freaking out. They came back and pulled me loose. Literally, just in time.
Worst: Shredded my jeans (way bf it was cool) and had a nasty abrasion. They stopped the car at a house on the ridge. Lady dressed my wound. She said: I hate living here bc sometimes, when my husband is depressed, he goes up there and lies on the tracks.
Too much information.