easily. Ed looked at Charlotte and thought maybe he could ask her. She had friends.
Charlotte put the car in gear and slowly inched forward. The fumes coming from her father's breath filled the front seat and turned her stomach. It was a bitter night with empty streets that snapped in the cold air. She had only two intersections to get through, the tracks to cross, and a left turn onto Olive. She pulled out of the lot and stopped on the amber lights.
Ed turned from his daughter and stared out the window. He liked the days and nights to start and end slowly with a quiet drive on streets that he knew as well as the hallways in his home. The bells and red lights from the train tracks could be seen from down the road. Charlotte approached slowly and gripped the wheel tightly as she tried to remember from her Young Drivers class how far back from the line she should stop.
Her father motioned with his hand. "You move up to the line, stop on the line."
Many tracks weaved throughout Oshawa, from the north plant to the south plant. A city in motion, the welcome sign read. Yet there was no longer any logical reason for the crossings and cuttings of the tracks on the streets, through major intersections, across backyards, over the ravine and behind the shops, not decades after their construction.
The train was a long one. Charlotte's foot hovered on the brake, and in the rearview mirror she could see her sister and Robert turn onto the street.
Ed tapped on the dash and motioned to the cleared tracks. "You can go now."
The lights were still flashing, but the tail end of the last car had passed. Charlotte moved her foot to the gas pedal and they jerked over the tracks. It was a swift motion, faster than she expected, and in her surprise at the sudden jolt she missed the immediate stop sign after the train crossing. There was no logical reason to the crossings and cuttings.
They sailed through the stop sign. It was a bitter night. The streetlights shone orange on the brick row houses with porches kept as clean as the Ukrainian women could keep them in all the dirty, salty snow and passing traffic. Ed and Charlotte knew these streets. They jolted into the intersection trafficked by GM cars. That night a large blue GM truck barrelled through the Ritson and Olive
