A Moment That Altered My Life: The Train I Was On Crashed – and afterward I Heard a Young Girl Weeping.

T it dawned on me the end was near arrived during my 20s, as my adult life was unfolding. My best friend, Helen, and I were on our way to Blackburn to reunite with a former classmate who had made a new home there for work. Overjoyed at the reunion, and reveling in the anticipation of the social gathering to come, we chatted nonstop as we traveled by train from York.

We stashed our bags – packed with necessities such as our favorite wines and my new pair of black clogs – in the storage compartment and settled down in a snug pair of seats. About 50 minutes into our journey, I was faintly cognizant of a bang. Then came another, which could not be dismissed. A woman screamed as our carriage was lifted off the tracks in what felt like slow motion. In an instant, Helen and I were somehow on our feet in the middle of the aisle, clinging to one another. Head down, eyelids tightly closed, I waited for the carriage to overturn and ignite, as I’d seen in films. I remember thinking our relatives and companions getting the news. Subsequently, there was the child sobbing.

“Everything is okay,” I said softly, speaking with a rasp. “The worst has passed,” I stated, primarily to calm my own nerves.

She appeared to be seven or eight, and appeared to be completely on her own. Her crying shook me out of my trance; this was my opportunity to be useful. I made my way to where she was standing and gave her a reassuring hug. “Don't turn around,” Helen called out, but it was already too late. I saw a man with blood all over his face. An enormous piece of metal had crashed through the window behind us. Later, we learned a uncontrolled excavator had rolled down the hill and collided with the train, leading to the derailment.

Our compartment was trapped with its front end in the air. Then came the noise of sirens and a man nearby requested that I to give the girl to him so he could assist her exit through the opening, as kids were being rescued to waiting firefighters. A few minutes later, Helen and I were also climbing out of the train window and descending via a ladder onto the railway line.

Back on terra firma – beside a freight warehouse in Pudsey – my body started to shake uncontrollably. My eyes scanned for the little girl and observed her being embraced by her mother, we later learned had been in the lavatory when the crash occurred. A firefighter kindly retrieved my clogs. A fellow passenger plonked down on Helen’s case, resulting in it breaking open – though luckily our wine was unharmed. After a half-hour wait, we made our way in a complimentary taxi to Blackburn, alongside an adolescent and the female passenger who had caused the luggage to burst. Our friend was waiting, visibly shaken. She had heard there had been a derailment and a staff member had led her away and made her a cup of tea while she anticipated updates.

Displaying the fearlessness of young adulthood, we set the accident aside and continued with our evening plans, which included a memorable turn by Blackburn drag queen Clitheroe Kate. Not a single life was lost in the incident, despite the fact that several people were transported to the hospital. Helen and I sustained only bruises and soreness and discomfort from the force of the sudden jolt in the carriage. The locomotive was decelerating to enter Leeds station, which had been the crucial element in averting grave physical damage. Given that nobody was badly hurt made it easier not to dwell on the “what ifs” but the child was the one who made a permanent impression. Taking care of her and calming her down shifted my focus outward and demonstrated the importance of focusing on others in a crisis. In the decades since, I have repeatedly asked myself if she had any memory of the event, and how significant it had been for her.

Helen and I have now been friends for more than three decades and Pudsey has become shorthand for our ability to cope any situation, provided we have each other. Being with her that day gave me the impression I was insulated from the full horror of the event. The accident additionally altered my perspective on other types of crises, giving me perspective – and serving as a reminder that, no matter how dire circumstances appear, it remains a gift to get older.