We live in an old-fashioned railroad town, with the road running along the still active tracks. Snuggled against the tracks is the old railroad station, once a graceful white icon of our town, but now just a faded and falling memory of the boom times of Campbellsburg. I love hearing the faint whistle of the lonesome train calling across the fields.
Across the street from the station is our downtown. Campbellsburg's original down town was taken out by a tornado in the '70's and replaced by a brick strip mall containing our local businesses. Our bank is still owned by long-standing members of the community, as is the local grocery and our small-town drug store. Brenda's beauty parlor is where the woman-folk catch up on all the local goings-on. Last is the post office, hanging on in spite of all the recent post-office closings.
The gas station is the hot spot in our town. Called the Minit-Mart, it is situated on a small triangle of land between the highway, the rail road tracks and a side road, it has two pumps. Folks often think of that space beside the pumps as a parking space and make it hard to get gas. The Minit-Mart also sells chicken and pizza, closest thing we have to a fast food joint. It is also the local coffee stop for all the retired gentlemen, farmers and rail-road men from the trains that stop on the side-switch in town. Few women will brave the smoky man-cave more than a few minutes.
