Clearing the Switch

I caught the rear step of the midday bus, riding the line until the asphalt gave way to the disused rail siding. The ground-throw switch stand by the second spur was locked mid-stroke, its cast-iron counterweight suspended. A wedged granite ballast stone had jammed between the baseplate and the rocker arm. I drove the tapered point of my finishing nail beneath the stone, bracing both boots against the timber tie and throwing my full weight against the shank. The rock fractured and gave way. The weighted arm dropped with a dull, hollow thud, seating the switch point flush against the rail. The siding matches my grid now.