Twentieth Century

“The railroad-crossing gates at Lyell and Glide are down with no train in sight.”
(This may be incorrect — that railroad may no longer exist — all I heard was “railroad-crossing gates at .... are down with no train in sight.”)
Thankfully, over 16 & 1/2 years of driving bus, I never encountered such a situation. It would have been a huge hairball.
Our Union, quite naturally, advised it would be absolutely crazy to drive around railroad-crossing gates, because the Company, even though it might have ordered you to disregard the gates, would fire you if disaster occurred.
To the passengers, not disregarding the gates was being a jerk. What was happening was that drivers were forced to factor in management being jerks. —Unfortunately, I was once a passenger myself.
I remember the guy who eventually became president of the bus-union always running 15-20 minutes late on a trip.
He was following all the ridiculous, time-consuming company procedures.
The guy who eventually became union business-agent used to cripple his bus for loose mirrors.
The Company, in its infinite wisdom, would only have one service-truck on the road, so tightening a mirror might take a half-hour.
The road-mechanics thought tightening a mirror was an affront, but if you had an accident due to that loose mirror, you were fired: “Why didn’t you have that mirror tightened?”
The Lyell-Glide railroad-crossing wasn’t that serious. All it crossed was the Falls Road; an old New York Central branch from Rochester to Niagara Falls.
It bypassed the Water-Level, though parallel, and its destination was Niagara Falls, not Buffalo.
It was abandoned years ago, although a short stub might still exist to service factories.
Some railroad-crossings you approached with great respect.
The Water-Level crossed the main drag in Fairport, as did the old West-Shore, now the Rochester-Bypass.
Both railroads were fairly active, especially the Water-Level.
The Rochester-Bypass also crossed a bus-route on the west side of town.
One dark morning I started across it (the gates weren’t down yet), and a train was coming. I could see its ditch-lights flashing side-to-side.
I put the hammer down, I still had 35 feet of bus behind me with a single passenger in the rear.
The gates never started down, but I had decided years earlier that if they ever did, I was just smacking them aside.
When I started bus-driving in 1977 it was still the law to come to a stop with the four-ways on, and open the door before crossing railroad-tracks.
One bus-route navigated city back-streets between old factory buildings. It went up a street between two factories that shared an old railroad-siding long abandoned; no longer even connected to a railroad.
But the rails were still in the pavement (four feet 8&1/2-inches apart), with a roll-up door big enough to clear a boxcar in each factory.
Passengers were on my bus as I dutifully pulled to a stop for the old siding, and then proceeded across it after opening my door.
“Whadja stop there for? That railroad has been out-of-service for years.”
“Well, what if the Twentieth Century is bombing down the track?” I said.

Does anyone know what the Twentieth Century is?

Fairport is a suburb east of Rochester. It’s on the Erie Canal.