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T I knew the end was near occurred in my 20s, as my adult life was unfolding. My dearest friend, Helen, and I were traveling to Blackburn to visit a friend from college who had recently moved there for work. Overjoyed at the reunion, and basking in the prospect of the social gathering to come, we chatted nonstop as we traveled by train from York.

We stashed our bags – full of essentials such as our favorite wines and the clogs I had just bought – on the overhead rack and got seated in a comfortable double seat. About 50 minutes into our journey, I was faintly cognizant of a bang. Another one sounded, which could not be dismissed. A female passenger shrieked as our carriage was lifted off the tracks in what felt like slow motion. In an instant, Helen and I were standing up in the middle of the aisle, holding each other tight. Looking down, eyelids tightly closed, I expected the carriage to flip and explode, as I’d seen in films. I recall pondering our families and friends getting the news. Then I heard the young girl weeping.

“It's going to be fine,” I whispered, my voice sounding croaky. “It’s all over,” I stated, mostly for my own benefit.

She was about seven or eight years old, and appeared to be completely on her own. Her sobbing snapped me back to reality; now I could do something meaningful. I went to where she was standing and gave her a reassuring hug. “Don’t look round,” Helen yelled, the warning came after the fact. I glimpsed a man with his face covered in blood. A large metallic item had penetrated the window behind us. Subsequently, we learned a driverless construction vehicle had tumbled down the embankment and smashed into our carriage, causing us to derail.

Our car was lodged with its nose pointing upward. Next was the sound of sirens and another traveler requested that I to hand the child over so he could pass her through the window, while young passengers were extracted to waiting firefighters. Shortly after, Helen and I were similarly exiting of the train window and scaling a ladder down down to the rails.

Standing on firm land again – adjacent to a storage building in Pudsey – uncontrollable shivers took over. My eyes scanned for the little girl and watched her mother gather her up, as it transpired had been in the lavatory when the crash occurred. A rescuer graciously recovered my clogs. Another traveler sat down heavily on Helen’s case, making it split apart – however, fortunately our wine stayed unbroken. Once we had waited for thirty minutes, we made our way in a complimentary taxi to Blackburn, accompanied by a young man and the lady who had broken Helen’s case. Our university friend greeted us, pale with worry. She was aware there had been a derailment and a guard had taken her into his office and offered her a hot drink while she anticipated updates.

Bolstered by youthful resilience, we pushed the derailment from our minds and proceeded with the social outing, which included a memorable turn by Blackburn drag queen Clitheroe Kate. There were no fatalities in the incident, although several people were taken to hospital. Helen and I got away with bruises and general soreness from the force of the sudden jolt in the carriage. Our speed had been decreasing to come into Leeds station, which had been the primary reason in averting grave physical damage. Given that nobody was badly hurt allowed us not to dwell on the “what ifs” but that young girl who changed my outlook profoundly. Looking after her and reassuring her helped take my mind off myself and taught me the worth of looking outwards in a crisis. In the decades since, I have frequently pondered if she had any memory of the event, and how significant it had been for her.

Helen and I have remained friends for more than three decades and That location's name now symbolizes for our capacity to handle any situation, as long as we're side by side. Her presence that fateful day made it feel as if I was insulated from the worst of the situation. The crash also changed my method of handling various difficult situations, giving me perspective – and reinforcing the idea that, no matter how dire circumstances appear, it is always a privilege to grow older.