Dans Papers - May 25, 2007 -BOOM!

He's sharp-eyed, smart and has nerves of steel. And he takes no chances. Why, in one photo I saw recently, he was wearing a belt and wide red suspenders, just in case. Yes, an ordinary man.

But put a torpedo in his life? Well, let me tell you what happened.

First, the guy's name. It's Don Fisher. Now you may not know him but when you hear about his adventure and how he handled it, you'll be glad Don Fisher lives on our North Fork. It's always good to have a superhero living nearby.

Don, it seems, was setting up a display at the Railroad Museum of Long Island in Greenport. A display with a nice hometown name: "Many Hands, A Representation of Rail Workers." North Forkers love our railroad - a love affair going way back to the 1800s when veggies were shipped to the big city and the first tourists traveled out east. (No Hampton Jitney then.)

Anyway, here's ordinary-man Don in the museum around 4 p.m. and probably wondering what wife Sue was putting together for dinner. All of a sudden sharp-eyed Don spotted something that made him forget meatloaf or macaroni and cheese.

For Don had come upon, right there in the display cases in the Greenport museum, a half dozen torpedoes (no, not the kind they may have across the Long Island Sound in New London) and they were leaking some frightening-looking stuff. Don knew torpedoes shouldn't leak.

Now, me? I'd run - damning those torpedoes and full speed ahead. Not Don. He knew exactly what he was looking at and the man with nerves of steel took action. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Let's very carefully go back to those torpedoes. It seems railroads used torpedoes for scores of years. Those torpedoes in Greenport dated back to the 1940s.

The torpedoes were small metal containers about three inches square and less than an inch high. They were filled with detonating powder. And they were used as a warning, a crash-avoiding device on the rails. For example, if a train were stalled on the tracks, crew members would place the torpedoes behind and in front of the stalled train - as far away as two miles. Then, when an oncoming train rolled over the torpedoes, there'd be a really loud bang. That big bang would alert the oncoming train's engineer that there was danger ahead and he'd slow or stop the train. Or at least I hope so.

They needed a big bang because engines made so much noise the engineer would never hear anyone yelling, "Please stop. My train is stuck."

So what did Don Fisher, of the North Fork, do with the oozing torpedoes? He picked them up in his fearless hands and carried them to the museum's loading dock. Then he dialed the Southold police. The torpedoes were taken away for disposal at 9 p.m. Now I don't know if Don stood guard over them for five hours. Did he grab some supper at a nearby restaurant? Or did Sue stop by with a meatloaf sandwich and a thermos of coffee? Goodness knows, the guy deserved it.

Now I'm not one to advocate for noise. But so a railroad never has to use a torpedo again or Don Fisher go through this adventure again, I'm suggesting this. It will produce noise rivaling any torpedo without the attendant dangers. (Don said those tiny railroad torpedoes could spew shrapnel 50 feet.) That's a lot of feet.

No, I'm going with my musical torpedo. That should stop a train dead in its tracks. I'll package up a little metal canister with a tape inside and when a train rolls over it the tape will be activated and everyone on the North Fork will hear that BOOM, BOOM, BOOM some call music, you know, just like what you hear when some Friday-night-kids pull up alongside you when you're stopped at a red light. Annoying noise but not lethal.

First, though, I'll run my musical torpedo plan by Don Fisher. It's always good to be endorsed by a North Fork hero.