What is it about trains? I think I know.
“Tickets, tickets please,” the mellifluous voice of the ticket agent wafted down the carpeted aisle and over the richly upholstered seats.
Well, not quite carpets and rich upholstery, this was Amtrak, not the Orient Express.
But it was, nevertheless, unmistakably, and unequivocally a train. And it was leaving the Richmond, Virginia railroad station. And I was on it, bound for Providence, Rhode Island.
I must confess at this point to prejudicially judging trains as an antiquated mode of transportation, it now being over two-hundred years approximately since their debut.
But, so are horses and bicycles and they can both be enjoyable to ride, in fact more enjoyable, even much more enjoyable God only knows, than I-85 through Atlanta; en route to take a flight from Atlanta.
So, it was I took my seat, patiently awaiting the twelve-hour sojourn and feeling a bit like a time traveler. A time traveler with wi-fi on his cell phone chargeable in his seat outlet. Cue Arlo Guthrie’s “City of New Orleans.” Cue Jack London-esque hale and hearty romantic visions of the free-spirited hobo ridin’ the rails life.
Then, somewhere around Quantico, Virginia there was a delay, triggering mild panic, despite adequate bathrooms and food. I was firmly at the mercy of Amtrak. Wait, is that Butch and Sundance out there? Did they stop the train to rob it?
Problem, whatever it was, solved, we were on our way north again before any further ado.
Washington DC, Baltimore, this mode of transportation was quickly proving itself much different than the much more familiar method I’d employed hundreds of times, driving up I-95.
It was, by stark contrast, relaxing! And here the train appeal secret began to kick in.
A train is unlike, say, an interstate bus; a vehicle still quite vulnerable to the highway’s vicissitudes of tractor trailers, drunk drivers, traffic jams and the like. It is also, quite obviously, different from the airplane. No train to my knowledge has ever experienced forty-five minutes of continuous turbulence.
The train has a track!
Yes, the track could be blocked, but by and large, the track is usually clear, and that means, literally and figuratively, the train passenger is on track.
We passed Joe Frazier’s gym in Philadelphia, a sight, among others, that would never been viewable from a car window on the highway. We pulled into and stopped at the Grand Central terminal, New York city. Not a trace of the usual apprehension that always accompanies driving into Manhattan, or even around Manhattan on the George Washington Bridge.
The train did all the work, effortlessly. All I had to do was sit there.
So, what is the secret of the train appeal? It has the ability to resemble a spiritual experience. By that I mean, living in, surrounded by an uncertain, sometimes hostile world, being on track, is akin to the comfort spoken of in 12-step, among other places. That being when you place your will and your life in the care of a power greater than yourself.
That takes trust, and the only other mode of transportation I think that can be equally trusted is walking. And even then, you have to watch where you’re going even if you don’t have any destination in mind.
But a passenger on a train, destination decided, ticket bought, can relax. The world goes by, but he or she is on track.