ridin’ the rails

As a kid I had a fascination with trains, but then who didn’t? I’m writing this as I ride south on the Amtrak Coast Starlight through California’s Central Valley. We’re flying by apricot orchards, lettuce fields, almond trees, and all kinds of other crops. There are downsides to train travel: it takes a long time, the food is exorbitantly expensive, kids on the train can be incredibly annoying. But what you can’t beat is the view. In some ways it’s even better than a road trip because train tracks go places cars don’t. As we wound our way through the Sierras last night some of the views literally took my breath away. I can’t wait until we get out to the coast this afternoon. I love the feeling of history I get when I ride the train. They have all sorts of old western connotations for me (I half expect us to get held-up by bandits!). Having read enough cowboy novels to know just how important the train was to early westward expansion, I wonder about the train routes. How did one little town get the train station that turned it into the county seat and local hub of industry, while another town got passed over and remains mostly a Western ghost town? Of course these decisions were not usually arbitrary, but it’s easy to get fatalistic about it. Could the train have made a difference for some of those little hamlets? We’ll never know. (For those who are interested, the train just went in between two buildings of the Blue Diamond Almond factory in Sacramento!) The one thing I wish the train still had is a real caboose with an open balcony. How fun would it be to stand outside and watch the country go by with all the smells and sounds that go along with the sights? (Except, maybe, in dairy country) Of course all this Americana might come flooding back in a few months when I’m stuck in Hungary longing for some good old American scenery. Maybe Hungarian trains will have open cabooses.