A train approached the crossing this morning, lumbering along with no big deadline in mind from what I could tell. As I sat watching the train crossing arm drop down I moved closer, turning right so I had a front row seat. I figured with nowhere to go I might as well revisit my childhood game of watching the train go by and counting the cars. With only one engine I figured it would be a short one so instead I just sat back and watched.
Graffiti formed a nice mid band around most of the otherwise drab colors, with the exception of a couple of yellow cars that stood on their own. I don’t remember that much artwork on trains when I was younger. Instead of counting I began watching for doors slightly ajar with a traveler looking out and admiring new scenery. The storage cars were pods that had been set down on flatbed cars. Technology can take away the romance of the old ways, in its efficiency. A hobo didn’t stand a chance on this train, with no doors to slip into at the rail yard and hide away.
I miss seeing the red caboose bringing up the rear. As a kid I remember leaning forward from my place in the back seat of the car and waving through the windshield. Sometimes the conductor would wave back with a big smile on his face, way back in a bygone era.
Reminded me of warm smiles from a desk clerk at the local mom and pop. Creaking wood floors and scents that just seemed right in such places. Before Amazon started selling and shipping to our door for much less.
Turned out to be a short train compared to some I have seen, but it brought back lots of memories.