When I was a kid, I had a buddy who was absolutely gonzo-nuts about trains! I vividly remember peddling our bikes as fast as we could down to the tracks when we heard a whistle blow so we could stand there and watch and listen as they rumbled by.
I’d love to be able to drive (is that the right word?) a train… sitting up in that big engine watching everything laid out in front of you. Because the tracks go places streets don’t in town, you could see the city in a whole new way. And out in the countryside would be even cooler I’d imagine.
Yeah, I need me a train. And a spaceship. And my own Jet.
I love the sound of a train whistle in the still of the night. It just seems so right somehow. I could always hear one in the distance in the little town where I grew up and I like that there are tracks less than a mile away from where I live now so I can still hear it.
Maybe it’s genetic. My grandfather was an engineer on the L & N line and my mother used to ride along sometimes when she was a little girl. My great grandfather, unfortunately, got caught between cars in the railyard.
I always love the faint sound of a train whistle off in the distance, it’s so haunting and elusive for me. Riding a train has always had a little bit of magic left over from being a kid.