There's No Caboose
I have a passion for train travel, which until recently my family allowed me to indulge. Once Carly and I almost missed a train from New York City to Toronto. We flew to New York, spent just one day, and woke in the morning to the panicked voice of my friend Dennine telling us she had accidentally set the alarm for six p.m. We had fifteen minutes to catch our train. Dennine ran around the apartment stuffing things in our bags while Carly and I threw on our clothes. We dashed down to the street and flagged a cab. The cab driver flew across town, pounding the horn as he ran red light after red light.
We managed to make it to Penn Station alive, with four minutes to spare. Then, within seconds of boarding the train, we were rolling along the Hudson River. The river with its deep green waters soothed and awoke my senses, which had been electrified and shocked dull by the speed of our first two days of travel.
Day passed into night, and still we were on the train. Customs at the border took an inordinately long time, and we pulled into Toronto an hour behind schedule. Still, I’ll take the delays of the train over the geographical jolt of the plane, the disturbing lurch into the future, when I can afford the time. I prefer the distillation of emotion, and even boredom, that slow travel affords the soul.
Victoria Williams wrote a song about the train and its glory days.
"When I was a little kid
I had to sit like most kids did
Counting as the train cars passed
Waiting’ til the very last,
See the old man in his overalls
And his hair all grey
Smiling in the sun.
Nowadays it aint no use,
There’s no caboose."
Once, after celebrating the completion of final exams at University of Oregon, my friends and I piled in a Volkswagon Beetle and drove to the train station. There must have been ten people in that Bug. They stood on the platform and waved as the train set off for points south: Cottage Grove... Medford... Redding... and ultimately my stop in Oakland. Being young, I slept comfortably in the coach seats and ate from the snack car. I loved the entry cars and would stand at the open windows as the train crossed the landscape. That is one of Victoria Williams’ laments: "Windows now sealed up tight, Man can’t breathe and he’s got the right."
Blue does not share my love of trains. Most of the time they are slow, and the rocking gives him vertigo. My theory is that he is too relaxed to need them. I, on the other hand, need the slowing that train travel provides. But even my love of trains has been seriously compromised by Amtrak's recent woes.
Amtrak, which relies heavily on government subsidies, is now losing half a billion dollars a year. U.S. trains outside the Northeast corridor, furthermore, run at an average of fifty miles per hour. On our last Coast Starlight excursion from Tacoma to San Jose, the speed seldom came close to fifty, and when it did I feared for my life as the train flew over tracks in a state of disrepair.
"And what about the tracks they laid
Long ago, they all decayed.
Job for every man,
New tracks across the land.
I feel the need to say a bit more,
Instead of building up for war
Gotta few more healthy chores
For the fellas dressed in gray."
Of course Victoria Williams has a point. Whereas highways and airlines in our country continue to be subsidized without significant challenge, every Republican administration since Ronald Reagan has tried to stop federal funding for Amtrak. Amtrak is expensive; its equipment must be ordered and manufactured, and the company’s labor force is reputably bloated. But Amtrak has enjoyed a long history of support in Congress. Still, it is the short routes connecting major cities that have the most potential to be money makers, not the long distance routes with the dining, sleeping, and bar cars that I have come to appreciate most.
Blue and I took our first excursion together on the Coast Starlight when Carly and Eliot were little. By booking a year in advance, we paid five hundred dollars for a family-size sleeping room. Included in the ticket were three meals in the dining car, plus other amenities. The bathroom and shower were down the hall from our room. We went to the late afternoon wine tasting, and watched the sun set over the Cascade Mountains.
While I tasted wines from the Willamette Valley in the bar car, Carly watched Shrek in the movie car. She watched it three times that trip. The four of us slept well and ate delicious meals in the dining car. We did wait hours for the train to depart. Although freight trains are required by law to give priority to passenger trains, freights normally run when they have accumulated too many cars to pull over at the sidings. As a result, the shorter passenger trains pull over while the freight trains pass.
Today Amtrak operates over 200 commuter trains in California, including the popular Surfline between LA and San Diego, and construction may soon begin on a high-speed train connecting the Bay Area to the Central Valley. At present California spends 63 million dollars a year, five times as much as any other state, to operate its intercity and commuter lines. But it relies on federal funds for the longer routes, and there is talk in Washington of turning these routes over to private companies in the tourist industry.
For now the Coast Starlight suffers, and train lovers suffer along with it. On our most recent family excursion the train departed eight hours behind schedule and took twenty-eight hours instead of twenty-four. The price of the ticket had gone up and the quality of the experience had plumetted. The VCR in the movie car was broken, and there was no air-conditioning in the bar car. Temperatures in my favorite car reached into the nineties in the afternoon, and the wine tasting, which miraculously was still in effect, was a sleepy affair. Gone were the gourmet meals in the dining car; the food was only a notch above airline food.
"They used to have the finest chef,
dining car a nice place to rest."
Amtrak continues at present to receive substantial federal funding. But I imagine it will take private reform to revitalize a long-distance service that for many of us is a labor of love. I look forward to the day when I can once again board an overnight train in the Pacific Northwest, sleep and eat like a queen, and watch the sun set over the Cascade Mountains with a glass of Willamette Valley wine in my hand. I might even convince Blue and the kids to come with me.
"Through fields they ramble,
Over mountains they climb,
Why they could go through every town
Yours and mine."
We managed to make it to Penn Station alive, with four minutes to spare. Then, within seconds of boarding the train, we were rolling along the Hudson River. The river with its deep green waters soothed and awoke my senses, which had been electrified and shocked dull by the speed of our first two days of travel.
Day passed into night, and still we were on the train. Customs at the border took an inordinately long time, and we pulled into Toronto an hour behind schedule. Still, I’ll take the delays of the train over the geographical jolt of the plane, the disturbing lurch into the future, when I can afford the time. I prefer the distillation of emotion, and even boredom, that slow travel affords the soul.
Victoria Williams wrote a song about the train and its glory days.
"When I was a little kid
I had to sit like most kids did
Counting as the train cars passed
Waiting’ til the very last,
See the old man in his overalls
And his hair all grey
Smiling in the sun.
Nowadays it aint no use,
There’s no caboose."
Once, after celebrating the completion of final exams at University of Oregon, my friends and I piled in a Volkswagon Beetle and drove to the train station. There must have been ten people in that Bug. They stood on the platform and waved as the train set off for points south: Cottage Grove... Medford... Redding... and ultimately my stop in Oakland. Being young, I slept comfortably in the coach seats and ate from the snack car. I loved the entry cars and would stand at the open windows as the train crossed the landscape. That is one of Victoria Williams’ laments: "Windows now sealed up tight, Man can’t breathe and he’s got the right."
Blue does not share my love of trains. Most of the time they are slow, and the rocking gives him vertigo. My theory is that he is too relaxed to need them. I, on the other hand, need the slowing that train travel provides. But even my love of trains has been seriously compromised by Amtrak's recent woes.
Amtrak, which relies heavily on government subsidies, is now losing half a billion dollars a year. U.S. trains outside the Northeast corridor, furthermore, run at an average of fifty miles per hour. On our last Coast Starlight excursion from Tacoma to San Jose, the speed seldom came close to fifty, and when it did I feared for my life as the train flew over tracks in a state of disrepair.
"And what about the tracks they laid
Long ago, they all decayed.
Job for every man,
New tracks across the land.
I feel the need to say a bit more,
Instead of building up for war
Gotta few more healthy chores
For the fellas dressed in gray."
Of course Victoria Williams has a point. Whereas highways and airlines in our country continue to be subsidized without significant challenge, every Republican administration since Ronald Reagan has tried to stop federal funding for Amtrak. Amtrak is expensive; its equipment must be ordered and manufactured, and the company’s labor force is reputably bloated. But Amtrak has enjoyed a long history of support in Congress. Still, it is the short routes connecting major cities that have the most potential to be money makers, not the long distance routes with the dining, sleeping, and bar cars that I have come to appreciate most.
Blue and I took our first excursion together on the Coast Starlight when Carly and Eliot were little. By booking a year in advance, we paid five hundred dollars for a family-size sleeping room. Included in the ticket were three meals in the dining car, plus other amenities. The bathroom and shower were down the hall from our room. We went to the late afternoon wine tasting, and watched the sun set over the Cascade Mountains.
While I tasted wines from the Willamette Valley in the bar car, Carly watched Shrek in the movie car. She watched it three times that trip. The four of us slept well and ate delicious meals in the dining car. We did wait hours for the train to depart. Although freight trains are required by law to give priority to passenger trains, freights normally run when they have accumulated too many cars to pull over at the sidings. As a result, the shorter passenger trains pull over while the freight trains pass.
Today Amtrak operates over 200 commuter trains in California, including the popular Surfline between LA and San Diego, and construction may soon begin on a high-speed train connecting the Bay Area to the Central Valley. At present California spends 63 million dollars a year, five times as much as any other state, to operate its intercity and commuter lines. But it relies on federal funds for the longer routes, and there is talk in Washington of turning these routes over to private companies in the tourist industry.
For now the Coast Starlight suffers, and train lovers suffer along with it. On our most recent family excursion the train departed eight hours behind schedule and took twenty-eight hours instead of twenty-four. The price of the ticket had gone up and the quality of the experience had plumetted. The VCR in the movie car was broken, and there was no air-conditioning in the bar car. Temperatures in my favorite car reached into the nineties in the afternoon, and the wine tasting, which miraculously was still in effect, was a sleepy affair. Gone were the gourmet meals in the dining car; the food was only a notch above airline food.
"They used to have the finest chef,
dining car a nice place to rest."
Amtrak continues at present to receive substantial federal funding. But I imagine it will take private reform to revitalize a long-distance service that for many of us is a labor of love. I look forward to the day when I can once again board an overnight train in the Pacific Northwest, sleep and eat like a queen, and watch the sun set over the Cascade Mountains with a glass of Willamette Valley wine in my hand. I might even convince Blue and the kids to come with me.
"Through fields they ramble,
Over mountains they climb,
Why they could go through every town
Yours and mine."
posted by Victoria Tatum at 4:38 PM
3 comments
