Today is cloudy and warm. It is 67°. It is a quiet day. The air is still, thickened by the dampness and the clouds. It is the sort of day which encourages laziness. The dogs are napping on the afghan on the couch. I’m thinking they’ll have to make room for me later.

My mother never learned to drive until she was in her late 30’s. I remember when I was a kid we took busses and trains to visit relatives. We’d take a bus from uptown to Sullivan Square where the bus station was downstairs, and the subway station was upstairs. There was a kiosk selling papers, magazines, drinks and candy on the bus level. I loved riding the subway. We waited on the platform for the train. My mother kept an eye on us so we didn’t get too close to the edge. I could hear the train coming. There was a breeze from the few cars which passed me before the train stopped. I’d kneel on the seat and look out the window. In the tunnels, I was still glued to the window looking through the darkness. I loved the clicking sound of the train on the tracks. We never got separated, but if we did, the plan was always to go to the next station and wait.

My love of trains continues. When I travel, I often take trains. I rode the Metro in Paris, the Underground in London and the Moscow Metro in Russia. The most beautiful stations were part of the Moscow Metro. They were elegant architectural works of art. I remember an escalator down to a station that was so long you couldn’t see the bottom. In those days, a woman sat at the end of every escalator. I guess she was watching for any problems.

I’d take night trains so I wouldn’t need a hotel or a hostel. Sometimes I’d pay extra for a sleeping compartment while other times I’d sleep in a chair as best as I could. I slept in a couchette from Helsinki to Rovaniemi. There were two bunks on each side of the car. I slept the night away. I was in a compartment from Copenhagen to Hook of Holland. In Ghana I often took the train from Accra to Kumasi. I went first class. I always felt like a character in an Agatha Christie mystery, maybe Miss Marple. The first class compartments had soft chairs and sliding doors. I rode an overnight train once from Kumasi. I went first class and had my own compartment. It had a sink. I was asleep when the train derailed. It was a rude awakening.

It is time for me to car shop.

This entry was posted on May 16, 2025 at 12:17 pm and is filed under Musings. You can subscribe via RSS 2.0 feed to this post's comments. Both comments and pings are currently closed.