Thoughts on the train

I wonder how many times I’ve taken the train to New York and back? I wonder if I could even guess? The need to roll back and forth between the city comes and goes in waves — sometimes I may not go for weeks, other times I may go twice in a week. Ten years ago, I was going so often (and so early) that I decided something had to give, and so I gave up shaving (though not for Lent) and grew a beard, making it just that much easier to grab that 7:05 train.

Now it’s a 6:55, the beard is gone, and there’s a new station. Our hideous little ’70s box of a station has been replaced by a fairly grand structure — probably more grand than was called for, but there was a time when public institutions were expected to do much more than the bare minimum, and it is nice when something at least good, if not great, can be built these days. The previous station was essentially a bus station that happened to serve rail, right down to the nasty seats with coin-operated television sets attached.

However, we gave some things up when they built the new place, including the ability to get in and out in a hurry. It used to be that you could pull up five minutes before the train left and have no trouble making it at all. And there was the pleasure of standing out on the platform on a spring or summer morning, enjoying the fresh air (fresh until the train arrived, of course). And when one got back after a trip, it was a simple thing to slip off the platform and squeeze through the fence to get to the parking lot without having to go through the station.

With the new station, they built a parking garage. Parking garages are expensive (and, in this case, badly built), and so they had to charge for parking. Having to charge for parking means when a train lets out, the lines to pay are long. On a bad day, I sit in the line longer than it will take me to drive home, which I find very annoying.

And so what we’ve gained in grandiosity, we’ve lost in the simple convenience that makes living here so great. It’s not a big deal, just a little annoyance, but still.

It’s always interesting to ride the train and notice people who’ve never taken it before. I always want to point out the sights, tell them what they’re looking at — the bridges, the power plants, West Point, and of course Bannerman’s Island, the ruins of an arms dealer’s “castle” that sits in the Hudson River across from Storm King. That one always opens eyes, and they never know what it is. I never do, of course — that’s just not me. I still intend to do a map of the sights as you ride along the Hudson, one of the most beautiful train rides in America, and post it on the web. One of many uncompleted projects, but one I could probably whip off in a weekend if I just got to it.