Los Angeles: The End of the Line
There is no Trans-American Railroad as such. It is a name I coined for the two-train network connecting the East coast with the West coast, America’s Atlantic seabed with the…
Lunch with the Amish as we Cross New Mexico
Instead of the cafeteria, I signed up for lunch at the dining car on the third day. Chance had it that an Amish couple would share the table with me.…
The Jumping Devils of Glorieta Pass
Of the monotone speech of a U.S. National Park volunteer, in a green shirt that evoked boy scouts’, I only caught a few words. But he was probably in his…
Where Trains and Cars Come To Die
At 7:39 AM on the third day of the trip, we called at Lamar, Colorado. The train clanged past a car wrecking yard. Among the old models I spotted a…
“On the Road”
Third day on the Trans-American Railroad. I ran to the cafeteria in the lower deck of the observation car for a breakfast of straight black coffee and toasted bagel with…
“Next Official Smoke Break: The Paris of the Prairies”
Iowa was just a brief interlude between Illinois and Missouri, where we were now. As the train was arriving at La Plata, the conductor had a message for the smoke…
The Crossing of the Mississippi
On the Southwest Chief to Los Angeles nobody sat next me. When Diane left in Chicago, so did the stories. It is always a blessing to sit alone on a…
The Southwest Chief
The Southwest Chief was a double-decker, with only a small cabin in the lower levels of the cars for short-distance travelers. If not my mood, my muscles were feeling it was…
Chicago: Four Blocks Around Union Station
Travel friendships go the way of the wind, and so did with Diane. Still, she wrote my email address in the back of a novel she was reading. She wanted…
Away from Cincinnati, and the Sun
“Where are we?” Diane was just coming back to her senses after a deep sleep, which she conjured with the poise of a sphynx. I looked it up on my…