South by rail

Feel the wheels rumblin' 'neath the floor.
And the sons of pullman porters
And the sons of engineers
Ride their father's magic carpets made of steel.¹


Some of my earliest hazy memories are of riding on overnight trains from Portland down the Willamette Valley, to visit my great grandparents on a farm. And slightly later, I have a much clearer recollection of traveling by sleeper with my mother and brother to Sacramento, where an aunt picked us up and drove us up to Donner Lake, near Lake Tahoe.

These early experiences -- memories dimmed by the swirling fogs of very early childhood -- may have exerted a permanent impact on my brain's later development, because I can't remember a time during my life that I haven't loved train travel. As a 14-year-old, I took the Empire Builder back to Chicago -- three days and two nights all by myself, sitting and sleeping in a coach seat -- to visit a former school friend. During college, I made three round trips a year between my home in Washington and school in California. Overseas for my university's "study abroad" program, I traveled all over Europe during school breaks -- always by train.

Nowadays, it's much faster, simpler, and usually cheaper to fly than it is to ride by train. Nevertheless, tomorrow at 9:45 a.m., I'll find myself boarding Amtrak's Coast Starlight, bound for Southern California, where I'll join family for Christmas. I'll arrive at Burbank -- the last stop before Los Angeles -- at 8:15 p.m. Thursday night. No longer a starving, penniless student -- carefully avoiding the expense of European hotels by sitting up overnight in a second class compartment -- I now allow myself the luxury of splurging on a roomette in a sleeping car.

But coach or sleeper, the basic attractions are the same. For 35 hours, I'll be isolated from the "real" world. No chores to do. Nothing expected of me. I can read in comfort for uninterrupted hours, or stare blankly out the window, hypnotized by the blur of scenery rushing past. If I feel restless, I can walk to one of the lounge cars, have a beer, and meet or observe other travelers. If I chose -- which I don't -- I could spend much of the trip staring at screens in a darkened room devoted to arcade games. Some long distance trains -- I'm not sure about the Coast Starlight -- even show movies in a small theater.

The sweet tedium of the day is broken regularly by meals in the diner -- meals that, for sleeping car passengers, are included in the fare. These meals, for the first few years after Amtrak took over from Southern Pacific, were barely edible at best, but they are now surprisingly good. Perhaps not the same haute cuisine that luxury trains like the AT&SF's Super Chief are said to have offered before World War II, during the glory days of train travel, but they're a notch above those offered by casual chain restaurants.

The seats of the roomette convert to a bed with linen, blankets and pillows at night. I find them extremely comfortable, and the rocking and swaying of the railway car conducive to a very relaxing sleep. Of course, I've always slept happily sitting up in coach, as well, so maybe you shouldn't rely on my recommendation!

I've found that mankind can be divided into two groups: those who love train travel, and those who wonder why anyone would waste 35 hours of his life to travel a distance he could reach in a little over two hours by plane. It's these little differences between people that make life interesting, right? Anyway, I'm pleased to fall into the first category.

"Coast Starlight, now boarding on Track Three, bound for Tacoma, Olympia, Centralia, Kelso-Longview, Vancouver, Portland, .... and Los Angeles. All Aboard!"

See you folks after Christmas!
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¹Steve Goodman, "City of New Orleans."