Trained

Every now and again these days, I have cause to ride an inter-city train. Rather few people can say that, it seems to me. I certainly did not when I was younger. We never rode the train, and then they discontinued service in Phoenix. Only when I came out here to Los Angeles did that change. I've ridden Amtrak and Metrolink trains a few times. I can say that it's an interesting experience, and one worthy of a few words at least.

To me there remains some romance in the idea of riding trains. There is no shortage of iconic moments from films and literature that revolve around the train. It's true that some of them involve hideous crimes, and yet those add to the appeal rather than detracting from it. I do like to think of traveling from one place to another in the same manner as Twain or Arthur Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes. My powerful imagination easily transports me to their world, but it does take a powerful imagination.

I don't know that Italian fascism gets the trains running on time, but I'm certain enough at this point that American democratic republicanism does not get the job done every time. If Amtrak's numbers are to be believed, then slightly more than 80% of trains depart on time. Thinking very hard about it, I can find only that and the absence of a fully comprehensive national system to complain about. The stations are pretty and the conductors resplendent in their uniforms when they are not surly.

Oh, but there is one thing. I don't pretend to have an answer, but it's a problem anyway. I'd sure like to see all the seats face in the proper direction. We all want that, I'm sure, and I have no practical answer. It wouldn't do to have even more trains late in an effort to turn them around. Perhaps we just need a campaign to get more people to like facing backwards. Maybe it could start with some high powered celebrity endorsements. That always helps things.