The Romance of the Rails

By George Medovoy, Editor

I remember it as if it was yesterday - even though it was 20 years ago.

The "Spirit of California" was a new overnight service connecting
Northern and Southern California, and my young daughters and I were going to try it out in style, complete with a comfy sleeper.
To me, riding the rails has always been filled with romance.
To be sure, there are more practical reasons to take the train, including availability of stops and comfort.

But as Art Garfunkel once said in song: "It's not the sun you're tryin' to find, it' somethin' else is on your mind. You need a little space in time to break away."

At 10:30 p.m. a dozen or so passengers of all ages started to gather on the landing. Soon one of my daughters heard the train coming down the tracks.

What Was I Doing Here?

What was I doing here -- taking the munchkins on a train ride, or reliving my own childhood train ride across the American landscape years earlier?

Suddenly, there it was - THE TRAIN.

The only thing missing was the brass band as the big red, white and silver locomotive drew to a stop.

In no more than five minutes, we were on board, pulling away ever so gently.

As I see it, a ride on the train is an event par excellence. With the possible exception of an ocean voyage, this supremely civilized mode of travel means comfort, a slower pace, and of course, if you're an insufferable romantic like me, a time for some serious dreaming.

The munchkins and I opted for a bedroom in the sleeping car. As I recall, Amtrak had made ingenious use of every nook and cranny, as the munchkins soon found out.

"Just Like the Frigerator"

"Just like the 'frigerator'," said one of them, opening up the narrow closet door as we all saw the light go on inside.

The other one discovered the disappearing bathroom sink - and the fun was on, in on-and-off fashion, for the rest of the trip.

Pull down on the sink device, and you had a metal washbasin complete with faucets. Push up on it, and it disappeared into the wall.

Riding the train at night was quite an experience. If you've been told that you can't see anything outside the windows at night, don't believe it. Night travel on Amtrak revealed a slice of the land that was almost eerie: in the heavily populated areas, which lasted until we left San Jose, the ride took us past the backyards and neon-accented alleys of urban, sleeping America.

Later on, making or way into rural California, things turned visually very quiet and subdued. A half-hour into our ride, I heard it: "We're hungry!" So it was off to the Amcafe, the train's snack bar with fountain-style tables and booths.

For the munchkins, crossing over from one car to the next was something of a fright -a bit like crossing over the abyss itself.
We made it, though, and soon settled down for Cracker Jacks for them and a cup of coffee for dad.

(The Amtrak crosses a river as a boat slowly makes it way in the water)

On the northbound run back to Davis, a TV crew from San Diego was on board filming the ride and getting passenger opinions.
They tried to interview the munchkins - but all my daughters could do was laugh!

When we caught up with the newsies again, they were having dinner, but they seemed to prefer their own food, feasting on a giant quiche and steamed artichokes.

More Giggling from the Munchkins

More giggling from the munchkins.

We met a number of other passengers, and I remember these recurring comments: "It's a fun way to travel," "This is my first ride," and "I wanted to see what it would be like."

Others, like an Australian tourist, said she liked the freedom to walk around more than on a plane or the bus.

We also met a woman traveling with her three small children from Wisconsin to California who told us that her husband had died and they needed to get away for a while.

Soon it was time for us to turn in, so we bid good night to the Amcafe and headed for our sleeper.

There was more fun with the disappearing sink act and a little game about how many objects you could see through the darkened window. But as soon as the munchkins put their heads on the pillows, they were out like a light, the steady sway of the train working wonders.

Up Late to Savor the Choo-Choo Ride

Papa stayed up a bit to savor every last detail of the choo-choo ride before turning out his light. There is nothing in the world to compare with it, snuggled up in your bed, listening to the reassuring sounds of the whistle.

I thought the ride south was better scenically than the northern, return run. Somewhere between San Luis Obispo and Santa Barbara, the train edged out to the ocean at daybreak.

With the first hints of morning light over the water, the view seemed perfectly breathtaking.

Arrival at Union Station in Los Angeles brought back memories of the day, now almost 50 years ago, when my family and I arrived in Southern California from Canada.

In those days, the depot was filled to capacity. Nowadays, one's arrival is less tumultuous: one walks down a long tunnel, only to re-emerge inside a cavernous hulk, which once greeted multitudes.

I remember porter Elijah Shoemaker's words, which now sound so ironic in the face of Amtrak cutbacks: "We're gong to make it," he told me then. "You tell a friend and he'll tell a friend, and then we'll get it going again."

The munchkins and I walked into the land of sunshine and palm trees, carrying our baggage and colorful Amtrak buttons and hats, hoping, indeed, that the train — then as now — does make it.

For more informationabout Amtrak, visit www.amtrak.com.