Pauline Nevins

"Ride This Train,” sang the late Johnny Cash. He didn’t have to tell me twice. I love the train. I was indoctrinated early in life.

Built in 1857, and still operating, is the Midland Road Railway Station in my hometown in the East Midlands. One hour after boarding the train, wearing stiletto heels and a beehive hairdo, a girlfriend and I would be transported from our market town where the shops shut at 6 p.m. to London, the city where the Queen hangs out. And where, judging from the nighttime crowds we saw, nobody goes to bed.
So my train memories were pleasant ones.

Before I moved to the Auburn area, I lived in Sacramento and nurtured my love of trains by taking the Coast Starlight from Sacramento to Santa Barbara to see our son and his family. Dean left Sacramento for Cal Poly University in San Luis Obispo after graduating high school. He graduated from college and I hoped he’d come home. He didn’t. He went on to earn post-graduate degrees at UC Santa Barbara. No amount of coaxing could get him to return home. I’d detect a suppressed giggle whenever he’d telephone me during the summer months and ask what the temperature was.

There were a couple of ways I could’ve traveled to Santa Barbara to visit Dean instead of riding the train. I could have flown. I’d be in the air for 90 minutes and another 90 minutes behind the wheel of a rental car headed north. But I avoid flying whenever possible.

I could’ve driven the total distance which would’ve taken three times longer. But my husband likes to drive and I’m a horrible passenger. I chose instead to shake, rattle and roll my way along the beautiful California coastline for 11 and a half hours! Yes, that’s how much I love trains.

The one disadvantage of traveling by train, as it is with any public transportation, is you have to deal with people, in close quarters. Some of them can be “a bit funny,” as my mum used to say, and she didn’t mean humorous.

One of these “funny” people sat across from me on another of my trips to Santa Barbara. The poor woman was flailing her arms and talking to herself. I know I should be compassionate when it comes to dealing with people who have challenging mental issues, but I grew up with eight siblings and learned the art of self-preservation the hard way.

There’s communal seating in the train’s dining car. I envisioned delicately sipping my soup while trying to avoid being slapped in the gob by a lunch companion who evidently enjoyed conducting a symphony.
I slithered out of my seat and headed for the dining car. I beckoned to an attendant and whispered my concern about a potential hazardous seating arrangement. He nodded, gave me an understanding smile that told me this wasn’t his first rodeo.

I returned to my seat. When my lunch number was called, I swayed my way back to the dining car. A waiter greeted me with a smile and steered me to a table where a mother and her two young children were seated. The kids spent the entire lunchtime time slapping at each other, and their food. Mother was oblivious. The orchestra conductor suddenly didn’t look so bad.

When I wasn’t avoiding unpleasant encounters, I read. On one trip I brought along my favorite author, Bill Bryson, who writes funny stories about travel. This particular book was "A Walk in the Woods." It was published some time ago, and a movie was made starring Robert Redford as Bill, and Nick Nolte as Katz, his old friend, and unlikely hiking partner. Neither man is cut out for this 2,000-mile-long trudge along the Appalachian Trail. As you can imagine, there are plenty of laughs. And laugh I did — loud and often. Tears spilled down my cheeks. I made choking sounds trying to control myself.

Out of the corner of one wet eye, I could see passengers ever-so-slowly sliding out of their seats, never to return. I heard someone complain that people were crowding into the sightseeing lounge. I pulled myself together and headed for the dining car. “What’s going on?” I asked the dining car attendant. He leaned towards me and whispered, “There’s some woman two cars back who appears to be having a nervous breakdown. She’s sobbing hysterically while reading a book.”

Well, I thought, my nose rising slightly, my mum was right. There certainly are some "funny" people who ride the train.