Light Rail
The air was frosty. The pigeons that would gather there in warmer weather were nowhere to be found. The remains of the last snowstorm were now blackened by the pollution of the city. My dad, my mom, a family friend, and I were on our way home from a day trip to Philadelphia. The journey had been more important than the destination. We emerged from the Camden subway station and walked over to the light rail that would take us to Trenton. When we entered the train we basked in the sterile light.
We whizzed through the black night of southern New Jersey. The huge windows of the light rail made it easy to out into the distance. My dad looked through the boat magazine that someone had left there. It seemed to have been waiting for him. We sat there, on the purple seats, discussing the day, relaxed and content. The conversation slowed and ended. My dad started to read his book. Stops passed and conductors changed. The light rail continued to charge on through the, now pitch black, night.
Boom! The train jerked upward. Stunned, we wondered what happened. The light rail stopped and the conductor emerged, said, “We hit a deer,” and stepped out to look around. We laughed remembering the story we had been told earlier this morning about a deer getting hit when this light rail line first opened. The conductor came back in saying that there was no damage, and we were on our way again. My dad joked, “I wonder what a human would have sounded like.” We agreed that it would sound about the same.
This trip had not been about getting anywhere; it had been about the journey. When we had missed our train in Newark, it was not terrible, it was just another adventure. We had no aim, and we were in no rush. If the destination had been important, my dad would have driven us to Philadelphia, but he was more interested in taking a train ride. We met some interesting people, took several modes of transportation, walked around Philadelphia, had lunch, and hit a deer on the light rail. It was a complete, fun day.
We got off of the light rail in Trenton. Another leg of our journey was complete, but we were not home yet.
We whizzed through the black night of southern New Jersey. The huge windows of the light rail made it easy to out into the distance. My dad looked through the boat magazine that someone had left there. It seemed to have been waiting for him. We sat there, on the purple seats, discussing the day, relaxed and content. The conversation slowed and ended. My dad started to read his book. Stops passed and conductors changed. The light rail continued to charge on through the, now pitch black, night.
Boom! The train jerked upward. Stunned, we wondered what happened. The light rail stopped and the conductor emerged, said, “We hit a deer,” and stepped out to look around. We laughed remembering the story we had been told earlier this morning about a deer getting hit when this light rail line first opened. The conductor came back in saying that there was no damage, and we were on our way again. My dad joked, “I wonder what a human would have sounded like.” We agreed that it would sound about the same.
This trip had not been about getting anywhere; it had been about the journey. When we had missed our train in Newark, it was not terrible, it was just another adventure. We had no aim, and we were in no rush. If the destination had been important, my dad would have driven us to Philadelphia, but he was more interested in taking a train ride. We met some interesting people, took several modes of transportation, walked around Philadelphia, had lunch, and hit a deer on the light rail. It was a complete, fun day.
We got off of the light rail in Trenton. Another leg of our journey was complete, but we were not home yet.
posted by Hank at 7:40 PM
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