Tuesday, June 1, 2010 |
11:13 - Third boxcar, midnight train
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For one reason and another I've lately been getting familiar with the Amtrak Northeast Corridor and the mode of travel it provides.
It's really not bad. Sure, it takes a little longer than flying, but for a trip of a few hundred miles or less you make up all the time you lose en route by not having to go to some inconveniently distant airport, stand in line for security, and then wait around wishing you were somewhere else. You get decent on-board food, nice cushy seats, ample storage for your bags, and even power outlets.
Why doesn't the whole country operate like this? Where's our equivalent of Europe's long-distance intercity rail network? Sure, we've all seen Who Framed Roger Rabbit? and know that the idyllic system of rail in the United States met its end at the hands of conniving automobile and tire manufacturers abetted by unscrupulous government agencies with their hands in the cookie jar. But seriously, those who point out that the only place in the country that intercity rail even makes sense at all is here on the East Coast have a point. Tiny states, each with its own large city (or more than one), all no more than fifty miles apart. Works great. But going anywhere inland, you'll be taking far longer than if you just flew. (Especially because throughout large parts of the country, the railroads are privately owned and dedicated primarily to industrial concerns, so if you take Amtrak across Nebraska you'll spend eight hours of your 13-hour trip sidetracked waiting for coal and cattle cars to go by.)
And for any travel shorter than a couple hundred miles, cars just make a hell of a lot more sense. This being a country where automobiles and their infrastructure is largely untaxed (by comparison to the European equivalent), it's just so much less of a pain in the ass to get in the car and drive for half an hour rather than walking or biking to a train station somewhere across town, waiting for a train to come at a set schedule, wedging yourself into a seat shared by some stranger whose girth and odor is a crap shoot each time (or sitting comfortably in an empty row only to remind yourself unhappily that at each stop the car will fill up more and you'll be packed in like sardines by the end), and then dealing with taxis or buses or rental cars at the far end. Cheap gas and big engines and three empty seats, and you get to decide how fast you go? Is American dreamski!
Still, when it comes to that middle ground, where you need to cover 300 miles and you don't care if it takes four hours, especially if you can snooze on the way or have a hot dog or watch a movie—and your iPhone still works so you can happily moving-map and Wikipedia your way through the history of the Pennsylvania Railroad—it's a fine idea, no matter how little it's changed since its invention.
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