On Taking the Train
As I sat in the Amtrak California Zephyr sightseer car, with (second) floor to ceiling windows that lets occupants look out into the myriad cornfields and rural towns the train flies through on its way to Chicago, its final destination, one of the people I was chatting with asked me why I was taking the train to Chicago.
The surface level answer is, obviously, to race bikes. I’m heading out for a track night at the Ed Rudolph Velodrome in Northbrook, followed by another three days of crit racing out of the ten days offered by the Intelligentsia Cup. And to see old friends & family from when I used to live in Chicago.
But more implicitly, the question is really “Why aren’t you flying?”.
My copassenger, who apparently cofounded one of the most famous bars on my alma mater UIUC’s campus: Kam’s, was taking the train with his wife to Galesburg, and the flight alternatives for that were horrific, thus the train option. But for me, destined for an airport hub like Chicago, to choose an 18-hour train trip (assuming no delays, and there are always delays) over a two hour flight?
Really, I think there’s several reasons that I picked the train over flying.
First, I can bring my bike much more easily on the train. No need to pack my bike carefully into a bag & hope that it makes it safely to the destination. No need for disassembly and reassembly, I can simply roll the bike as-is, fully assembled, onto the train where it hangs from a rack for my trip. That is, unless I procrastinate booking my ticket & the bike slots fill up, and then I have to try to pack my bike up for the first time anyways into the bag my buddy got me for $20 off craigslist (it is a solid enough bag, Pika Packworks). Oops. But I digress.
Another reason is the looming spectre of climate change. It’s honestly hard for me to go a day without thinking about climate change, whether it’s seeing all the cars spewing greenhouse gasses or another news story of horrific weather: flooding, wildfires, drought, tornados. Half of these I’ve had to personally deal with. Wildfire smoke (local or distant in Canada) chokes the air and makes it unsafe to be outside. Tornados and hailstorms cancelling my singular planned gravel race for the year, Robidioux Rendezvous. While individual action clearly is not going to save the planet, it’s hard for me to come to terms with flying when there are other alternatives like the train.
The passengers also make for a more interesting trip. On a two hour flight, I’m downloading a movie and rushing to finish it before we touch back down. For a nearly full day on a train, though, I would much rather spend the day enjoying the scenery outside from the sightseer car, and maybe catch up on some books I’ve been meaning to read. And maybe even attempting to restart blogging. But when you’re sitting next to people for hours on end, it’s easy to pick up on conversations and chime in, say, about how you grew up in Peoria only 30 minutes from Galesburg. Next thing you know you’re spending the next hour chatting about hobbies, the infamous bar from campus cofounded by your new passenger friend, and explaining the intricacies of crit racing.
Ultimately, taking the train is taking the slow way to travel, and I think that’s why I chose it. Spending a day in transit lets you take a forced step back from life, from chaos, and just revel in the journey itself.
When was the last time you sighed in satisfaction flying? Gotta get to the airport early, through security, maybe grab a drink at the airport bar like so many others are doing while waiting for the plane. Then boarding, hoping your luggage fits in the overhead bin because they charge extra if you try to check a bag, squeezing into narrow seats where you’ll sit for two hours without being able to stretch your legs.
Instead, I’m relaxing, taking in the views, making small talk, and just enjoying this extended liminal experience for what it is. And that makes me really, really happy.