So... Hi. I'm new here. I'm here because my boyfriend is thinking about train hopping. Trains have always held a special part in my heart, but I'm also older (in my 40's) and the idea of doing this now while appealing is also fraught with fear. Fearlessness is for the young isn't it?
I've been looking into train hopping since he brought it up, and found myself fascinated yet again with that old idea...
My first real and enduring memory of traveling happened when I was pretty young, maybe 10 or so. My mother and I, along with a friend, were traveling a fair distance, and because of that we started out at night. The moon was out, beautiful and full and SO CLOSE. We were traveling by car, and I remember falling asleep, watching the moon travel with us.
My absolute favorite mode of travel is by train. The swaying of the car, the chugga-chug of the wheels as they turn, the fact that I don’t have to be in charge (though I LOVE driving, immensely, which actually says something about my love of train travel), all make for a what I consider the best traveling experience possible. I’ve taken the train twice that I remember. Over the years, between the moon ride and the second train ride, I developed a strange sort of wanderlust. It would hit twice a year, in spring and fall. Life conspired to keep me away from that urge. Although… not entirely, I suppose: I did find a way to travel, but none of that was ever satisfying.
Then I got pregnant, and that was the end of that. Except… the wanderlust would still hit, for many years after that. It was difficult to squash the urge, but squash it I did.
Now I’m in my 40s. My kids have all moved away, leaving me free to redefine myself as I wish, and for the first time in YEARS I found the desire to be AWAY hit again last fall, in a big way. Spring is coming. And there will be fall again.
Perhaps the time has finally come…
I've been looking into train hopping since he brought it up, and found myself fascinated yet again with that old idea...
My first real and enduring memory of traveling happened when I was pretty young, maybe 10 or so. My mother and I, along with a friend, were traveling a fair distance, and because of that we started out at night. The moon was out, beautiful and full and SO CLOSE. We were traveling by car, and I remember falling asleep, watching the moon travel with us.
My absolute favorite mode of travel is by train. The swaying of the car, the chugga-chug of the wheels as they turn, the fact that I don’t have to be in charge (though I LOVE driving, immensely, which actually says something about my love of train travel), all make for a what I consider the best traveling experience possible. I’ve taken the train twice that I remember. Over the years, between the moon ride and the second train ride, I developed a strange sort of wanderlust. It would hit twice a year, in spring and fall. Life conspired to keep me away from that urge. Although… not entirely, I suppose: I did find a way to travel, but none of that was ever satisfying.
Then I got pregnant, and that was the end of that. Except… the wanderlust would still hit, for many years after that. It was difficult to squash the urge, but squash it I did.
Now I’m in my 40s. My kids have all moved away, leaving me free to redefine myself as I wish, and for the first time in YEARS I found the desire to be AWAY hit again last fall, in a big way. Spring is coming. And there will be fall again.
Perhaps the time has finally come…
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