Is there a more beautiful, eye catching vehicle of transportation than a train? Cars, by and large, just aren't that pretty. Automobiles used to be nicer, but we've taken a turn towards functionality and away from luxury and lost some of their beauty. Boats surely can be beautiful, but our eye tires of them far before we tire of a train. Finally, airplanes grace the skies, and though they mar the pristine of nature no more than trains, I can't help but wish my skies blue, and occupied by nothing but birds. No, the train is the most visually stunning vehicle we have.
History bears this out too. A trip to the impressionists wing of any art museum will undoubtedly hold a few paintings of trains, wooshing through the canvas. Or watch early film, and I mean early film, and you'll movie after movie involving trains. Back in college, I endured a wacky Russian Revolutionary film by Eisenstein himself, where shot after shot (there was no plot, thus no scene) of the trams and trains of Moscow kaleidescope the screen. In all mediums of art, the train made an instant impact, becoming one of the most sought after and captivating subjects of its day.
If you spend time near a train track, its easy to see why artists have been so inspired. The tracks themselves are memorizing, stretching off until they disapear on the horizon, or turn, ever so subtly until you can't follow them any further. Parallel lines, dashing off to places unknown, and stretching in both directions, prompting a Frost-like decision about which way to look. Above these tracks, at least in the Northeast, are electrical lines strung like taught Christmas garland over the evenly spaced posts. Never wavering from perfect right angles, the uniformity of the stance these posts take, T's with arms extending like boughs over the tracks, would make a general jealous. The perfection, the lines, the dimensions stretching on and on ad infinitum make it beautiful.
Then the train comes, growling louder and louder. The old fashioned 'clackity-clack' all but a thing of the past, modern trains hum along until they pass, revealing the chop of breaking air on each passing car, like a cleaver cutting a pork shoulder. Initially a speeding caterpillar comes to mind, given the shape of a train, but the analogy doesn't hold, as the train glides effortlessly along; the connection of the wheels and rails an afterthought, no less stunning than the MagLev, though without the speed. The grace with which they pass in the distance belie the awesome power conveyed when they pass in close proximity. The passing of a train, its noise, its wind, its power, is paralyzingly fearful, yet is filled with agog inducing awesomeness.
Unfortunately for most of us, America long ago chose the car over the train. Europe has hedged its bets, but America has embraced the superhighway and the automobile. Trains are relegated to freight passage for most of the country. Even in the major cities, train travel is rare. New York may be the only city in the country with a formidable number of commuters arriving on the rails. The arguments for public transportation and the eco-friendliness of trains over cars are all valid, but I can't help but coming back to how sad it is that most people don't get to watch the beauty of trains on a regular basis.
