When I decided to ride Amtrak's Heartland Flyer from Norman, Oklahoma, to Gainesville, Texas, after checking to find out the fare was reasonable ($25 one-way, because of booking so close to departure), my plan was to drive my car to the Norman Depot and leave it until I returned, either that evening or the following day. But my husband, Gene, mentioned on the Friday afternoon before I was to leave Saturday morning that a co-worker had told him it wasn't safe to leave a car overnight at the depot. I don't have anyone (besides Gene, who would already be in Texas) I'm comfortable calling on short notice for something like a ride to the train station on a Saturday morning. So I really didn't know what I would do. If I hadn't already booked my reservation, I probably would have canceled the trip. The fun, convenience and spontaneity of riding the train was lost if I had to start calling to find a ride! On top of that, it was hard for me to believe the city of Norman (and Amtrak, for that matter) wouldn't make it a priority to keep passengers' cars as safe as possible. And the train station is right across from the Sheriff's Department and not far from the police station. But it's also right across the tracks from services for the homeless. Because of that, after Gene raised the concerns, I didn't dare want to risk leaving my car there and having it stolen or broken into.
So, acting on about the same kind of whim that led me to even make the train trip, I checked the Yellow Pages to see what kind of taxicab service Norman has. I called and found out a trip to the depot would be about $12. That seemed pretty reasonable. I called for the cab to arrive about 8:15 a.m. for my 8:50 train departure. The driver seemed to be glad to have a fare in what he said is a pretty slow summer in Norman (although not as slow as it used to be). It was a pleasant, leisurely way to get to the depot, and I figure the fare plus a small tip was worth it for convenience and car insurance!
At the train station, I had the pleasant surprise of realizing the depot is home to the Performing Arts Studio of Norman, and on display was an art exhibit for which I had just edited the newspaper's review at work the day before. Dixie Erickson's excellent "Instrumental Art" centered on banjos.
From The Oklahoman's review by John Brandenburg: "This banjo was the director of my band — I played all the variations," the Norman artist said of her use of various media and methods to celebrate the instrument. "My music is sight, not sound — all the different styles, all the different mediums, all the different looks of the banjo."
I never seem to make it to galleries to see art exhibits, so I was glad this was placed along my pathway to ride the train! Adding to my enjoyment of the exhibit was the juxtaposition: To see the single-themed artwork, I had to look above the wide variety of people seated below the mounted pieces, waiting for the train to arrive.
I guess the point of all this is to note that my decision to take a different route to a familiar destination led to unexpected perspectives and experiences. And that seems to be how it always is with life. I'm glad I was open to the opportunities. I hope to experience more soon.
Showing posts with label train. Show all posts
Showing posts with label train. Show all posts
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Friday, July 16, 2010
Carried away by the train!
Something there is about riding a train. I don't recall getting excited about the arrival of a Greyhound or Continental Trailways bus back in the day. But some 30 years ago and again Saturday, I shared in the almost magical anticipation along with people from toddlers to grandparents and a range of couples, singles, families and even a 20-strong group wearing shirts proclaiming "The Royal Family of Lunch Ladies" -- all waiting for the train to arrive. "How will we know when it's here," a pretty young girl, maybe 4 or 5 years old and wearing a flowery summer dress, asked her family. Oh, you'll know, I wanted to tell her!
And soon there was the distinct sound of the train whistle, and then the vision of that intense light, for a short while barely seeming to move closer, and then suddenly at the station.
People seemed exceptionally good-natured awaiting, boarding and riding on the train. The Heartland Flyer's crew was friendly and professional. For someone more used to traveling in a plane, the seating seemed roomy and comfortable. The ride was smooth and amazingly quiet. The pace seemed leisurely.
In the nearly 29 years I've lived in Norman, Oklahoma, I've made the trip homeward to Gainesville, Texas, many times, mostly in a car or pickup, occasionally passing overhead in a plane. Except when construction causes traffic to bottleneck, I don't mind the ride along Interstate 35 at all and in fact enjoy parts. But making the journey on the less-traveled tracks of a train, through trees and brush and pastureland and right up against a face of the Arbuckle Mountains at a couple of places, provides a refreshing new perspective.
The people: I don't recall wondering about the stories and destinations of fellow vehicle-bound travelers on the highway, but aboard the train, leaving the driving to someone else, it was fun to wonder, eavesdrop and share stories. The guy sitting next to me was using the first of his 18-trip ticket package to travel from Purcell to Fort Worth to see his girlfriend. They hoped to watch a Rangers baseball game, even though it looked like the trip south was headed toward rain. In the row ahead, a 60ish couple traveled with two young grandsons. They, also, were trying to plan adventures around the rain; would it be the zoo or a museum? And of course I regret not getting to find out the story of the Royal Family of Lunch Ladies, but they were boarding when I spotted them, and I'm not sure where they ended up sitting.
The scenery: I think my favorite view is gliding through tall grass, brush or trees that seem to grow right up to the tracks. The recent rains added to the lushness, I'm sure. They also enhanced the view through the Arbuckles, where twice we got a good look at the winding Washita River. (The stewardess -- is that what she's called? -- described it as looking like a sea of chocolate milk. I think it had some strawberry in it, too!) I'm also fascinated by running so close to cow pastures, small towns, oil-industry compounds and railyards. And something intrigues me about crossing under the highways that are my normal pathway. The final fun perspective was actually crossing the trestle bridge over the Red River that I seem to always notice to the west when I cross into the home state on the highway.
I was met at the station by my mom, and after some shopping, we went out to the family farm, where I spent the afternoon visiting my parents and catching up and getting the facts straight on some family history. Then my husband, who had driven to Texas earlier to take care of some things, came over for steaks and then to drive us back to Norman.
To my surprise, as we headed across the Red River northbound on Interstate 35 about 7 p.m., just to our west was the leisurely Heartland Flyer. Rainbows to the east for much of the return trip were one more reminder that this was a day trip for which I had been destined.
I'm not sure when I started hearing the low train whistle calling me to ride, but I'm blessed to have responded by jumping on board! If I'd taken time to plan my trip, I could have saved money. But I probably never would have made it to the train station. I would have convinced myself it wasn't worth the cost, that it wasn't convenient or that it wasn't practical. And I would have missed a great day!
Sometimes God clearly says: This one's yours. ... I'm grateful I was able to hear, and I pray to continue to grow in awareness and responsiveness to such calls.
And soon there was the distinct sound of the train whistle, and then the vision of that intense light, for a short while barely seeming to move closer, and then suddenly at the station.
People seemed exceptionally good-natured awaiting, boarding and riding on the train. The Heartland Flyer's crew was friendly and professional. For someone more used to traveling in a plane, the seating seemed roomy and comfortable. The ride was smooth and amazingly quiet. The pace seemed leisurely.
In the nearly 29 years I've lived in Norman, Oklahoma, I've made the trip homeward to Gainesville, Texas, many times, mostly in a car or pickup, occasionally passing overhead in a plane. Except when construction causes traffic to bottleneck, I don't mind the ride along Interstate 35 at all and in fact enjoy parts. But making the journey on the less-traveled tracks of a train, through trees and brush and pastureland and right up against a face of the Arbuckle Mountains at a couple of places, provides a refreshing new perspective.
The people: I don't recall wondering about the stories and destinations of fellow vehicle-bound travelers on the highway, but aboard the train, leaving the driving to someone else, it was fun to wonder, eavesdrop and share stories. The guy sitting next to me was using the first of his 18-trip ticket package to travel from Purcell to Fort Worth to see his girlfriend. They hoped to watch a Rangers baseball game, even though it looked like the trip south was headed toward rain. In the row ahead, a 60ish couple traveled with two young grandsons. They, also, were trying to plan adventures around the rain; would it be the zoo or a museum? And of course I regret not getting to find out the story of the Royal Family of Lunch Ladies, but they were boarding when I spotted them, and I'm not sure where they ended up sitting.
The scenery: I think my favorite view is gliding through tall grass, brush or trees that seem to grow right up to the tracks. The recent rains added to the lushness, I'm sure. They also enhanced the view through the Arbuckles, where twice we got a good look at the winding Washita River. (The stewardess -- is that what she's called? -- described it as looking like a sea of chocolate milk. I think it had some strawberry in it, too!) I'm also fascinated by running so close to cow pastures, small towns, oil-industry compounds and railyards. And something intrigues me about crossing under the highways that are my normal pathway. The final fun perspective was actually crossing the trestle bridge over the Red River that I seem to always notice to the west when I cross into the home state on the highway.
I was met at the station by my mom, and after some shopping, we went out to the family farm, where I spent the afternoon visiting my parents and catching up and getting the facts straight on some family history. Then my husband, who had driven to Texas earlier to take care of some things, came over for steaks and then to drive us back to Norman.
To my surprise, as we headed across the Red River northbound on Interstate 35 about 7 p.m., just to our west was the leisurely Heartland Flyer. Rainbows to the east for much of the return trip were one more reminder that this was a day trip for which I had been destined.
I'm not sure when I started hearing the low train whistle calling me to ride, but I'm blessed to have responded by jumping on board! If I'd taken time to plan my trip, I could have saved money. But I probably never would have made it to the train station. I would have convinced myself it wasn't worth the cost, that it wasn't convenient or that it wasn't practical. And I would have missed a great day!
Sometimes God clearly says: This one's yours. ... I'm grateful I was able to hear, and I pray to continue to grow in awareness and responsiveness to such calls.
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