Locomotor Travel

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Train journeys live in hearts much longer than all other forms of transport.
Its old world charm is unparallelled, and friendships have never been stronger than on a locomotor spilling smoke and opening up verdant feilds and vast skies. Heights never gave you more vertigo, and snow never looked whiter, mankind never looked better. It’s simply as if staring out a train window, with the best music and the world at your fingertips did for modern people what seafaring did to the Caribbean man – restoring a faith in life.
Trains have almost always remained at the very core of everything. It always combined the right combination of speed, comfort and fun. Be it the chair cars with the aisle and window seat fights or the sleeper classes that see kids swinging like Tarzans or two people in intense game of magnetic chess on the two seater.
Trains have held a special, soft spot in my heart. When I was younger, trains were the monopoly of travel, interspersed erratically by road trips. My childhood was practically spent manoeuvring my tiny little self nimbly past berth railings and the steps on the side. The pillows were mine, the crisp linen and the scratchy army blankets and the too-strong air-conditioning was all a part of the parcel. The little nets on the walls on the sleeper classes were always filled with the Tinkle Digests bought from the station I had alighted from. Breakfast was bread-cutlet and dinner had soup served with soup sticks, the latter of which I never failed to steal from all members of my family and every other person’s on the coach who left it unattended.
And the cards and tambola. Oh, never do the spirit of travel games come out as much as on trains. Never have people connected stronger, faster. Never has life and the universe made more sense. Never has ecstasy escalated like this.
An ode to all train life journeys.

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