Route 60 Journals March 2, 2004 Richmond to Chicago — How do you say farewell? Leaving the people and places you love for far-off adventure is a bittersweet occasion. But I must go. Kerry took me to Richmond’s Amtrak Station and waited. The parting was touching. I felt guilty to leave, but I must go. The first stop north is Ashland, a beautiful town sited along the track in the Southern style—the main street is Railroad Street. I could see the Ashland Coffee & Tea and thought of the times that I watched the passing trains from their deck, wishing I might be off on a rail trip. Now, in a twinge of anxiety, I longed to be on the familiar early morning breakfast ride from home to Ashland, sipping coffee on that deck—far enough I thought. Crossing a favorite canoeing river, the Rappahannock, Virginia becomes Northern Virginia, a supercity where commerce and government mix in a bewildering swirl of traffic and condescension—too far I thought. But the road summons me again. As the train pulled out of Washington at rush hour, I looked out a window at the snarled traffic. My thoughts went out to my friends in O’Toole’s Bar window, where most every afternoon we sit and watch south Richmond’s rush hour, such as it is. I’ve heard that D. C. traffic is right up there in worst place behind Los Angeles. I’ll soon see. The beautiful Maryland countryside leads into the Appalachians as night falls over the landscape. Train food and beverage are good and the company interesting. “Where are you headed?” “California.” “Live there?” “No, Virginia. Going out to ride back…” |