The Driver

The Train

Ben’s house was located on the south side of the railroad tracks. There was a walking path on the south side that ran parallel to the tracks. In the spring, it had flowering trees, and in the autumn, the changing colors of the leaves would create a canopy of beauty one could walk under. For Ben, it helped him to forget his troubles, or in the case of having to take the train to work, a little bit of beauty for the upcoming day.

As Ben was walking towards the tracks, he approached the entrance to the path and breathed a sigh of disappointment at his having to go to the downtown office. Looking down the path, he could see the train platform about half a mile away, on the north side of the railroad tracks.

Already, his day was hijacked with choices to make as he reached the path entrance. One choice was to take the scenic path for a couple of blocks and enjoy some peace and tranquillity before his day got started. This posed a risk because if a freight train decided to come while he was walking, there was a good chance he would miss his commuter train since he wouldn’t be able to cross to the other side. It always perplexed Ben why, when they were building the train station, they didn’t add a tunnel to go under the tracks from the north to south side so you could get to the north platform.

His second choice was to cross the tracks at his street, skipping the path, immediately finding himself in the hustle and bustle of the train passengers who parked in the lots as they scrambled to get to the platform before the train arrived.

Ben released another heavy sigh. He crossed the tracks, wishing he had an attitude of not caring if he was late for his meeting.

As he joined the stream of commuters heading to the train platform, he imagined himself as a fish, happily swimming by himself, now stuck with hundreds of fish around him, just trying to get somewhere.

As the commuters did their best not to bump into each other or have their backpacks and bags careen into other backpacks and bags, Ben walked with the flow of people towards the platform. The sun was hidden behind the clouds, and there was a slight breeze creating the smallest of a chill in the air. Ben thought that maybe he should have brought his gloves while also realizing that even if he had them, he wouldn’t wear them. He put his hands in his coat pockets, and in his head he heard his mom’s voice, “You’re going to crack your skull open when you walk like that and trip. Why don’t you just wear gloves?”

Ben grinned a little at the thought, thinking to himself, “No one is going to fall over in this sea of people.”

Suddenly he heard a loud rumble in the distance, “Guess I made the right choice.”

As the distant rumble kept getting louder, some of the commuters started running to the station. The seasoned commuters didn’t change their stride as they could tell from the pitch of the rumble, low and slow, that the approaching noise was a freight train.

Most of the time the trains didn’t blow their horns, an ordinance and upgrades years ago helped put a stop to that, but on this morning, as if to try to scare the masses of people, the engineer blasted the horn for what seemed like minutes, but was really just a few seconds as the lead engine rumbled by.

“Hope everyone in the neighborhood is awake already. If they weren’t, they are now!”, thought Ben.

At the platform, the people who ran, not realizing it was a freight train that was coming, seemed annoyed at the veteran commuters who were starting to arrive and nudge them out of their spots. Even though everyone was technically allowed to stand anywhere, the commuters who took the train every day seemed to have assigned spots. Ben let everyone settle into their resting places before landing in his spot on the platform, doing his best not to disturb the regulars.

As his train arrived with the brakes screeching as it came to a stop, Ben hung back just a bit so the regulars could get on the train first. Following them up the metal stairs and to the aisle, the last thing he wanted this morning was to have a confrontation of, “Hey, you’re sitting in my seat. You’re going to have to move.” Ben was not in the mood, actually he was never in the mood, with the choice of trying to either assert himself with a “first come, first sit” attitude or look like a scared schlub gathering his bag, getting up, and moving to a new seat if he were confronted by a train regular.

As he made his way down the aisle and scanned the train car, hoping to find an empty double seat, he spotted one at the opposite end. Doing his best to avoid any backpack collisions with anyone already sitting as he walked down the aisle, Ben found his spot, an empty double seat, and put his bag on the vacant seat next to him.

He sat down and looked out the window.

The freight train was still going by.

“Yup, I made the right choice.”

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