Riding the rails

Stepping onto a train may seem a little like stepping back in time. But there’s more than nostalgia; there’s a different attitude.

It started with the conductor, who obviously knew many of the regulars and greeted them by name, contributing to a friendly atmosphere.

I got to know several passengers seated near me. One was a speech language pathologist commuting to her job at a Boston hospital. She was equipped with a sleek laptop computer. The other was a Mainer returning to his birthplace in Iowa after 50 years away. It was to be a family reunion but with a tinge of sadness. One of his brothers was in the hospital with cancer.

I didn’t have high hopes for scenery but I was impressed. Even plain old trees beat road construction. And heading through the middle of the Scarborough marsh gave me a different perspective than driving by on the highway.

What I thought would be the worst part wasn’t all that bad – I thought all of those stops would be maddening. But soon enough, I lost track of time and place without the usual highway landmarks.

– David Sharp

Bus to Boston

When we divvied up assignments for our race to Boston, getting the bus left me wondering whether I had drawn the short straw. But at the end of the ride, I realized I had come up a winner.

The trip was a lot more pleasant than anything I could remember from the cramped, noisy and uncomfortable bus rides of my youth.

The snazzy-looking navy blue coach with red and white trim was clean, quiet and comfortable. The ride was smooth and fast, far different from the bone-jarring ones that bumped along from town to town, stopping at each one.

The best part of the Boston trip came after we exited Interstate 95 and got into serious commuter traffic, the kind guaranteed to give sweaty palms to Maine motorists who seldom encounter the legendary Boston drivers on their own turf.

But on this day, I was – literally and figuratively – high above the fray. Perched in my window seat, I looked down in bemused contentment as motorists fought the heavy traffic.

When I checked the receipt on my bus ticket, I noticed the message on the bottom: “Why would anyone drive!!!”

Good question.

– Jerry Harkavy

Minivan in major city

The worst thing about driving from Portland to Boston is arriving there.

Many people have a morbid dread – not just a dislike, but an extreme fear – of driving in Boston. It’s enough to make some people take the bus or train.

For the most part, the drive from Maine to Boston is a straight shot. But once you hit the Tobin Bridge that carries you into Boston, traffic slows to a crawl, patience runs thin, knuckles turn white, blood pressures rise.

The worst is yet to come with the Central Artery – that elevated six-lane morass that passes through downtown Boston. The Central Artery was built in 1959 and has bumper-to-bumper traffic jams for more than 10 hours a day, making it one of the most congested roads in the United States.

It’s not only crowded, it’s deteriorating, it’s dirty and it’s always in a state of disrepair. The accident rate is four times the national average for urban interstates. And these aren’t just any drivers – they’re Bostonians.

If you get through all that, then you have to deal with Boston’s maze of one-way streets, double-parked cars, pedestrians, delivery trucks, construction and a plethora of signs: What a mess!

– Clarke Canfield