On the other hand, it is difficult to exaggerate the sheer bliss of traindom. It's early and raining; you have bad coffee in one hand and a bag of whatever in the other. You board. The conductor shouts "All Aboard-"
-really, he shouts "All Aboard," as if a small, dead, finely-furred part of your imagination has jolted to life-
and, like Frankenstein, the train roars. Afterward, the cars are quiet and musty and fat with light. The country begins to slough its skin. You ride and ride and ride and ride and ride and ride.