The morning train crosses the bridge to Bradenton on it’s way to the orange juice plant. I stood here as it blew its horn which can be heard for miles away. When I’m home I hear the horn at night and for me it’s just part of the daily sounds that make up the fabric of life in this small town. Each time I hear it I know the train is crossing the river.
When I travel to another part of the country or up to Canada and see Tropicana orange juice in a carton, I know it crossed this bridge as it left the plant. It’s a subtle feeling of familiarity when I’m far from home.
Anyway, I love traveling by train, there couldn’t be a more relaxing way to travel. Unlike a plane you can easily get up and walk around. There’s none of the nonsense about landing and takeoff and you can pretty much do as you please.
Anyway, I don’t see many passenger trains in my part of Florida. Even so they were largely responsible for the population growth in the last century. Now the trains here mostly serve industry. For instance the Ringling circus train leaves from just the other side of the river. That has a long history, and I know someone who works on that train, but I digress; another story for another day perhaps.