Visiting Governatorville

On Monday I had to visit some folk in Sacramento and I had the bright idea of taking the train from San Jose to there and back.I must say that the view of the Bay Area I got from the train was chilling. It is fair to say train routes through build-up areas never show the best of the area (who wants to live next to a train track?) but I have to say what I saw of Fremont, Niles and pretty much everywhere between San Jose and Oakland was pretty depressing. The sheer volume of garbage strewn beside the tracks and the nature of it was very depressing: rusting truck bodies, burnt out cars, tow truck lighting rigs, so much waste adorning the side of the line. And the graffiti, and the run down shacks and the garbage (did I mention the garbage?) It really depressed me.

Martinez depressed me in a different way: Here was an oil storage depot (a really really big one) and a town fused together in way only the Borg should have been capable of. Office blocks and main street surrounded by giant oil tanks and gas flames roaring into the sky. This surely was Hades.

Beyond Benicia I had hoped for a somewhat more scenic journey but alas the train neither followed the road nor the river, but struck out across the marshlands. The days dark gray sky reflected in endless, pools and tracts of water all around, leaving me wondering if the garbage was more appealing. We passed run down shacks in the middle of this wasteland, sporting the star spangled banner, a couple of trucks, some small motor boats and probably a ton of guns inside.

All of the above said the journey to Sacramento was almost flawless and I arrived almost on time, having spent the past 3 hours working away with my laptop plugged into the carriage, looking out at the interchanging scenes of desolation and depravity.

As we rolled out of Sacramento for the journey home I looked at the gathering rain storm, supped a beer and quietly congratulated myself for choosing the European travel solution. Despite the non-scenic nature of the journey, life was good and I would soon be home in time to read the wee man a bedtime story as promised. Alas, as we reached Richmond the journey home came to and abrupt stop when the train hit someone on the line.

I say someone because the train hit a person, a human being, someone who 5 seconds before was alive and breathing but now lay presumably in bits all over the line. To my mind the Amtrak staffs view was somewhat less humane. "We have struck and killed a trespasser." they announced repeatedly over the intercom. This seemed to be an attempt to justify the lawful killing of the person. He was after all not a person at all but a trespasser, a criminal who was little short of a terrorist and since the Amtrak staff were not armed they had done the next best thing and run the bastard over.

After just over 3 hours we were moving again. The poor driver had to drive the train two stations on before he could be relieved. The head conductor (the conductor of all train conductors) boarded the train and did whole "Sorry for the inconvenience bit" and so I asked him if this was a regular occurrence. He replied no and that they had only killed 5, (well now 6) people this year which was quite low compared to CalTrans who had managed to kill a total of 15 this year and they only had 89 miles of track. Boggle!

About this time I met Rita who was traveling on Amtrak for the first time. She lived in Woodside and was getting quite concerned that she wasn't going to get home that night. A flight attendant of some 39 years she kept her cool and proceeded to work through all the possible solutions from taxi's, to shuttles, to motels.

We went on to Oakland where we changed trains in the pouring rain (the station canopy having being designed to look cool rather than be in any way functional). Seeing that she wasn't having any luck I gave Rita a back stop offering that if all else failed I would take her home. She was grateful for the offer. I then went on to offer to take her to San Jose airport where I figured she would find a shuttle bus really easily. The rest the journey she dialed for $ trying to find someone to take her home. At last she found someone who would pick her from San Jose railroad station and take her home. She was delighted and exclaimed "This sounds to good to be true!" It was, and 10 minutes before we arrived she called the shuttle firm again to tell them to come and pick her up. Alas, they weren't available for another 30 minutes. She then asked if it would be quicker if she met them at the airport. They said yes, and so we set off for the airport rather slowly because the San Jose Sharks game had just finished and the traffic was at a standstill. Rita was sitting in the passenger seat of my Merc with Alexander's car seat on top of her (there was no room in the trunk). We must looked quite comical as we drove past the traffic cops directing us away from the stadium.

As we approached the airport Rita called the shuttle firm again to confirm which terminal she would be picked up at. Mysteriously the shuttle had morphed into a town car which wasn't at the airport at all but was now at a 76 gas station the junction of First street and Brokaw. I sighed ,and gunned the car down 880 and onto First. At last we found the 76 but not the town car. Another quick call and it arrived and whisked Rita off into the night.

As I drove back through the deserted streets of Los Gatos at 11:30pm I had certainly been on a journey. A journey which felt like a week compressed into a single, very long day.

I received this nice email from Rita today...

Good afternoon Rod ! :-)

Thank you sooooooo very much for your kind and generous assistance last evening.
I arrived safely home around 11:45pm.
The driver was courteous and nice. Charged a different price than
quoted.....but I didn't mind. Was soooooo happy that his company was able to take me
home.

Interesting that of the dozen or so American born people whose destination was the San Jose area......a non-native American-------a Scottish 'true
gentleman'------was the one who 'reached out' to help 'me in distress.'
I am still in awe of your kindness and your generosity. I'm sure God will
smile on you all the days of your life ..... for the wonderful ways you are.
If I can ever do anything for you or your family, please do let me know.
Gratefully,
Rita