Locomotive Breath

April 3, 2025

Maturing as a human is kind of like being a train.  I know what you’re thinking, here goes crazy old Uncle Ray with another one of his far out analogies…but please, hear me out, I know this sounds a little crazy, I do! But I promise you, when you’re done reading this, you will totally agree with me.  And if you don’t, well then, you’re just wrong!  Because, as I tell my wife and children, I am always right!

When you’re a child, you’re kind of like that train at the zoo that goes around in circles.  Not very useful, but you’re cute, you toot your horn and you make people happy.  People take lots of pictures of you, love your innocence and more importantly you give Grandma and Grampa ten minutes off their feet and something to look forward to.  Win-win for everybody.

When you’re in your late teens and early 20’s, you resemble one of those Japanese bullet trains.  You’re sleek, you’re fast, you’re sharp looking, you go from zero to 200 in the blink of an eye.  The ride is smooth as glass, you arrive at your destination on time and you’re ready to do it all over again without having to rest or mend yourself.  You are a workhorse and a champ, and the world is your oyster.

Fast Forward a bit to your 30’s and 40’s and you start looking like an American commuter train driving folks from the suburbs to the cities and vice versa.  You’re a little beat up, the upholstery is a little dirty with a tear or two and there might be a few gum stains on the floors .  The windows are fogged and dirty, and there’s a crazy man two aisles over who hasn’t showered in two weeks.  The journey is slow, the ride is bumpy and most often late.  You then have to transfer to a subway where there are no open seats. The ones that are, are covered in a substance that only God knows what it is.  I guess you’re standing for the last leg of this trip. Yes, a little worse for wear, but you’re still a valuable member of society.

Now in your 50’s and 60’s you’re kind of like one of those old steam locomotives.  It takes a while for you to get moving.  Your joints and various parts creak and moan as you get rolling.  Every station you pull into, you need constant maintenance.  You’re a mess, but damn if you’re not romantic and old school in the most charming of ways.  You’re a pip and a piece of work, and although it takes forever for you to get moving, you’re a workhorse when it happens.  There is still some use for you yet.

Then the end of the line.  It’s too much to keep fixing you and you’ve become a bit of a handful.  They might be able to harvest a few parts off you here and there to keep other old-timers running, but it’s pretty much the end of the road.  If you’re lucky, maybe they’ll put you in a museum, up on a pedestal for all to see.  “Hey, this used to be a great train, a hard worker, it helped build this country! What you see now are all that remains of its once great stature.”

Most, though, are driven to the bone yard. Some are dumped into the ocean to make artificial reefs, some are left to rot in a big old warehouse with other old trains that take up room and have nothing left to contribute to society. Lined up, one by one, waiting for their turn to be dropped in the furnace to make way for the next sparkling new train to dazzle the eyes.

Whichever way, you just pulled into your last stop!

Choo Choo!  All aboard!!!

Which way to the boneyard?