Rails to nowhere

There are many that are fascinated by trains. A friend of ours has a separate room devoted to them. I have never had a particular draw to them although I think I likely understand the allure they have and the pull others feel toward them. They are symbols of a mighty industrial past, a past tied to memories and often days of our youths.

My way home each day takes me on a highway overpass that overlooks a long stretch of tracks. They are by their nature nondescript as railroad tracks go, straight as an arrow resting on a bed of stone and earth higher than the surrounding points. They are flanked on either side by a long row of trees. Each day, if traffic permits I find myself snatching a glimpse over the rail watching the tracks disappear in the converging distance.

For some reason, trains themselves have little appeal to me, be they old fashioned or modern monsters. However, I find the tracks and structures of a railroad fascinating. Actually, I find them more intriguing when they are empty, sans locomotive. Perhaps the engine and all its cars represent the here and now, a passing by on the way to a destination. The tracks however don't give me that impression. They are a road to somewhere else, a possibility, never fully realized. They have potential, a treasure map to a far off place.

I don't know if I'll ever take a train ride to see where any tracks may lead, or ride on a trestle as it passes over a gorge or a hidden river, but I may walk a mile down the rail just to explore.