On the return trip I got to see a nice bit of your neck of the woods--not Manhattan of course, as I'm sure you know the train dives under the East River and doesn't come up for air until the swamplands of New Jersey--but I got a nice overlook of, I think, Brooklyn...maybe the Bronx. It's funny, I've come late to train enthusiasm, mostly because my father is such a train nut. A national timetable of routes from about 1908 used to be part of his bedside reading matter. And my grandfather wrote a book called ˆHigh Green and the Bark Peelers, about the Boston and Maine. I had always felt that was their turf, somehow, and avoided it like many young people steer clear of their parents' enthusiasms. Now I feel like I could ride trains around the country indefinitely, had I the do-re-me.