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the Carolina Special out of Penn Station in NYC, changed to the Southern in DC (same train, different railroad), got off in Greensboro about 3 a.m. and caught the Over-Mountain Local into Asheville. Left Penn Station at 5:30 p.m., arrived in Asheville about 6:30 a.m. the next morning. This was during the '60s, when there was no real airport in Asheville: you could get there by plane, but with all the stops and plane-changes, the trip from NYC took 19 hours as opposed to 12 by train.
A nice touch on the Over-Mountain Local that illustrates the graciousness of old-time rail travel: there was no dining car on the local, but after you boarded, the conductor passed out breakfast menus, took your order and radioed it ahead to High Point, where the train stopped long enough to load everybody's food in covered metal trays -- typically a classic Southern breakfast: eggs, bacon, toast, fried grits, sliced tomato, fresh-brewed coffee -- all delicious. (The trays were then collected and brought back to High Point when the local made its return trip that evening.)
The U.S. is the only industrialized country in the world that is methodically destroying its railroads, and all the great Southland passenger trains -- the Pelican, the Crescent, the Carolina Special, the Silver Meteor, the Powhatan Arrow, the Pocahontas -- are gone. It makes me very sad.
(The deliberate destruction of the railroads is another way our whoring politicians have betrayed us to Big Oil: without adequate railroads, people are forced into ever greater dependence on private automobiles.)
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