To The Train Station, Please!
This took place way back in 2007, when I was in my early twenties, working full time at an auto parts store. I drove a white 1982 Nissan Pulsar.
It was ancient but no complaints. Relevant, I promise. It’s 7 am, I’m driving to work one morning and pull up at a crosswalk to allow a dog walker to pass me.
Without warning, my passenger door opens and a gentleman hops in next to me, nods, says a friendly hello and buckles his seatbelt.
He was a sweet-faced, white-haired senior wearing a sweater and brown pants. Definitely in his 80s. I stared in shock and stumbled my words, totally bewildered by what was happening.
He saw my expression and said “Oh! I’m sorry! The train station, please!” That’s when I saw the taxi stand near the crosswalk. Taxis here are white but definitely not hatchbacks, like my car was.
He had a big cheery smile and, still puzzled, I realized that the local train station was two streets away from where I worked. I was heading past there anyway.
And he didn’t seem like an axe murderer so, why not? I relaxed a little, shrugged and said “Uh, sure thing.” We drove off together and he peered out the window, smiling.
He said “You taxis are much quicker these days! Ah it’s a beautiful day for a train ride, don’t you think?” He looked at me, still with this big smile and said: “I’m Jerry, lovely to meet you.
I’m meeting my friend for breakfast today! I’m so excited. I haven’t been on the train in years. All my friends have passed on and I don’t really need to go out of town.
Well, not until I made a new friend recently. It’s funny how life goes isn’t it? An old codger like me with a breakfast date!
Can you imagine.”
I said, “Oh well that sounds lovely, Jerry. Where are you off to?” He cheerily described the town he was visiting (an hour away by train) and described the store he wanted to visit while he was there.
We chatted the whole way and I was so taken by how upbeat and cheerful he was. We pulled into the offloading zone outside the train station and he pulled out his wallet.
I jumped in, saying “Oh, no charge mate, I don’t have my meter working yet.” Telling a lie was better than deflating his happy spirit with an embarrassing situation.
He was chuffed. It was a chilly morning. I walked him to the ticket office, where there was a heated waiting room he could sit in until his train arrived.
He thanked me, smiled, and said “It’s a beautiful day for a train ride. You take care now.” “Take care, Jerry.” It’s been 11 years and I often find myself smiling when I remember him.