This is the train station in the little rural town where I grew up in. I was always late in the morning, so to make it to school, I had to run like crazy to make the train. The problem was that, to make the train stop, you need to be at the station before the train arrives to push a button that signal the train driver to make the train stop, otherwise the train just blasted through the station. Usually there would be other passengers that had pushed the button, but there was no guarantees. Therefore I developed a strategy where I ran the last part of the way to the station right next to the rail tracks, so the driver could see me running so he would know he had to stop. It actually worked. Sometimes. And sometimes it didn’t, depending on the drivers mood I guess.
Growing up the local train was a life line for us teenagers. Every day I spent hours in the train. back and fourth to school and usually back and fourth to the skatepark that was forty minutes away. I still remember the smell of stepping into the fogged smokers cabin in the morning. Every morning we had the same rutine. A packed train and the same employees checking our tickets. Over time I got to know many of the employees. On numerous occasions they had to wake me up when I was riding home from a party — and sometimes I even got to ride along with the driver in the cockpit.