I don’t usually take trains. But one weekend I didn’t feel like driving to Oregon, so I booked a ticket. Best lazy decision I’ve made in years.
The train moved slowly enough that I actually noticed things. Forests I’d driven past a hundred times suddenly looked cinematic from that giant window. Mist curled between the tall evergreens like it was rehearsed.
Inside the cabin, people were living little stories:
– a woman knitting something green,
– a kid glued to the window,
– an older man reading a book I abandoned years ago.
Travel felt human again, not rushed.
The best part? I didn’t have to do anything. No steering, no GPS, no anxiety. Just watching the world roll by while sipping bad train coffee.
I think everyone needs at least one slow trip a year — something that lets your brain breathe.
