A Saturday Morning Ride into Town

6 December, 2014

Waiting at the carstop at Broad & Canal, I'd crane my neck and squint to see if I could see a streetcar in the distance. A couple of others waiting with me did the same. The wait  was not long, and soon enough an old, green streetcar would come into sight. 

It hummed along down the tracks toward us, hissed to a stop, and the doors clattered open. 

Boarding was at the rear, and there to greet the newly-embarking passengers was a uniformed man called a conductor. He collected the fares, dealing out change from a coin dispenser he wore on his belt, ringing a bell for each fare collected.

The fares paid, we each made our way to one of the wooden bench seats, as the conductor rang another small bell twice, signaling that we were ready to go. 

Before most of the new passengers had even made it to their seats, the car lurched forward, and the low, accelerating whine of a powerful electric motor could be heard as it powered the old trolley down the right-of-way. 

As for me, I used to stand at the front vestibule window next to the motorman. 

The humid summer air became cooler as the wind breezed through the front windows. It was a grand view of the passing scenery, the traffic, and the buildings of downtown looming larger and larger. 

About a year ago a friend discovered a photo online of a CANAL car with someone who looks exactly like me! Even my wife thinks it is, and I'd like to think so.

 Even if it isn't me, it's a reminder of days gone by: streetcar rides into town, the gentle rocking as it rumbled and clanged away down the neutral ground, the special smell of electric ozone, and the chug-chug-chug of the air compressor. Such were some of my fondest memories as a kid - and it only cost a dime!