The problem really is the return trip. In the morning, just get to the station, get the ticket; on you go.
The ride winds through the kind of country that used to be more common here — woods and gardens and small factories that once made whiskey and rye — I imagine some craft brewer will take up residence again someday.
The ride is steady enough for longhand writing and even some sketching — I’ve been on other commuting trains that rocked too much or bumped too often for my handwriting to stay legible — so I get a view _and_ potential dedicated writing time. Kind of awesome…
…until you have to figure out how to get those last 6 miles back from the train station in the absence of the car that dropped you off in the morning.
It’s a bit of a hike, and then you’d best pick the correct bus, lest you get a tour of neighborhoods that… Well it’s not that they’re totally dire. But the detours from where you want to be are constantly emphasized by the on-board announcements of transfer points for buses that could get you back home, if only you had thought to buy a transfer, or if only you were willing to stand on that unlit and somewhat dicey-looking corner to see when that other bus you’d meant to take originally is likely to show up.
The neighborhood tour wasn’t all that bad, and I knew where I was going to end up – just a few blocks from home in a very well-lit and well traveled area. So, okay. Maybe I can do this more often.