 |
I don't know where I got the idea that riding a commuter
line would take me to greener, cleaner places. Maybe it was the experience
of riding the Skunk
Train or the Yolo
Shortline. Maybe it was driving south from San Francisco on Highway
280 and seeing the city disappear into lush forest. Whatever the
reason, I was wrong.
Once we exited the somewhat-interesting-if-gritty side of San Francisco,
we entered a continuous, uninterrupted stretch of houses and strip malls
that would last all the way to San Jose. Almost indistinguishable
from each other in their lack of character or design, the houses seemed
to hunch together under the increasingly grey skies. Tilt-up strip
malls with chain stores touted by plastic fluorescent signs or endless
car dealerships lined the streets wherever houses did not.
My feeling of excitement for this trip began to vanish with the failing
sunshine. |
