Maybe it’s the love of Cash and his recurrent theme of the whistle blowin’, maybe the American literature I love—describing the building of the railroad—the early days, or maybe it is the connection to my late father who simply loved the sound of the whistle…the train is a thing of romance for me.

For most Fort Collins drivers, it is a thing of inconvenience.

The train runs through the city in two major ways—from top to bottom separating the West from the East and diagonally through the East section of town. Essentially, if there is a train, there is a wait somewhere in town.

I’ve been caught in traffic because of the trains—it’s sometimes not fun (especially when I’m running late to teach a class); however, I’ve also felt relief when those crossing gates come down just before I reach the tracks. “Okay,” I say to myself, “it’s time to slow down and take a break.” I watch patiently as the train approaches, anticipating that this will be a long one—they usually are. I turn off my engine, the music, and just listen. Whistle blowing, wheels rolling violently over tracks, the sighs of drivers behind me. For a few minutes (okay sometimes nine or ten minutes) we all just stop.

One of the coolest train experiences is to be on Mason Street during a train passing. Once we were at a restaurant when the train whistle called us to the window. The train runs right through the street—slowly chugging along as cars drive along side of it and pedestrians wait to cross the narrow avenue. One can be just feet away from the engine as it says, “Hello, Fort Collins—coming through from Wyoming to Denver to deliver some goods.” My kids were in awe as it bounded between the buildings like a big friendly dog.

Early American literature tells stories of the railroad construction, the beginning of fresh produce being sent from California to arid states that couldn’t imagine lettuce in November, and the dreams built on the prosperity brought by the rails. The train preceded the car and the plane—and like all romantic things of the past—it is a thing to treasure. It’s one of the jewels that makes Fort Collins so special.