I am in love with the art of travel. Trains, ferries and hot air ballooning give me the thrill of exotic places and watching the world go by at a rate that I can savor. When I see trains stations like this one in Shirley my travel blood rises and I'm ready to hit the road. I may have inherited the love of trains from my grandmother's cousin, Little Bill (not to be confused with Big Bill or Microscope "Mike" Bill), who set his watch to railroad time (whatever that means) and as an adult would go down to the train station to watch the trains go by. (I've also been told he would stand at his mailbox and watch the cars go by, clearly a sign of Yankee inbreeding). While the train that stops at Shirley will take you only as far as Fitchburg or Boston, my dream is of the Orient Express and Istanbul. By the way, the other day I was passing this station when the commuter rail was arriving from Boston. Yup, I pulled over to watch the passengers get off the train! Thanks, Little Bill, and all the other eccentrics in my family tree.
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