My favourites, purely for aesthetic reasons, are Park Avenue Tunnel Cut, New York City, and Clearing Storm, Medicine Bow, Wyoming. Have a gander. Let me know if we’re on the same wavelength.
Actually, speaking of Wyoming, a Facebook friend and I were exchanging views about lorry driving. I did it for nine years, delivering beer, wines and spirits all over Cornwall. He (FB friend) suggested that driving a truck in America would be most fun, and he illustrated his point with this little scenario: “Trundling all day across Wyoming and then stopping in some truckstop and playing pool and drinking Bud.” He later revealed that he had once spent an entire day crossing that western U.S. state, in a bus. I’d have preferred the bus over a truck and truckstops, any day.
It’s doubtful I’d have ever got behind the wheel of anything bigger than an average sized family car if we hadn’t lived in Cornwall. Driving around from pub to pub, in and out of season, was a dream job in the mid to late 80s. By the time I left, in the mid 90s, a lot of the magic had disappeared. Fewer tenant landlords, more managers. Less charm - the time when the owner of a small cliff-top hotel casually told of how she’d watched a submarine surface, as she was frying eggs for her guests – and more commercialisation.
When I go back to Cornwall, most of the old pubs are still trading. They’re the same, but so very different.
Hmm, maybe it is possible for a railway to be lost, after all.