I want a train for Christmas.  The Japanese have "bullet trains," and the Europeans have great trains too.  Why can't I?  I'd love to hop on one and go visit people in San Francisco and LA.
         I'm prejudiced, but I think the west coast of North America may have the cutting edge of human intelligence and creativity.  It could all be connected with good train service.  I'd like to visit Portland, Seattle, and Vancouver again.
         I don't expect Santa to give me a train this year or next, but fortunately (if the
geologists' article in "Scientific American" was correct) oil prices will skyrocket in ten years or so.  Maybe then we'll apply our ingenuity to developing sensible transportation in the USA.  Also, organic farming may then accelerate even more than now, because our current monoculture-oriented food supply is driven by cheap oil at every phase of production, packaging, and distribution.
         Our current transportation options are dismal.  Pretty much everyone must have a car, a huge expense that keeps many on the treadmill.  It's wasteful to fire up the 3300 pound beast every time I want to relocate my 160 pound earthly temple.  Over time, I am making different choices and putting progressively fewer miles on my Civic Hatchback.
         Recently I rode with a friend down to Orange County, where I visited my dad.  I hoped to return here by train, but a nightmare of multiple transfers, layovers, and bus trips between train stations scared me off.  Flying (especially to and from Humboldt) is often a big hassle; simply booking your ticket can be a major ordeal, and if you don't do it weeks in advance the fares are especially prohibitive.  So I rode Greyhound back home.  As in the past, the bus was slow, reliable, and hassle-free.
         From LA to Oakland, I sat with a fascinating fellow--about 60, a recovering
gambling addict with carpentry skills who was ditching Las Vegas to start over in the Bay Area.  His hope was alive and his insights enriched my life, but I wouldn't have met him had I been isolated in a private automobile.
         The private car is a perfect vehicle for maximizing corporate profits in oil, rubber, steel, road building, manufacturing, and hundreds of related industries.  Our cars gobble the world's resources at an astounding rate.  In addition, car-based suburban development discourages us from our walking exercise and increases the tendency for isolation in our homes, where television bludgeons us with the idea that fulfillment is found in ever-increasing possession and consumption.
         For many, the mention of LA creates instant images of snarling traffic jams.  If traffic is moving, it's usually heavy.  I have a theory about the ultimate purpose of driving in such conditions:  mastering the intense hand/eye/foot coordination needed to maneuver in heavy traffic is required for the next stage of human evolution.  I heard a similar idea expressed by an Air Force official a few years back:  he was enthusiastic about complex and fast-paced video games, because they develop the exact skills fighter pilots need--so these games are helping train a whole new generation of warriors.
         We are finding more opportunities to practice our traffic skills on increasingly
crowded Highway 101.  I've noticed a lot more traffic just since I moved here from San Francisco in 1992.  I myself am one of the burgeoning crowd; I apologize to long time residents, and hope I can contribute more than I take by living here.
         I also hope our planners and builders see that the isolating car-centered kind of suburban development so common in the U.S. harms our communities today, and will also be ill-suited to our future needs if energy and transportation costs go up a lot.
         The fact that many Humboldt and McKinleyville citizens are involved in  these issues is very exciting!  In most places, no one would question how many obnoxious signs Rite-Aid wanted to throw up, and a Eureka Wal-Mart would now be exalting in the Christmas shopping frenzy.
         The idea of anything resembling an ocean-view Wal-Mart out by the airport makes me shudder.  Why should I drive to such a place and buy shoes mass-produced by virtual slave labor in Indonesia?  The whole process is enabled by injustice and cheap oil.  I'd rather walk a few blocks and buy quality shoes made closer to home.  When the living earth is respected, when workers have decent conditions across the globe, and when oil prices respond to dwindling reserves and an increasing expense of extraction, then local shoes may actually become more economical than imported ones.  I'll celebrate on that day, and maybe then I'll get my train, too.