The Cardinal, Train No. 50
A few seats up from me sits Don and his border terrier service dog. He dips his nose down repeatedly to kiss the dog’s forehead. Don has maybe reached the age of 30. He tells me he is an army veteran who got his body blown up by an IED in Afghanistan in 2004. “It broke 18 of my bones. I have PTSD. When I get overexcited my dog calms me down,” he says while stroking the dog’s back. Don is traveling from Denver through Virginia to New York. “I can’t drive anymore. But I like trains. I love trains. I love riding trains,” he says in a rhythm that mimics the train’s rolling wheels.
Outside, the rushing white water of the New River in West Virginia meets a dam and flattens out to a still pool.
