Traveling by train, a number of commentators have observed, takes passengers through the backyards of America.
Sides of houses and buildings not visible from the street are visible from the tracks.
On our trip, it quickly became apparent that many Americans use their backyards to store conglomerations of junk, a lot of it rusting steel associated in one way or another with vehicles and machinery.
"There's gold in these piles," people must think.
Stopped in Dodge City, Kansas. Tourist town. Home of Boot Hill. Statue near Main Street of Wyatt Earp.
Reminds me of how stupefied we Boomers (and our extended families) were by 50s westerns. Cheyenne, Have Gun Will Travel, Rawhide, The Lawman, The Life and Legend of Wyatt Earp, and many more; most brought to our black and white Philcos, Zeniths, etc. by cigarette commercials.
Asked Vincent about the long stop last night, and he sad it was "due to a crew change."
Already three hours behind schedule and now another hour. But, we're not in a hurry and the scenery's great.
Texted the above iPhone photo to Jim in San Diego: "This is the Kansas Dorothy was referring to. Dust Bowl country."
Jim: "Nice dirt road! I'll give you a call later on. I want to talk about the train from LA to SD. Does it stop at Solana Beach?"