I
love reading timetables. Not the new
ones on smartphone apps, but the old printed ones. Reading about a train or plane’s journey on
paper is almost like taking the ride itself.
Growing
up in Canada I was fascinated with the two major passenger railroads, the
quasi-government owned “crown corporation” Canadian National Railroad (CNR) and
the private Canadian Pacific Railroad (CPR).
Both ran transcontinental trains from Montreal and Toronto to Vancouver,
a journey of 70+ hours… if they were on time.
I
wondered why the CPR’s streamliner “The
Canadian” left Toronto at 4:15 pm
while its CNR competitor “The
Super Continental” left at 6 pm. And why did the CNR’s later-leaving train
arrive 4 hours earlier into Vancouver than the CPR’s? Reading the 31 stop itinerary
explained why: they took much different
routes through the Canadian Rockies. The
CPR’s more southerly, scenic route was the highlight of the trip so they timed
the journey for daylight hours.
Canada
has two official languages, English and French, so it was by reading those
timetables I learned that “quotidien” meant daily, “repas” meant meal and
“douane” translated as customs, as in crossing an international border.
Fast
forward fifty years and I’m still intrigued with old New Haven Railroad timetables, comparing that crack (private) railroad’s speeds with
those of present-day Metro-North and Amtrak.
How did the New Haven make it from New Haven to Penn Station in 90
minutes while it today takes Amtrak 109 minutes?
But
old timetables contain more than train times.
They also talk about the entire travel experience.
Did
it really (in 1955) cost just $7.75 to go from Boston to NY in coach ($14 in a
lower berth, $13 in an upper)? The old
timetables also list the trains’ “consists”… what kind of rail cars made up
each run: coaches, Pullmans, Parlor-Lounge car (some equipped with two-way
radio telephones) and diners.
On
the aviation side I remember when airlines published their own timetables too, often
promoting their advanced aircraft:
American airline’s 707 Astrojet,
United’s DC-8 Mainliner
and Braniff Airlines “Conquistador” DC-6
The
illustrations were always of well-dressed travelers smiling as they boarded
their planes using ground-stairs, long before airports had jetways. The seating looked roomy and comfortable as
well-coiffed stewardesses served elaborate meals.
But
the grand-daddy of all airline timetables was the OAG, the Official Airlines
Guide, a phone-booked-sized (look it up, kids) compendium of every flight in
the country. As a one-time road warrior
I even subscribed to the “pocket” version which was about an inch thick. Miss a flight? Your OAG would show you the alternatives.
What
I enjoyed most reading the OAG’s railroad-style timetable wasn’t the flight
times, and later, the on-time performance percentage, but the kind of aircraft
used on each flight. I took a liking to
TWA’s iconic L-1011’s and avoided American’s DC-10’s after the deadly 1979
crash at O’Hare.
And
after 9/11 I always opted for any airline flying Airbus equipment. The reason?
The 9/11 terrorists had gone to flight school to learn how to fly
traditional “yolk” flight controls, but only the airlines’ own simulators could
train pilots on the Airbus fly-by-wire joystick controls: i.e., Airbus jets were not going to get
hijacked. Or so I hoped.
Today
there are no paper timetables. All the
information is online and on my phone… handy, but not as romantic.
Posted with permission of Hearst CT Media