A Return to the T

Riding the Train Stirs Old Memories and Creates New Ones.

My car broke down over the July 4th weekend. It was on a Saturday during a rainstorm. I had spent the afternoon with family, running errands. We started with a late lunch at the Cheesecake Factory followed by some shopping at Target. My sister needed to pick up some items from a Dollar Tree and then make a quick stop at Stop and Shop.

Everything was fine with the car as we made our various stops. There had been no forewarning that the car was in trouble. Sure, it needed an oil change and two of the tires required air, but nothing more serious than that. I should have paid closer attention to the messages that popped up every time I turned on the car. It would have saved us several hours.

I had dropped the family off at the front entrance to the Stop and Shop. I then drove down an aisle and parked. I decided to pick up some items at the supermarket as well. Again, nothing seemed out of the ordinary as I turned off the car and headed into the store. We purchased our items and returned to the car.

We loaded up the car and got in. The rain was coming down in sheets and I was eager to get home. On Saturday evenings, I meet with my writing group via Zoom. It was about six o’clock when I placed the car key in the car, held down the brake, and pushed the starter button. The engine didn’t roar to life. All of a sudden, a series of images flashed on the screen.

I didn’t immediately panic. Sometimes, the icons appeared if I didn’t press down on the brake hard enough or push the starter button properly. I removed the key, released the brake, and began the process again. It was the same result. The icons flashed red on the screen — check engine, oil change, service car now. The engine remained quiet.

After some suggestions from my sister and a couple more tries, it was clear that I needed to call for help. I went to Triple AAA online and made a request for service. The wait would be thirty minutes. That would place us at around 6:45 PM. Fortunately, my writing group had texted me and said they needed to reschedule. At least I didn’t have to worry about missing our session.

Forty minutes later, a young man in a car sped up to us. I got out to meet him, the rain making it hard for me to see. He grabbed his battery charging equipment and asked me to return to my car. He hooked up the equipment to the battery and a few minutes later asked me to start the car. I did so with the same result. The technician got into my car and tried to start it. Again, the engine remained silent.

The technician determined that it wasn’t a battery issue. My battery was nearly full. It had to be the starter mechanism. I would need a tow. After giving him the name of an auto shop, the technician put in the request for a tow truck. He said the wait would be up to ninety minutes. The technician returned to his vehicle and then sped up off into the night.

We all took turns going back to Stop and Shop to use the restroom. Luckily, everyone was still full from lunch. I chomped on some gum to keep any hunger pangs at bay. However, the wait wasn’t long. Ten minutes after the technician had left, a tow truck by the same company, pulled into the parking lot. Our ride also appeared right after the tow truck had arrived. My car was placed on the tow truck and carted away to the auto body shop.

As I sat on the train, I recalled my younger days riding to school on the train. The MBTA as it was known was called the “T” by the locals. As a child, I’d walked down Quincy Street, approximately three-fourths of a mile to the bus stop at the intersection of Quincy Street and Blue Hill Avenue. There, we’d catch the №45 bus (the only bus on the route) to Dudley Station (now Nubian Square) or to Ruggles Station (on the Orange Line). We would then ride the train into Downtown Crossing.

When I became old enough to take the T on my own, I would venture far and wide. I’d go to Forest Hills and take the bus to the Dedham Mall. I’d take the Orange Line train to Fanueil Hall Marketplace. I’d ride the Red Line to Harvard Square and hang out in the bookstores. I was my own tour guide, getting to know Boston in my own way.

With my car being worked on, it's time to get to the city once again. A lot has changed since I was a kid. A Silver Line was created that runs from Nubian Square to South Station. We also have a Seaport District with its own T stop. Much of my old neighborhood has been gentrified with condos replacing once vacant lots. The Dedham Mall received a makeover and many of its stores like Sears and Brighams have been replaced by Burlington and Five Below. Harvard Square has more shops, but some of the bookstores have closed.

I’ll probably have my car by the end of the week. For now, I have to use the T to get around or an Uber if I really want to go somewhere. I prefer the T. I like walking to the train station, looking at the homes, and admiring the gardens. Plus, I could use the exercise. The pandemic pounds must go! Also, this will be a good way to gather more ideas for future essays. You don’t have the opportunity to really look at your surroundings when you’re in a car. By walking, I can study every inch of my neigjborhood before letting the T take me where I need to go.