MARCH 2012 - FICTION
In town there was the old rail yard. Beside the industrial park below Main Street it was a desolate plot of land mainly taken up by the seven parallel lines of track, the empty storage sheds and the defunct overgrown turntable that once rotated inside its shallow circular pit; orienting the locomotives in the opposite direction for their return trips, as they could not go in reverse.
On one branch of track concealed behind the abandoned train depot sat the old Pullman car. Town officials including Jeremy's father had acquired it with plans to eventually refurbish the whole interior with the mechanical workings and create a kind of mobile museum. The outside still looked all right. It would be expensive. Different ideas circulated around town, but no work had ever begun.
It used to be, the Pullman was one of many such luxury cars comprising the overnight train from New York City to Montreal. The train would leave Grand Central Station at 11 o'clock at night arriving at the Gare Centrale underneath the Queen Elizabeth Hotel late the next morning in Montreal. It became known as a party train
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