Robert Verdon, #330, The Stockman Train

went on an old train today

from Canberra’s sole and farcically-tiny railway station

should have been steam but a last-minute substitution

rendered it ‛heritage diesel’, an old shunting engine by the look of it

you could actually open the window

an old sash-type window

and the carriages squeaked less than the ageing XPT

quite a few oldies aboard

oldies running it too

like being inside a big caravan

though the wooden fittings had been

replaced by plastic fakery in the seventies

we learned inter alia

that Fyshwick

the industrial suburb we passed through

had been a P.O.W. camp

for Germans in the First World War

that the folks in the Headquarters Joint Operations Command that we also passed

worked underground

that the carriages had once served as rail-ambulances

saving wounded soldiers from the added injuries caused by Sydney’s wartime roads

some of which were made with half-sunk wooden blocks

went on an old train today

wind blowing through for air-conditioning

shot through three tunnels

more leisurely arrow than bullet

so bicycle-slow on the hills

you could almost pick the wildflowers

and so noisy the cows ran from us

people waved as we passed

the horn was tooted

the kids loved it

went on an old train today

it goes to Bungendore village every third Sunday

somehow the journey delighted

more than the destination