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My Train Memories
When I was little, my home stood next to a small train station. Back then, steam locomotives still ran—whistles echoing, red wheels spinning fast.
Each time we crossed the railway bridge, I begged my mother to wait until the train had passed. The thunderous roar above my head was frightening.
Inside the station, there were posters about train accidents. I remember one showing an explosion caused by carrying dangerous goods. Maybe that’s why, to me, riding a train always felt a little scary.
And yet, whenever a train passed, I couldn’t help but peek through the windows, curious about where those people were going, and what it felt like to be inside.
People often asked: "With your house so close to the tracks, wasn’t it noisy?" Those who had lived it would always answer: "No, you just get used to it."
For me, trains became part of daily life. Every night, the sound of wheels clashing against rails was like a lullaby, carrying me into sleep.
The first time I rented my own place, it was right beside an elevated subway line. But I never found it noisy—perhaps because I was already used to it. When the last train rumbled by after 11 p.m., I knew: another day had come to an end.
I can’t explain exactly why I love trains. But whenever I see the tracks, or a passing train, a thought always comes to me: This is fascinating. This feels safe.
Later, I developed the "eTicket" app to make traveling more convenient and to preserve the memories of every journey.
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