From Mashable
Two decades ago, I crossed the United States by train for the first time. I left Portland, Oregon, and the gloomy shadow of my first break-up with my first American girlfriend, went up to Seattle, then crossed a restorative, fluffy-cloud-filled Big Sky to the plains of North Dakota and Minnesota and Wisconsin, where we were briefly halted by a cow on the track. The Empire Builder dropped me at Chicago, then it was on to New York, Boston and the plane that would take me back, unwillingly, to London. The hours flew.
But here's the thing I remember above all about that tri .. Read More
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