A photo taken from a moving vehicle.
One of the great things about digital cameras is that you can snap as many stupid pictures as you like. You can then just delete them all without any money or film or paper wasted. But once in a while, one of those stupid pictures is a keeper. That’s what I think about this photo I took while Mike was driving us across the Whitestone Bridge, from the Bronx to Queens, the day after Thanksgiving, 2005.
Thanksgiving Day had been cold, rainy, and relatively miserable. Of course, we didn’t really see it that way. Living in Arizona, you get to really appreciate rain. So experiencing it firsthand is a nice thing, even if you had to travel 2,400 miles for the privilege.
The next day dawned clear, with blue skies. The kind of day that’s common in Arizona but rather precious in New York. We were scheduled to have our second Thanksgiving dinner in Queens with Mike’s family. Although Mike’s mom lives a stone’s throw away from the Throgs Neck Bridge in Queens, you need to take the Whitestone to get to her. As Mike drove over, I was enjoying the view of New York. I snapped a bunch of pictures and this one actually came out okay.
What I like about this picture is the ship and the airplane. I don’t know why. The plane had just departed from La Guardia Airport, which is to the left, just out of the photo.
What I don’t like about this picture is what’s missing. Since September 11, 2001, I’ve only been back to New York about five times. Seeing the skyline without the World Trade Center is still difficult for me. It was such a fixture in the minds of anyone who knew the skyline — especially people who regularly saw it from a distance in New Jersey or Queens or Brooklyn. New York seems somehow older and smaller without those two towers. Probably because the tallest building in the city is, once again, the Empire State Building, completed way back in 1934.
Anyway, I know this isn’t a great picture. The color is a bit weird and the focus is kind of fuzzy. But it’s a reminder of my roots, of life in the big city, where things are busy and vibrant and everything is moving very fast all of the time.
We had a rim-view room that overlooked some of the most beautiful rock formations Sedona has to offer. We spent the late afternoon on the room’s back patio, sipping wine and watching the setting sun change the shadows on formations like the Coffee Pot shown here.
The ride ends at Perkinsville, where the canyon opens up to a broader valley. There’s a ranch there and the train stops literally in front of the ranch house. The place appeared occupied — there were horses and cattle there — but there wasn’t a person in sight. The conductor guy told us the story. Years and years ago, when the railroad was built, the land at the ranch was needed as a station to take on water and fuel for the steam engines. The railroad had offered the land owners a lump sum or a royalty for the use of the land. The Perkins family had taken the lump sum, giving up their control of the right of way. Today, under new ownership, the tour train had control of the land. The people who live in the house make themselves scarce when the train stops there on every run.
Why does the train stop at all? Well, this is the place the engines are moved from the front of the train to the back for the return ride. There’s a siding there and while we’re waiting, enjoying the scenery and feeling kind of bad for the people who have to deal with 130 tourists a day looking into their windows, the engineer takes the two engines and moves them. The task takes about 20 minutes and they sell ice cream sandwiches to us while we wait. Then we’re on our way back to Clarkdale at a slightly faster speed, leaving Perkinsville behind.
The very first image I created for this site’s rotating headers — in fact, the only image that appeared before I even installed and activated the rotating header feature — is this shot taken from our vacation property at Howard Mesa.
