Semi-funny story. When AO & I put in the offer on this place we now live, I had no idea that the train ran through our backyard. I have no excuse for not knowing: this isn’t a foreign town to me; I’m capable of reading maps (some would say I’m obsessed with them); and I semi-got that the reason our well-endowed house was priced so cheaply was because of location. I just wrongly concentrated solely on its front-facing problems, i.e. East Wash. Boo.
But ohmigawd, there’s a train, too. But I’ve come to see what others may view as a downside is something, well, if not charming, at least memorable.
I’ve come to love the trains, which come largely in the wee hours. Is that weird? I know that they’re so loud and make such different noises than the street sounds on the street side of life. But I find them so oddly comforting, even when they’re acerbic.
So, I’d say I’d move away from this damn car-infested street any day of the week, but I want a train in my backyard.
life and puppies 
That’s sweet. I use to love the sound of the city bus on Cherokee Dr. But the route was changed to Nakoma Rd. Boo.
I totally get that. Sometimes at night in the summer when the windows are open, I can hear the train as it does its starting and stopping routine at the paper mill. There is something very comforting about that sound.
Right?! I don’t know if it’s a romantic sound or just a reminder that life is moving or what it is, but it’s so oddly soothing. Even as it’s jarring on its face.