Several passengers who had been on the train from Chicago waited with us at the Fullerton Depot and pretty soon we were carrying on like old friends.
A single grandmother in her fifties, who lost her husband a few years earlier to Alzheimer's, talked about the mom and pop grocery they operated; incredibly, one couple had spent time in Whitewater, Wisconsin, where Pam and I met.
Our group was rounded out by a retired oil geologist from southern Illinois.
HeatTemperature was a bit of a shock.
Texted Jim in San Diego: "Who turned on the heat?"
Jim: "Sorry about the 90s."
"Feels good, Jim. Just wish I hadn't put the trapdoor long johns on this a.m. I was able to take the parka off."
Look before you sit
"Pam just sat down in spilled choc milk. She's not a happy camperette. On her way to the lav with new shorts."
Jim: "Some of the best chocolate milk you could sit in comes from Fullerton."
Parade of commerce
Freight trains rolled east while we waited, each loaded with containers from Asia.
They land at the Port of Los Angeles or the Port of Long Beach, first and second, in annual container traffic.*
The Pacific Surfliner came right on time and we headed south. Soon the train's namesake was visible to the West.