Feb. 2, 2007: The Workday Ride In Malvern

Photos and Story By Joe Zlomek

A lone bag sits on the steps at the train platform in Malvern PA. On this cold day, its owner likely waited in warmth at the coffee shop inside the station. Below: Among those outside, willing to brave the morning chill, were a newspaper-reading businessman.

At about 8:30 on Friday (Feb. 2, 2007) morning, the stragglers in Malvern PA began to assemble at trackside.

Malvern, a prosperous and quaint suburb of Philadelphia, and its train tracks have a long and storied history. The village is part of what is known as Philadelphia's Main Line, named for the railroad that, centuries before, ferried wealthy city residents out to what was then the countryside for summer vacations.

Malvern's countryside has long since disappeared. In its stead are pricey homes, boutique shops, and too much traffic on narrow streets. The tracks are one of its few constants.

A string of overflowing parking lots fills the half-block space between the tracks and the main street in Malvern's business district. Cars jammed at odd angles into the lots' lined spaces testify that many other commuters have hurriedly come and gone before the stragglers showed up. Easy access to the Malvern station, coupled with the crush of traffic that daily clogs the four-lane expressway east into the city, makes it a popular place from which to catch the train.

Maybe the stragglers purposely delayed their journey until this late point in the rush hour, knowing they would avoid earlier crowds jostling for position on the station platform. Maybe they hesitated until the last minute to venture out on this chilly, 25-degree winter morning. Maybe they just overslept.

Whatever their reasons, they quietly await the screech of braking steel wheels on shiny steel rails that heralds the train's arrival. One woman, a college student, studies what appears to be her homework. A businessman, wearing a suit and long overcoat, stands reading a newspaper. Both are in the minority outside, ignoring the cold. The rest are huddled within the station depot, warming themselves while sipping coffee drinks bought from a cafe inside.

Finally the train, its cars covered with the red, white and blue logos of its municipal owner, pulls in. In Pavlovian response the stragglers shuffle out, the platform empties, and another workday ride gets under way.

Racks of newspapers and magazines await riders who prefer something to read over watching the scenery pass by.