ABOARD FRONTRUNNER

In the great tradition of railroading, the FrontRunner shows the buttside of the country.

From the train, I gaze upon junked cars, oil refinereries and their rusted tanks and abandoned industrial equipment. A horse or two and a pasture of Holsteins is a rare treat.

In the Wasatch Front burbs, it's worse. We're treated to the messy backyards of identical crackerbox homes. Out the windows, I can seen poor schmucks in cars as the traffic on I-15 thickens.

I talk to an off-duty FrontRunner operator, what used to be called an engineer. He's a former bus jockey. How's he like driving trains?

"It's fun." he says with a wide grin. "I get great overtime."