I wish I had photoshop so I could correct the distorted unparallelness... It makes me a little bit crazy.
But I love the train, even when I have to stop for it.
In totally unrelated news, more family/car drama and an adventure at the tire place. Less of an adventure and more of an errand that evolved into something traumatic. But the reason I tell this story is that there were nice boys there. Nice to me. Nice to look at. And do not usually find tire-replacing types attractive. Is Franklin to blame for this? And why can I not encounter such individuals in inexpensive a less painful situations?!