9:15 morning train from Woburn (that’s Anderson to you) on the B&M (that’s Commuter Rail to you) near a young boy, who asks his mother approximately every five seconds: “Is that the train museum? … Is that the train museum? … Is that the train museum?”

I’m not sure there even is a train museum in Boston, though I remember being intrigued by the cable car museum in San Francisco and getting a burning ember in my eye as a boy visiting Steam Town, near Bellows Falls, Vt. … the same trip where the guy with an artificial larynx at the Black Lantern restaurant in Keene, N.H., freaked me out to a new level of hypochondria.