One thing people quickly learn about me is that I have “railroad blood.” My fascination with trains has been lifelong. When I was a toddler, my father Chilton Phoenix, a World War II vet, was studying law at Stanford University.
One day I wandered away from the student housing where my folks were living. Soon after, the search party my mother organized found me a few blocks away, in diapers, with my little red wagon, waving to a commuter train. Dad had once taken me there to see trains and wave at the engineer, so I knew the way. Continue reading