The streetcar is a wonderful capsule from behind a lens
By Lauren Crothers
I love to ride my bicycle, I love to ride my bike. As a foreigner, however, I’m not used to the mercury plunging as low as it's known to here.
And the ice. The ice! Treacherous. I wouldn't go as far as branding myself a fairweather cyclist though — Ireland can be unforgivably wet and there are people who can vouch for me having cycled to work or play only to resemble a drowned rat, leaving sorry little puddles pooling into the carpet around my shoes. What a sad image.As the bike's moving parts solidify in the garden shed this winter, my work commute has segued from expletive-ridden confrontations with motorists to the relative peace and undulating roll of the Rocket. Luckily, my route (the 510) flows down the Spadina artery, turning left on Queens Quay and practically to the Star's doorstep.
The streetcar is a wonderful capsule from behind a lens, which is where I often find myself. Quietly trying to blend in at the back, cringing when the clunk of my D80's shutter cuts through the air like a knife.
"What's so special about them seats?" a driver once asked me on one of my late night journeys home from work. I was the only passenger at the time, so had taken full advantage, hopping around the lolling tram as if I was the lone participant in a game of musical chairs.
"This," I said, showing him one of the pictures I'd taken.
Perhaps you'll agree.
Lauren Crothers is a Star copy editing intern with one eye behind a lens. email@example.com