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With its big, roomy cars, extensive use of trolleys and elevated lines, and its wide, solid platforms, the MBTA has a hometown, airy style of its own. Even if New Yorkers laugh at the sight of trolleys impersonating subways in the underground stations of the Green Line, the MBTA is still worthy of exploration...

Author: By Lewis Clayton, | Title: Notes from Underground | 6/28/1976 | See Source »

...With the MBTA, your hell begins considerably earlier. After getting off at Park, you have to take the green line to Kenmore, packed thirty deep into an antiquated trolley car with the temperature about average for the mid-Sahara in August. Your reward: the expense is fifty cents round trip from Harvard Square...

Author: NO WRITER ATTRIBUTED | Title: Hangin' Out in Lumpen Heaven | 6/28/1976 | See Source »

...people in Wigglesworth the 12:45 train into Harvard Square is an annoying shudder coming up from the basement. But for a small group of fanatics, the 12:45 is a sacred institution. These are the subway freaks--the guys who tape small maps of the MBTA to their wristwatch bands, who let three trains pass until they get the right car, who make tape recordings of the Muzak at the Park Street station...

Author: By Lewis Clayton, | Title: Notes from Underground | 6/28/1976 | See Source »

...subway freaks have discovered that subways are great places to meet and watch people, study, hang out, or most importantly--get to know cities. Heaven for the subway freak is certainly New York, with its 26 lines, hundreds of miles of tracks, and an around-the-clock schedule. The MBTA system is pretty small by comparison--it has only four lines, and closes down before 1 a.m., eliminating the best hours for hanging out, but the Boston subways have a certain spirit of their own which merits the attention of even the most crazed Brooklyn BMT addict...

Author: By Lewis Clayton, | Title: Notes from Underground | 6/28/1976 | See Source »

...final analysis, however, each subway freak chooses his own spot in the MBTA--and there are plenty to choose from. When I'm depressed, my favorite is the Central Square stop of the Red Line, when the last train of the night is due, and the station is deserted. A big iron monster takes the place of the turnstile after the man at the change booth has gone home for the night. On particularly bad nights, the iron monster will swallow your quarter and not allow you on the platform. But there is nothing in Boston that quite compares with...

Author: By Lewis Clayton, | Title: Notes from Underground | 6/28/1976 | See Source »

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