More (or less) than meets the eye…

What forever perplexes me is the blatant disconnect between the outer and inner appearance of a TTC vehicle (specifically subway cars). Its like expecting a sweet piece of Lychee fruit and biting into a pickled cocktail onion (unless you like pickled pearl onions, and then it’s the reverse…)

It is basically a tin-box with rivets acting as a giant rat shield protecting riders from the casualties of tunnel travel, the severed, gut-spewing vermin flying this way and that.

Popular imagery of the subway shows it in motion, blurred, speeding through tunnels toward destinations near and far. This speeding subway car often brings to mind a plethora of engineering marvels, chiefly, a cutting-edge veneer or design to increase speed and velocity. Maybe I’m picturing the luge bobsleds of the Olympics which are much more impressive or maybe Disneyland's Monorail…but I digress.

I imagine the stainless steel Bombardier rail-runner gliding into position through a cloud of mist grandly announcing its arrival for a bevy of anxious bankers and lawyers… wearing top hats and checking their pocket watches…. No wait, that’s Shining Time Station. Okay, wait… daycare teachers and students (yes, that's it!) resting assured that they will arrive to school on time and glad to be actively reducing their carbon footprints as they queue up for entry.

But, on the Bloor-Danforth line, when the doors open to allow commuters in, its like stepping into another era. This futuristic bullet suddenly becomes the classroom of Welcome Back Kotter with its charming marigold seats and wood paneling accents.

Granted the red crushed-velvet-esque upholstery of more modern cars is a welcome update to the puke-yellow vinyl, but even the updated interior leaves a lot to be desired.

There are some pros to the old vinyl seats though. You are actually able to discern whether or not your seat is urine-soaked prior to sitting, unlike the is-it-or-isn’t it damp camouflage properties of red velour...