the el did cast an omnious shadow over Jamaica Ave, giving that sense of … um … shadiness that wasn’t helped much by the fact that there were two bars on every block along Jamaica Avenue. but the old timey iron structures and art deco stations of the BMT did make you feel rooted in the city, a certain era of the city anyway, that has long passed. a time when soda fountains were more prevelant than pizza parlors, when people would yield to vets, every shop had a tin roof and people wore hats all the time. something like a song off Swordfish Trombone, especially heading in through Brooklyn and passing the cemeteries.
My grandfather rode that train, so did my father. it felt timeless.