On a scalding hot weekday morning, Baltimore-area residents boarded the region’s light rail line running from Hunt Valley south to BWI Marshall Airport and Glen Burnie.

Doors malfunctioned, conversations were interrupted by incessant honking, cigarettes and empty alcohol containers lay scattered across the floors, and people spaced out across a half-full train car muttered loudly about delays. But those who use the state-supported transit service depend on it. They say it’s not only the safest and most reliable way to get where they’re going, but also the only way they can afford.

Those are also some of the reasons Gov. Wes Moore is reviving the east-west Red Line light rail project almost a decade after then-Gov. Larry Hogan nixed it in 2015, instead opting to improve the state’s roads.

Throughout the morning and afternoon, the train shuttled workers at Napa Auto Parts, Royal Farms, Delta and Southwest Airlines to and from work. It offered a calm and air-conditioned environment for homeless residents to visit their favorite library, a vehicle for moms to take kids on shopping excursions downtown, and a shelter for air travelers from the rain and lightning on the final leg of their journey home.

By 9:30 a.m., John Saab, a fare inspector dressed in a uniform polo and black slacks, had already been working on the train for about five hours. Now past the early morning rush, he relaxed into the late morning lull.

Saab counted passengers and recorded his tally. He does this about 20 times a day, he said. When someone doesn’t have a ticket, he lets them get off and buy one. Others can’t afford the $2 one-way fare.

“Some people, I might kick them off,” Saab said. “I try not to.”

Fare revenue on the light rail has declined from $7.2 million in fiscal 2018 to $2.5 million in fiscal 2023, excluding fares purchased through app services, according to Maryland Transit Administration data. Meanwhile, the core cost of maintaining the light rail, has risen from $33.1 million to $37.7 million in those same years.

Though ridership nose-dived at the start of the decade, from 7 million rides in fiscal 2019 to 4.7 million in fiscal 2020 and 2.5 million in fiscal 2021, it’s been slowly recovering each year, according to MTA data.

Ridership now lingers at around half of what it was before the coronavirus pandemic, which began in March 2020. In the first 10 months of fiscal 2024, the light rail was boarded nearly 3.6 million times.

As the state prepares to launch the Red Line through the city and open a Purple Line between New Carrollton and Bethesda, lawmakers, transportation experts and community advocates have questioned investing in these large projects. They say the light rail is a more rigid system than buses and sometimes slower than subways, as it is partially dependent on traffic lights. It’s also prone to mechanical problems.

Riders say, despite its imperfections, the existing light rail service makes their lives monumentally easier.

About 30 passengers headed toward Hunt Valley during the 9 a.m. hour, filling about half of the train car’s seats. Some slept, spoke Spanish over the phone, played music out loud and caught up on late-night TV.

Later that hour, a man in a Pittsburgh Steelers hat with a Bible by his side flashed a laminated ID card. It noted he was a mobility customer. James Jordan, a proud Pittsburgh native and several-decade Baltimore resident, recently became homeless after suffering a stroke and being evicted.

The 72-year-old with partial facial paralysis now rides the train about five times a week. He used to have Cadillacs, he said, but things changed.

“If I had my choice I wouldn’t be on the light rail,” Jordan said.

He’s staying at a mission in downtown Baltimore that requires him to be out of the building throughout the daytime so he hops on the train.

Jordan, who graduated from Carnegie Mellon University and spent nearly four decades in sales, takes the train to the Patapsco stop. He visits Arundel Mills mall by bus and then Glen Burnie to charge his phone at the library.

As it headed south, the train picked up a few dozen riders around the Baltimore City stops. Lexington Market and Westport saw a spike in activity.

The ends of the line, Hunt Valley and BWI, as well as McCormick Road, which is primarily used by workers at McCormick & Co., are some of the most popular stops, Saab said.

Cultural Center in the Mid-Town Belvedere area is also a top destination. That’s where Katrina Clemons boarded with her daughter, who donned a frilly pink dress for a day on the town.

The duo had spent the afternoon shopping at Mondawmin Mall and were heading home. A stuffed animal sat in a plastic bag on the seat beside Clemons. Meanwhile, her daughter — eating a bag of Ruffles while wearing ruffles — sat on her lap.

Clemons is a stay-at-home mom of four. Without a car, the light rail is critical for her to keep the kids occupied during summer vacation.

“I can get to where I’m trying to get to in a decent amount of time, cover a lot of ground,” Clemons said.

She doesn’t view the light rail service in a vacuum or expect it to serve all her needs. To her, it’s part of the larger public transportation network in the city, including buses and the subway. The light rail, which she’s been riding since the mid-2000s, is a key component of that system, she said, enabling her to get to the fringes of the city she couldn’t access otherwise as easily or quickly.

As the train traveled south toward Anne Arundel County, riders got situated in upholstered seats covered in a 1980s bowling alley-inspired print. The train passed over the water and riders remarked how odd it was to see Baltimore’s skyline without the Francis Scott Key Bridge. Children asked adults whether there were sharks in the Patapsco. Adults were fairly confident the answer was no.

Dallas Thompson, a construction worker, got off a northbound train at the Camden Yards station.

Ever since Thompson’s car was stolen about a year ago, he’s relied on the light rail to get to construction projects around the region. Though he sometimes has other options, taking the train is a point of dignity for Thompson, who said he wants to model self-reliance and resourcefulness for his two boys.

“I’m just very prideful,” Thompson said. “I don’t want to ask for nothing.”

His colleagues expected him to quit when he lost his car and couldn’t afford another, Thompson said, but instead, he began taking public transportation to job sites, like his current one in Brooklyn Park.

Sometimes, his commute exceeds two hours from his home in Northeast Baltimore, but to get to work “I’d do anything,” he said.

The existence of the light rail and its speed are critical for Thompson, who is paid on an hourly basis. His day’s pay is directly tied to when the light rail gets him to work.

Generally, it’s a calm atmosphere onboard, but that can change depending on the riders.

“You don’t know people’s mindsets. You don’t know what you may run into, how this person may feel. It can be dangerous sometimes,” Saab said. “I’ve never been hurt, but I’ve had confrontations.”

A rider once threatened to put his cigarette out on Saab’s face, he said. If things become aggravated, he’ll call for police backup.

Only a handful of people are on board during the light rail’s midday off hours, though about two dozen riders in work attire for auto parts sales, elder care and veterans services got on and off as the train’s final rush hour started around 3 p.m. and it headed for the airport. The smell of marijuana wafted across the car around 4:20 p.m.

During the train’s final stop at BWI around 5 p.m. Ron Robinson and Katie Tennant crossed paths. Tennant carried a suitcase following her trip from Boston that had recently landed at the airport. Meanwhile, Robinson, a Southwest flight attendant, exited the train to service a flight heading to the same city.

Robinson had taken the light rail to work for two years; this was Tennant’s first ride.

Airline, food service and hotel workers collapsed into seats, greeted one another, gossiped about the day, and geared up to do it all again the next day.