I hate New Year’s.

It’s that whole heightened expectation thing.

I blame Dick Clark. And “When Harry Met Sally.”

It’s supposed to be this magical thing. But even if you’re as lucky as I am and get to kiss somebody you love every New Year’s Eve, it always feels like a manufactured moment. Because it is.

That said, I can’t imagine a better place to celebrate 2013 than on the New Year’s Eve Dinner Train ride through the Royal Gorge.

You can ride the Royal Gorge Route Railroad through most of the year, but they really step it up for the holidays.

My and my wife’s gorge adventure started with an email from our friends, Barry and Lisa, suggesting we do the New Year’s Eve Dinner Train.

Sounded like a weird idea. But why not? Barry volunteered to be the designated driver, and he and Lisa put together a mixed tape for the drive — all train songs.

We rode down Colorado 115 hearing about the bottle passing on the City of New Orleans and the dreams crushed on the Midnight Train to Georgia.

I knew we’d hit the right vibe when, just as we were passing Supermax near Florence, Johnny Cash commenced to sing about Folsom Prison. We were ready.

We picked up our tickets at the cute, old-fashioned depot, which doubles as a gift shop, and then climbed aboard the powerful-looking, 1950s streamliner. We noted that our posh Observation Dome dinner car still was decorated with white Christmas lights (the previous week, our New Year’s train had been the Santa Express), and slid into our comfy booths.

The first order of business for Barry — yes, our designated driver — was to find out how stocked the bar was.

Our jovial waiter, Jonah, assured us it was fully stocked.

“Everything but ginger ale,” he said.

Naturally, we ordered ginger ale, and he gave us a look that seemed to say, “I can tell this is going to be a long trip.”

Later, we would try to get all of our fellow passengers to order ginger ale.

We’re not nice people.

As the train began to descend into the gorge, we noted that the rock walls were dusted with snow. And there were plenty of snowy, icy islands reaching across the Arkansas River just outside our window.

I had wondered if we’d be able to appreciate the gorge at night, but the train puts out plenty of light, and as the walls rose majestically above us, it felt like we were descending into a mysterious cave.

After Jonah alerted us we’d be coming to the Royal Gorge Bridge soon, we took a quick trip to the open-air observation car next door. It’s cold and windy, but the views are spectacular.

Soon, we passed a giant river-bank Christmas display, another pleasant holdover from the Santa Express, and then the bridge, which seemed to stretch a mile over our heads.

Lisa noted that it felt like we were with the AdAmAn group, which was, at that moment, climbing to the summit of Pikes Peak to set off fireworks.

We also were experiencing the rawness of Colorado’s natural beauty at night, only without having to actually work for it.

After reminding fellow passengers to order the ginger ale, we were called back for our meals.

The food was fabulous, nearly as impressive as the ambience.

We started with a salad of baby greens, dotted with candied pecans, bleu cheese crumbles, dried cranberries and a tossed with a light raspberry vinaigrette.

The main entree orders had been made in advance. We had the choice of prime rib, salmon, chicken or vegetable Napoleon. Barry and Lisa went for the beef. Jane and I shared the beef and the salmon.

The salmon was fine, with a subtle pesto sauce. But the prime rib was the clear star of the menu.

I’ve had prime rib in most fine dining places in the Springs, and the train’s chef, Jeremy Garnett, does it as well as any of them: a large, 14-ounce slab, perfectly medium rare, mostly pink, super tender and with a flavor you’ll remember for months afterward.

Dessert was a tower of mousse on a tiny puck of brownie.

Throughout our journey, Jonah dished out fun tidbits of history about the train and the route, but we were laughing and drinking and stuffing our faces too much to pay much attention, I’m afraid.

We cruised slowly back up to Cañon City and managed, thanks to our designated driver, to get back to the Springs in plenty of time to share another bottle of Champagne, a kiss with the love of my life and a phenomenal fireworks display from the AdAmAn club.

You know, this New Year’s thing isn’t so lame, after all. You just have to train for it.

Photo by ROYAL GORGE ROUTE RAILROAD