Like many kids, I had a train set when I was growing up. And like many kids, I didn’t appreciate just how lucky I was. The layout was permanently attached to a huge board and therefore had to live out in the garage. Every few months I would badger my long suffering Dad until he dragged it into the house and set it up for me. Once he’d devoted most of his weekend to getting it working, I would kneel in the center of the board and play with my toy cars, completely oblivious to the model train running around me. Truth be told, for all that I loved my train set, I was really more of an automobile man in those days. In time, my train set became just one more outgrown toy, forgotten and neglected, never to see the light of day.
It wasn’t until I was well into adulthood that I began to feel the lure of steam, the smell of grease and hot coals, and the haunting cry of the whistle late at night. Now that I was a grown up, I desperately wanted a train set.
The biggest problem was one of storage space. While my Dad had the right idea in mounting my childhood set on a board, storing it outdoors in a damp garage was no way to keep the tracks in smooth running order. They rusted horribly, which caused a marked decrease in the train’s performance even though he painstakingly sanded them clean as part of the set up. (I learned later, that this increased the tendency for the tracks to rust – there are better tools than sandpaper). I needed room not only for when the set was in use, but for storage when it was not. In my bachelor days, this was out of the question as I lived in a small apartment. After marriage, the size of the home increased slightly but being the male in the partnership, my share of the storage space dropped significantly. I was lucky to have enough closet room for my socks, much less a train set.
Our current house, while tiny by today’s standards, is (arguably) large enough for a modest set up, perhaps in one of the smaller scales. However, the next challenge is that Santa Claus has long since given up checking to see whether I’ve been naughty or nice and is simply assuming the former. At least I think that’s why he no longer responds to my repeated demands for consumer goods. Either way, my family, friends and workmates are long accustomed to my annual bleating that once again; I found no train set under the tree come Christmas morn.
Recently, a friend told me (probably in an attempt to shut me up) that a local model railroad club meets each Friday evening, in the basement of Denver’s Union Station to swap model train information and gawp at an elaborate layout permanently on display. While I’m well aware this might take me dangerously into ‘Star Trek’ style geek territory, it does sound like a good way to get my model train fix. Even better, Union Station is close to my office so the meeting would be simple enough to attend before going home from work. However, this is still a short-term solution – not the same as having a train set of one’s own.
The hard truth remains, that if I want a train set, I’m going to have to buy it myself. Or so I thought.
Last weekend I joined a bunch of friends for a social gathering at a local hostelry where to my surprise, I was ceremoniously presented with a large polystyrene box containing a second hand, but obviously well loved, toy train. 4 carriages, a station and a plastic bag full of track, realistic choo-choo noises and a light on the front. I was in heaven.
The only challenge was; I couldn’t get it to work.
The batteries live inside the coal tender; the lid of which completes the contacts. Sadly this had two broken snaps but the good news was; the manufacturers had thoughtfully backed them up with two tiny screws, thus assuring a tight fit. But one of those was missing. Replacing it proved, as visits to the hardware store always do, to be harder than I expected although with the help of an enthusiastic employee, I eventually found one that looked as though it would work. I nipped off the extra 1/8 inch with a hacksaw and I was in business. Or rather, I wasn’t. Even with both screws cinched down tight, the locomotive refused to do locomotive things.
Until later that evening, as I was forlornly fiddling with the lid of the coal tender and nearly had a heart attack when the locomotive suddenly came to life in my hands. With bell ringing and lights flashing, the wheels began to spin and I nearly lost the whole thing for good by dropping it on the kitchen floor. I’m no spring chicken and frights like that aren’t good for me. Turned out, one of the screws wasn't seated correctly and the contacts weren’t being made. It was the work of moments to correct that and in no time I had a working train set for the first time in 30 odd years. With the plastic track laid out on the living room floor I can scare the heck out of the dogs to my heart’s content.
Except now I’ve really got the bug and more than ever I want a proper train set. With electric power and a metal track, and hills and tunnels and a signal box and and and…
We were in town on Saturday afternoon so I persuaded Dear Wife to take me to a place called Caboose Hobbies which is basically a model train store on steroids. Apparently it’s the largest of its kind in the world and I spent a happy couple of hours wandering the aisles and lusting after all the model train related do-dads I’ll never be able to afford in a million years. Despite my whining, the big meanie refused to let me buy the set of my dreams, but she did allow that I could save a bit of cash from each month’s housekeeping until I have enough to pay for it outright. So, it will take a while but by next Christmas at least, I should be the proud owner of a working train set. Woo hoo!
I wonder if my Dad will come and set it up for me.
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