Steel Wheels on Steel Rails

I had the coolest recollection today:  We all went off for a bike ride and, while riding on the path which passes our local steam railroad museum, discovered they were offering rides on the miniature railroad today.  My son Evan immediately insisted we stop for a ride, which we did….3 times.

The trains today were pulled by diesel locomotives in miniature, 1.5 inches scale to the foot.  The one operates with a battery-powered electric motor similar to a golf cart.  The other was powered by a pull-start lawnmower engine.  Both were operated by a teenage engineer with a teenage conductor riding on the rear.  I’ll admit: I was reluctant to climb aboard.  It wasn’t the age of the operators.  It was the flatcar with the wooden plank running its length which one straddles as the only seating option. I wasn’t worried so much about falling from this I-beam perched just inches above the rail.  No, I was concerned my hips or knees may not function sufficiently after our short excursion to allow me back on my bike for the ride home.

I love trains and my son knows it.  Even so, I’m not the miniature train kind of guy and, in addition to the risks mentioned above, the 7½ inch gauge railroad didn’t really seem too terribly appealing to the part of me that likes trains.  But Evan is 4.  And while he can distinguish a diesel train from a steam train, like most four year olds, he doesn’t care if it’s big or little, plastic, metal or wood.  Thomas the Tank or the real deal—if it’s a train he likes it.  And so we climbed aboard.

I’ve ridden a few trains in my life: I rode subways every day in New York for the two months I lived there with my brother Dan.  Between the ages of about 10 and 15 Dan and I got to ride the streamliner from LA to our brother Art’s house in Riverside a half-dozen times or so. I rode a train a few times up through California to my sister Nan’s house in Oregon.  I was amazed and struck with delight when, today, riding as the reluctant passenger on that miniature railroad I was immediately able to call to mind every great ride I’d ever taken on a train—especially those from Los Angeles to Riverside riding the Union Pacific’s streamliner, City of Los Angeles, up in the dome car with commanding views of the train and the railroad, rapt with the enthusiasm only a child can possess.

Thinking about it now I believe there are two things which account for my experience: First, I could feel that little train pull.  It doesn’t rock one back like an accelerating vehicle, boat or airplane.  It’s the feeling of being pulled, like you’re sitting in a desk chair and someone is tugging you along; a friendly, firm, slow, steady force. The second is the audible and very textural feel of those little steel wheels rolling on steel rails. Small as it was, the wheels of that car rumbled beneath my feet and buns as I straddled that beam. The effect of those two sensations was to utterly transport me in time.  And suddenly it was sad and glorious that it had taken me this long to remember, but I did remember; and this long to share this wonderful experience, but I was, at that very moment, sharing it with Evan.  And the really good news is this:  I think he gets it!