First Post of 2021!

I did a little re-vamp of the site. Trying to better organize it so it looks a little more professional Still a ways to go, but we will get there! In the meantime, it's been a hot moment since I last updated things! And work on the W&A has been progressing steadfastly. 

Winter is here!

 

In the car department, several new pieces of rolling stock have been cranked out. We'll kick things off with a lovely cut of coal jennies. During the 19^th century the largest single commodity moved by rail, tonnage wise, was coal. The vast majority of it was shipped in 2 axle coal jennies, 4 axle wood truss hoppers, and gondolas (hopper bottom, drop bottom or solid bottom). They were a huge component of eastern railroads. So, getting a cut of coal jennies was essential. Especially for a project that I will talk about later. These cars are 3D printed in kit form and come in a pack of two. Assembly is quick and the cars pack a lot of detail. These sort of models are fine examples of what 3D printing an accomplish. 

I altered the models slightly by only having kadee couplers at the front and rear of the cut. Otherwise, they are chained together permanently in prototypical fashion. As of right now I have 16 of these little buggers. Making a fine cut. Although the prototype often moved them in cuts of 100+

I also apparently now collected Oppenheimer refrigerated cars. As a nice collection of these cars appeared on Ebay at a price that was too good to pass up! One of the cars was a nice wooden kit.I didn't build any of these, just merely added them to the collection. I gathered four of these cars, all of different heights and styles. I like that they all have unique profiles, makes them more interesting to have in a train. The firm of S. Oppenheimer & Company was started in 1868 in Chicago. The sausage casing distributor was started by Mr. Sigmund Oppenheimer, who emigrated from Mannheim, Germany in 1868 and flourished for nearly a century. 

Mmmmm....Bratwurst.

On the subject of refrigerated cars, the carshop cranked out this subject. This car started out life as a LaBelle Colorado Midland Hanaran reefer. But at the very start of the build, I tossed the instructions out and cut the car down to a 26 footer. From that point on enough material was introduced and the car design changed that I can sit back and firmly call this a scratch-bash. This one was a very lovely build and it got me to thinkin' (which could be dangerous). I hope to have a few more scratch-bashes in the future. Goodness knows I have plenty of kits waiting in the wings. 

The paintwork is purely fictitious. However I based it on lithographs of Hanaran cars, as well as a number of photos of Merchant's Dispatch cars. The Georgia Railroad lettering was simply to tie the car into the local. 

The stovejack means this car is a true summer and winter car. Being able to refrigerate produce that needed to stay cool in the summer. Then keep warm produce that was susceptible to freezing in winter. 

Also, on the subject of bashing. Here is a flat-top caboose built from a Walther's wooden drover's caboose. I had a 2-pack of these sitting around forever. One of which I long ago painted into W&A colors and has been a part of the active fleet for years. This one was sitting around...waiting for inspiration to strike. It went together surprisingly quickly! In two build sessions split across two nights after work I cut the car apart, pieced it back together, then painted, primed, and detailed it.

 

This went together far better then it had any right too. And I have another car from the same set waiting for a future project.

One of the big announcements from the car department is the arrival of passenger cars for a name train! I've long wanted to have a solid name-train for the W&A, and had looked at how I would go about acquiring cars for it. I had started with a set of Con-Cor cars for the coaches, and a few Roundhouse Overland cars to turn into sleepers. These were nice, but I wasn't really in love with any of the models. The Con-Cor cars were big and chunky and the Roundhouse Overland cars...well....they were everywhere and more of an amalgamation of prototype features then an actual model of any single prototype...also did I mention that they are everywhere! I also really wanted the cars of my name train to reflect back on the rollingstock first used at Disneyland in the 1950s. Otherwise known as the Retlaw 1 equipment. (Retlaw....nice one Walt. Took you all afternoon to come up with that one.) 

This all changed when a set of three brass old time coaches appeared on Yee Ol' Bay of E. Built by Samhongsa in 1981 and imported by Beaver Creak Models, this set had an RPO, a combine, and a coach. A single Observation car was also available as an add on and wouldn't you know...there was one of those available too! 

 

 

An RPO for the mail

A Combine for the luggage and passenger accommodation!

A coach, lavish and warm. Perfect for a day trip, yes sir!

 And bringing up the markers is a beautiful observation car. Yes sir, she's a fine and dandy train. 

So, after paying far more then I should have, these cars are now a part of the fleet and make up what will hopefully be my new first class name-train! Excuse me while I dip my credit card in a bucket of ice. 

So, remember that project I spoke about earlier? Well, at the very start of this blog, way back in the dark ages, I had started work on Marceline 1. The very first iteration of what would become my layout. This was a micro-layout designed to fit on a shelf. It got as far as benchwork when the decision was made to increase the size of Marceline so as to accept NMRA and then Free-mo module standards. This relegated the bench-work for that first layout to the dust bin. 

Or did it?

 The layout rose from the ashes as I decided to revisit the micro-layout idea while Marceline proper underwent some work at a friend's workshop. (More on that in a future post) Welcome to the town of Tumbleweed. The micro-layout focuses at the very end of a spur-line on the W&A. Spur serves one purpose. To reach the coal rich mines of the Big Thunder Mining Company's Davy Jones mine. The track plan is a relatively simple ‎Inglenook design. Cars go in empty, get switched around for loading, then go out loaded. Other traffic might be a boxcar of supplies or a flatcar loaded with timbers and lumber for the mine operations.

The mountainside was built from foam and covered with Sculpt-a-mold. Track-laying started gaining in December. I hope to have a full report on this project coming, as some exciting things have happened to push this project along.

Yes sir, things are moving!

 

The Little Red Caboose

Ah, the humble caboose. Always a fixture on the end of freight trains for more than a century. For most of the 19th century and the first few years of the 20th, most cabooses was the home for the conductor, at least one brakeman, and occasionally a flagman. The purpose was to provide a sheltered vantage point from which these trainmen could watch the cars ahead, cook and eat their meals, and where the conductor could attack an always growing stack of paperwork. Before the era of the automatic air brakes, the engineer signaled by whistle when he needed to slow down or stop. The rear end brakeman's job was to climb over the moving train and make his way forward, turning brake wheels that rose above the car roofs. The head-end brakeman, riding the engine, would work his way rearward. They did this regardless of the weather. (How would you like to be the tallest thing on a train running through a thunderstorm?) When the train finally stopped, the flagman detrained from the caboose and walked back a prescribed distance to signal approaching trains that a stopped train was ahead. Once underway again, the caboose (or "rear end") crew would sit up in the cupola and watch for smoke from overheated wheel journals (called hotboxes) or other signs of trouble.

The name may have originated with a French or Dutch word. Originally describing a deck cabin on a sailing ship. However, railroaders, always masters of language, called it by dozens of slang names: 

Cabin car, crummy, shack, way car, brainbox, shanty, hack and of course....bobber.  

 Bobber is a generic term for any short four-wheel caboose. Many mainline and short line railroads operated similar four wheel cars around the turn of the 20th Century, as they were easy to build, cheap, and easy to maintain. The car got its name from the way it would "bob" and weave down the track. Its tracking was so atrocious that several states enacted laws prohibiting the use of bobber cabooses (although by then the railroads had already stopped buying them). By 1900 most railroads opted for a caboose with two trucks and eight wheels, much to the relief of their crew's spinal columns.

 

I've always had a fondness for bobbers. At this point I've collected six of them. Earlier this year, the Ebay store  "The Train Shop" released a really neat bobber caboose kit that I couldn't ignore. It was modeled after the the DSP&PRR (Denver South Park Pacific)'s 3 foot gauge waycars. The carbody, frame, and all parts are printed with a high quality 3D printer. The kit comes with a full interior, including benches, a coal stove, conductor's desk, coal bin and a coal scoop. For those who enjoy adding lighting to their models, there are holes strategically placed throughout the interior for wiring purposes. There's even a tiny pad and pin sitting on the desk!

The kit arrived very well packed (see, mummified) in plastic wrap. In fact, the only complaint I had was a fear that while ripping the tape off the wrap, I would break the delicate parts. However, careful planning and patience freed the kit from it's imprisonment.  

The parts were cleaned in isopropyl alcohol and rinsed with soapy water. Then, they were painted. I broke from my previous traditions and painted the car an classic red.  The interior provided so much fodder for fun decorating. Being the home away from home, I chose to make the car both a workplace, but with little touches of comfort. From a carpet on the floor (To which the conductor must raise an eyebrow whenever a brakeman plods his dirty shoes into his caboose) to drapes in the window over the conductor's desk. To some more...risque posters hanging on the wall. (1880s pin ups were so scandalous...her ankles are showing!) 

Once the car was painted and the interior pieced together, it took little to put the whole kit together with a few spots of glue. Snap some wheels and Kadee scale couplers in place. Then the car is pretty much a finished product. I did add some additional detailing. Such as the emergency chain hung on hooks on one side, and the air hoses. I also replaced the kit's brake-wheel with my preferred tichy substitute. 

The car embodies that neat whimsical look that I admire. As a kit, it was well designed, easy to put together, and the end result is magnificent. I highly recommend this car to anyone interested in 3D printed resin models.

New Locomotive! The Jarla

A sweet eBay deal netted me a new locomotive. At any given time there's four or five Bachmann New Tool 4-4-0s on the 'Bay. Now and again one appears in a price range that I can not ignore. Such was the case for this one. The model started out life as a B&O 4-4-0 in the "Royal Blue" paint. 

I liked the Royal Blue colors, and decided to keep the basic color scheme, but "W&Aize" it. The result is a striking locomotive. The model was dull-coated to a matte finish, and a slew of detail parts were added atop the re-decaling. 

 

The name "Jarla" comes from 'The Sight' book series by David Clement-Davies. An ongoing source for names for my locomotives. I left the stock DCC/Sound chip in her for the moment. Although that might change as future finances allow. She's a sharp locomotive and will look good at the head of either a mail train, or a crack passinger train.

 Hmmm....might have to work on fixing up a few passenger cars now for her to haul. 

The Outlander (W&A Story)

October 1893, Marceline Georgia


The sound of a steam whistle, low and melodic, echoed from outside the building. To dreamers and wishers, it was an age old invitation to adventure, to others simply a wake up call.

The air in the pub was thick with the scent of cigar and cigarette smoke, a physical cloud visible hanging just below the tin plated ceiling and surrounding the gas light fixtures in a hazy veil. Standing behind the great oak bar, one would find a mid-20s lioness, scruffier than average with a short bang that fell between her ears. Vitani leaned back against the great wide mirror behind the bar. Looking over her little kingdom. Grabbing a damp washcloth she began cleaning the inside of a set of recently clean but still damp glasses, then setting them up on a rack hanging above the bar to fully dry. Taking a moment for her blue eyes to drift down as she examined herself in the looking glass. A habit she had gotten into just to be sure that she looked something akin to presentable. She rose a hand to gently brush out the breast of her white cotton shirtwaist. It fit snugly against her chest. It's fabric outlining the natural curves of her torso. The young lioness didn't particularly like her job, working the counter at the tavern which was aptly named “The Watering Hole,” it made her feel trapped. Constantly seeing the many faces and hearing the many stories told by the railroaders, teamsters, and farm laborers who frequented that particular dive had the effect of seeing the word run by while she stood in place. Yet she didn't fully dislike it either, the ends of her mouth turned up in a smile as she took a breath, then turned to face the inside of the counter.

The room was a great symphony of voices mixed with an orchestra of silverware and glassware from the crowd that occupied the popular pub. It was a small establishment, purposefully kept local and out of the way, its wood paneled and newspaper-wallpapered walls known mostly to railroad and steamboat men. Vitani's time was spent between the rush of lunch and dinner, and depending on the day of the week, the madness of the evening crowd.

Being a barmaid paid well and it meant that she did not have to deal with her overbearing mother. Unfortunately it did not pay enough for her to be able to strike out on her own, a fact which she greatly lamented. Vitani had come to hate life in the time-haunted old plantation she had grown up on. Born the middle child with a perfect younger brother and an unstable mess of an older brother she found her time working in town to be all her own. Getting away from her mother's snarls made working late nights at the counter worthwhile even if it meant she was filling glasses for an unruly gathering that catcalled her behind her back.

There were, however, other incentives. One of which she found was a bright beam of light on an otherwise gray existence.

“Hiya 'Tani!” A familiar male voice called, instantly drawing the lioness's attention. “Good to see you!”

With a sly smile and a roll of her eyes Vitani finished sorting the glasses, only then sauntering over to the lanky, scruffy mutt that had called her. “Hey Scamp, good to see you're back in town. The usual?”

Scamp's triangular ears flopped forward as he plopped himself down on a bar-stool. Vitani couldn't help but eye up the handsome mongrel. Countless men came to her bar, most of whom she was friends with and had no qualms about getting chatty. However there was something different about Scamp. Perhaps it was his seemingly eternal optimism? Although some, including the lioness, would call it foolishness. He reached into a pocket on his cotton shirt and quickly produced two coins which he slapped down on the hardwood counter-top. “Yep, two glasses if you will. Just got into town an hour ago, Angel is still down in the yard cleaning up so hold her's until she gets here,” He flashed a white toothed smile, “It was a rather slick trip, if I do say so myself.”

“Which way did you guys go?” The lioness grabbed two clean glasses off the rack, and ducked one under the fountain nozzle. Her thin tan tail whipped back and forth from the seat of her black rainy daisy skirt. “North or South?”

“South, to Atlanta,” Scamp spun around in the bar-stool and leaned back against the bar, placing the back of his arms on the counter-top. “Spent the night in a hostel, then back today. If I can I plan to not leave this bar-stool for the rest of the night.”

Vitani grinned, rolling her eyes playfully before placing a glass down next to the mongrel’s open hand. She couldn’t help but feel a slight upbeat at the handsome mutt’s presence. “You're welcome to it, be nicer company then most of the rats that pop in this late. Just try not to go all blotto on me.”

“No promises,” Scamp grabbed the glass and tilted his head back, taking a quick sip. “How are things since I've been gone? Going well with your folks?”

Vitani's ears flattened and her scowl told Scamp everything. The feline's tail whipped against the back of her legs as she let out a snort. Standing back, she put a hand on each of her nicely curving hips, while her long tail rigidly hung high. “Mother's doing her usual thing, wants me to find some nice male lion with dough so she can inherit something. I think Nuka's finally lost it from working in the plantation fields. He's convinced that the mansion is haunted and claims that spirits are following him around and causing mischief. Honestly, the guy is clumsier then a bull in a china shop and I'm pretty sure he's bringing it all upon himself.” She wrinkled her nose and gave her head a little shake. “So yeah, I think I'd rather spend my time in town.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re here,” Scamp's ears flicked forward and he gave her a cheesy grin from over his shoulder. Vitani could hear his tail whipping against the back of the bar. “If nothing else, it’s nice to come back to a cool drink and a warm face,”

“Good to know I’m appreciated! Especially by someone who is willing to put up with frequenting this dump to do such.” The lioness crossed her arms over her chest and smiled, it was so hard to not admire that cute puppy face. “So, how was your trip?”

Scamp huffed, blowing his wandering bang out from in front of his face. “It went pretty well until Mom gave Angel the throttle. Just for practice you know.”

“Right, Angel has been talking about wanting to move onto engine crew at some point.” The lioness felt a slight hint of jealousy about the idea that Angel was starting to forge a better life for herself.

Scamp’s tail began to wag against the barstool. “Well, she brought the train into the yard all stretched out, set up the brakes and brought the head end to a stop. Apparently she looked at my mom and said 'Wow, I got that stopped like a pro!' and then WHAM!” With a wide grin plastered on his face the mongrel held his hands out and gave an almighty clap, mimicking the railcar couplers bunching up. “The slack rolled in and banged the locomotive so hard it tossed Angel out of the engineer’s seat. My parents were not amused.”

The lioness chuckled. Scamp had a way of showing such expression. He was so outgoing, far removed from those she usually had to associate with. From outside came the low wail of a steam whistle. The Watering Hole was located close enough to the railroad yard that it wasn't uncommon to hear the goings on from the bar. Vitani had actually worked long enough to start recognizing the individual whistles. “So, if Angel is moving up to the cab are you planning on changing ends of the train too?”

Scamp arched an eyebrow, his head tilted as if he was thinking, making one floppy ear stand up at an odd angle. “Nah, I don't think so. I like being a conductor, the money's swell and I like being in charge of the train,” He rubbed a hand on his chest and that toothy grin was back. “Did you know the conductor is actually fully in charge of the train?”

“Mmmm, is that so?” Vitani wasn't sure why, but she was blushing badly under her fur.

“Yes, indeed. It's not a job just anyone can handle, lot's of responsibility that falls on my shoulders.”

“Yeah, responsibility that you like to skirt. Right tenderfoot?”

His big ears swiveled back as Angel sauntered up to the bar. Vitani flicked one ear at the sound of Scamp's nervous laugh, despite her words, Angel’s fluffy tail was wagging playfully front the seat of her brown trousers. As she slid into the barstool next to Scamp she plopped a small notebook on the bartop. Vitani couldn't help but notice a smudge of coal dust on the blonde furred dog's cheek. No doubt a small trinket from being tossed from the engineer's seat.

“Hiyah Angel, just you know...talking shop.” The young mongrel tried some spin control however little seemed to pass Angel. Vitani turned away to fetch the two ordered glasses, but kept an eye on her two customers. She felt herself deflate slightly at Angel's presence.

“Yeah, well maybe next time you'll take responsibility and do the car count instead of leaving it to me. After-all,” She fluttered her eyelashes. “You are the conductor, the big dog in the caboose.”

“But Angel, I figured you would need to walk the train anyway. If nothing else just to be sure you didn't smash any couplers on that roll in you did. ”Angel rolled her eyes and playfully shoved Scamp hard, sending him almost falling out of the barstool.

The two railroaders laughed as Scamp pulled himself back upright. The lioness secretly loved watching the pair. Even though they were always picking on each other everyone knew that the two railroaders were very much in love. Vitani couldn't help but feel a slight envy at the chemistry they seemed to have. She had no interest in such grungy and hard work as that of the railroad. Yet it seemed like Scamp and Angel were a glow of light and warmth set before such a harsh world. Her envy though, seemed to be more towards one member of the duo than the other. As she returned with two glasses full of refreshing hard drink she silently wished she had someone like that in her own life. It would make dealing with her mother and her family far more bearable.

"Oh, Scamp, when will you learn?" She asked as she placed the glass in front of him.

Angel burst out with a gruff and happy, “Oh, I don't think he'll change anytime soon. Either way, he'll always be my tenderfoot!"

The handsome gray mongrel nodded in agreement, bringing the glass back to his lips. As much as she wished she could stay and spend time with these two the lioness could see another customer finishing his glass, while yet another saddled up on another barstool. She sighed, her maw wrinkling and ears flicking back. It was going to be another long day.


*********

The sun had long vanished from behind the Appalachian range that ringed the town of Marceline when Vitani started her way home. Flipping the sign on the front door to 'closed' she plucked a fob-watch, sans chain, from her breast pocket and sighed. Another day wasted behind the bar counter and not much to look forward to on the return home. Brushing off her weather-beaten skirt and blouse the lioness started to silently plod down the sidewalk, her eyes drifting down to the cobblestones. A cool wind fluttered her skirt and pulled on the fur of her tail. A recent rainfall had left puddles in the street and long lines of standing water in the gutters. Turning the dirt roads into a surge of mud and muck. Reflecting back the glow of the gas-streetlamps.

She had long known that she had a crush on him, just his happy outlook on life and his seemingly bottomless level of optimism drew her to him. These were two things Vitani felt she needed more of in her life however he was happily with another girl. A fellow dog who seemed to match him in every way possible. The lioness had no reason to openly dislike Angel, other then the fact that she was with Scamp. They were a cute couple and the three had been friends, or at least acquaintances, for a long enough time that she felt reprehensible for her developing affections.

Her ears perked up, and her eyes glanced up as the wail of a steam whistle reached her ears. She wasn't far from the W&A RR's yards. Lonesome and melodic, it sounded like a cry from somewhere in her heart and for a moment the very ends of her mouth turned up as she imagined that it was Scamp, calling out into the night for her. The town was closing up for the night, other then the railyard and the distant clopping of the occasional horse-drawn wagon echoing down some distant street one could be forgiven for thinking that Marceline was abandoned.

“Shit, I have it bad,” the lioness tiredly whispered to herself. Admitting openly for the first time that something was happening her mind was so preoccupied that she misjudged the drop from the sidewalk to the muddy street. Her foot twisted and her eyes burst open as her leg turned out from underneath her. Vitani stumbled forward, throwing out her hands to keep from falling completely into the mud. She landed on her side, hands sinking into the muck as she fell to the street.

“Oh, for god's sake,” Vitani moaned, laying sprawled out in the gutter. Mud splattered on her skirt and blouse. Looking down at her leg she found that one of her heels had snapped, the old worn material giving way to leave her muddy and unbalanced for the rest of the way home. It was enough to break the poor girl's heart; her lower lip trembled as she balled her fists up and did her best to keep from roaring out in anger. She could no longer keep her head up, her shoulder sagging in defeat and dropping her head down. Her eyes fluttered shut as she lay prone in the gutter.

But she would not remain that way for long as a dark skinned, slender-as-toothpicks, very human hand slid under Vitani's chin and slowly forced her head to rise up. She saw no eyes as they were covered by the rim of a black and red hat, only a roguish grin with a thin black mustache welcoming her.

“Looks like you could use a hand there 'darlin'.” Those were the hauntingly friendly words that hummed out through this sinister smile, "How'ya doin'?"

Vitani instantly recoiled. Eyes narrowed and teeth set, she whipped her head out from his grasp and scrambled back in the mud, a dirty hand fumbling into her blouse for a blade she tended to keep there. The man stepped back, holding his hands up for her to see that they were indeed empty. That smile, sharp and thin, never wavered.

“Now hold up there little one, no cause for alarm. Allow me, if you please, Miss Vitani,” He plopped the hat back atop his head, then extended a hand for her to grab.

Vitani's expression turned to one of shock. “How did you know my...”

“Your name? Why sweetie, it's all in the cards.” In the glow of the street lamp's flickering flames, the man cast a long shadow against the brick building facade. Vitani hesitantly slipped a hand into his, and allowed him to pull her out of the puddle. She quickly discovered that he was a lot stronger then he initially appeared. Once she was upright, and attempting to wipe the muck off her blouse and skirt the man pulled his top hat off in a greeting, revealing the square-shaped hair-style of his.

“Excuse me?” The lioness started to back away, her steps uneven due to her broken shoe heel.

“The Cards, the Cards. The Cards will tell...” He laughed, with a roll of a hand, soon, a set of tarot cards were in his hand, all the suites and Arcana visible as he fanned them out perfectly, before closing again, to which they vanished. Another roll of his hand and a new card appeared. “Allow me to introduce myself, here's my card.”

Taking the card and looking it over Vitani read it out loud, an eyebrow raising as she took in it's odd wording. “Dr. Facilier, Tarot Readings, Charms, Potions...” Looking up from the card she saw from the corner of her eyes the dark form of his shadow behind her, the way it moved odd to the lioness's own motions. "Dreams made real... I must say I'm skeptical.”

Dr. Facilier chuckled, curiosity killed the cat. Leaning on his cane, he looked to Vitani with a gaunt grin. "Yes ma'am, my power is unmatched for miles! I can see your future, change it around some too and I can see you have a dream for sure. One that perhaps I can help you abide to.”

Vitani pressed the card back at the man then stumbled past him with a roll of her eyes. “Yeah, I don't think so.”

“You don't think you deserve him?” His voice stopped the girl in her tracks as she turned her head to look back at the strange man from over her own shoulder. “There is nothing wrong with desiring the company of someone your heart yearns for, especially when life can be, well, less then pleasurable.”

Vitani opened her mouth to retort when the evening air was split by the shriek of a steam whistle. The way it blew, with such a lonesome wail her mind made it out to be Scamp's train, calling to her in a voice that used no words. The lioness closed her eyes and took a deep breath, her nostrils flaring while the card somehow found it's way into a pocket. “Dreams...made true?”

The Shadow Man nodded ominously. “Mmmhmm. What's his name, if I may be so bold?”

“Scamp,” His name fell from her lips as a tender whisper, her head bowing to cast her gaze at the sidewalk. “He's just, such a nice guy. Goofy! But...well...”

His movement was oddly quick, suddenly putting an arm around her. "Say no more. Why, with a little encouragement my dear..." he promised, tapping her chest with the head of his cane. Almost instantly his shadow shifted from his feet, grinning devilishly as it rubbed its thin fingers together. "Ain' nothin I can't do, with the right connections! All it takes is the right price."

“I don't have much money,” Vitani started to say.

“Leave that to me,” The Shadow Man whispered before giving his cane a spin, and bringing it down on the ground. In an explosion of purple smoke and light Dr. Facilier's shadow seemed to swirl around the glow of light from the nearby street lamp, protracted onto the brick wall of a building facade. Vitani's head whipped side to side, peering up and down the deserted street to see if there was any other witnesses to what seemed to be occuring.

“Don't be alarmed, parlor tricks, my sweet feline friend,” The man laughed. “But, like a good magician, their secrets are not to be told. Now then, let's look at the cards, shall we.”

With one arm wrapped around her shoulders, he held her close, his hand before her face suddenly had three cards between its thin fingers. The center one was flipped around with a twist of those digits, the image on its front showing a very stylized heart with a sword through it.

“Ah, love. So sweet and innocent,” the man began. The right hand card turned and to the lioness's bewilderment showed a portrait of the smile tousled face and floppy ears of Scamp. This had to be magic, either that or some crazy fluke. Regardless, she saw the pup she admired in those chocolate eyes, no matter if it was intended or not.

“Scamp...” Vitani whispered again, feeling emotions well up in her chest.

“He would be perfect for you miss. Such strong features and healthy spirit, oh the good it would do to have him in your life...oh, but what's this?” The final card turned, its image being that of a set of lovers, hand in hand. “Why, it would would seem that he's already spoken for. Someone else stands in your way! A jezebel incarnate!”

“Her name is Angel,” The lioness admitted, feeling all resistance to admitting the truth slip away. “She's his girl, she has been for as long as I've known them.”

“So he needs a nudge, I think I have just the thing,” The cards vanished with a fold of his hand. In their place, his fingers unfolded to reveal a small glass vial. Vitani's eyes widened and her ears flattened back, her long tail flicking back and forth behind her legs. The vial seemed full of a pink liquid that gave off a similarly colored glow, the vial had a cork in it's flute and it's glass surface was etched with strange runes. “Just a few drops of this and your face will be all he will be able to think about.”

Vitani felt her heart in her throat as he slipped the vial into her hands and closed her fingers around it, letting go of her and stepping back. It felt so light, as if she was holding nothing at all, yet she could feel it pulsating with heat. “Just a few drops?”

“Just a few,” His shadow mimicked chugging down a glass on the wall behind them, “And he'll be all yours.”

“Wait! What about Angel? Surely he won't just forget about her?”

“Hmm, well....don't worry about her.” His grin split his face and sent a shiver down the lioness' spine. On the brick and glass facade of the closed store, in the glowing orb of light cast from the streetlamp, the shadows began to swirl and morph. Creatures slithering along the very edge while in the center formed a remarkable shadow silhouette of a particular female dog. Vitani recognized the folded ear and curly tail. The figures danced around the shadow dog, pointing and jeering without noise while the ghostly Pomeranian stood stock still, as if trapped and bound in place. “Magic is never free however nothing says someone else can't foot that bill...”

The shadows swirled, curling around 'Angel' like a serpent till only her head, screaming silently was visible. Vitani's heart skipped a beat as the edges of the circle of light closed down atop the phantasmal image of her romantic rival like the closing jaws of some great beast.

“Wait, this won't hurt her?” Vitani's tail whipped around one of her own legs as she took a step forward, stumbling slightly on her missing heel.

The Shadow man gave an exasperated gasp, dramatically planting a hand against his chest. “Ma'am, you offend me. Of course, nothing will come of Miss Angel.”

Vitani couldn't see the laughing shadow behind her back. She looked down at her hand, where the cracks between her fingers pulsed with pink light. “Scamp...”

“Will. Be. Yours,” The Shadow Man's smirk never died. “C'mon, don't you think you deserve that? Someone in this world who actually cares about you and will give you something to live for. A bright spark in an otherwise dull life, sandwiched between an insane mother and a retarded brother...Vitani, this is all for you.”

“All. For. You.”

Her hand slowly released it's grip and the vial seemed to call with the song of a siren. Her own eyes glowed with the same deep pink hue, throbbing in time to the vial and it's strange brew. It would be so easy. Then, just as if a gust of wind blew past her, she felt her skirt rustle and the light from the gas streetlamp flickered. Looking up from the vial, breaking whatever spell it seemed to hold, she saw that the strange man had vanished. Vitani's heart was by now thundering in her chest, her ears perked and she whipped her head one way then the other, the tuft of fur between her ears flopping as she did. The street was deserted, only her own footprints in the mud could be seen. It was as if he had never been there to began with, only his final three words echoed about her skull.

She quickly dropped the vial into the breast pocket of her blouse right next to his card. It would be a long walk home and on a broken shoe no less. Taking a deep breath to settle her nerves, she pulled her skirt up so that it wouldn't drag and catch her foot and started her way home. The clouds moved from in front of the moon and their shadows seemed to creep along the building fronts and streets making Vitani feel all the more as if she was being watched by many eyes. She could feel the heat from the vial palpitating against her chest.

******************



The reflection that looked up from the polished bartop showed a level of fatigue that matched the churning inner realms of Vitani's gut. Drawing her rag over the surface, distorting the reflection, the lioness let out a soft grunt. Returning home the previous night she had dropped the vial into a drawer in her room, trying to put it out of her sight and out of her mind. All night, the lioness tossed and turned in her lonely bedroom, it was as if the vial called to her with a silent siren's song. It would be so easy to just let a few drops into Scamp's drink the next time the mongrel came by the Watering Hole. Angel would be fine, she was a strong canine and would support Scamp no matter what choices he made.

Even if those choices were not his own.

What would happen to Angel afterwards? The Shadow Man's words rang around the cat's head...what was the price Angel would be forced to pay? The same loneliness that haunted Vitani? That was something Angel could have! Or, was there something more? The vial seemed so unnatural. By morning's light, she grabbed the vial without thinking and quickly washed up for her first shift. The scent of cigars and cigarettes seemed thicker then usual, and the young lioness felt seemingly more aware of the shadows that filled the corners of her bar.

“You look like death rolled over,” A familiar voice snapped Vitani out of her string of thoughts. The lioness looked up, her ears flicking back and a hand drifting to the back of her head to rub her fingers down her own neck nervously.

“Oh, uh, hello Angel,” Her throat was raw and she could practically feel the trepidation rising in her chest.

Angel sat bent over at the bar, one arm laying causally across the counter top. Her head was tilted, making one floppy ear stand up at an odd angle while an eyebrow rose. It seemed the dog could see something was off. “Wow, anything I could do to help?”

“Oh, it's nothing,” Vitani brushed it off. Pulling herself up and quickly swallowing, her eyes darting around the blonde furred railroader, looking for the very soul she was dreading seeing the most. “Where's Scamp?”

Angel shot her friend a questioning look but answered anyway. “Still in the yard. He'll be here soon, we have a small rest before we set out on a coal train this afternoon.”

Vitani gulped and her heart skipped a beat as she clearly saw the shadows start to grow from the corners of the building behind the dog, slowly spreading from the corners of the windows and above the door. The lioness' ears perked as she wondered if anyone else could see them, or if she alone was to bear witness. The vial sat in her pocket, seeming like it grew heavier every passing second. “Oh, well can I get you anything while you wait?”

“Yeah, my usual,” Angel rapped her fingers on the bartop, her curly tail giving great swooshes side to side above the seat of her pants. “In fact, pour a glass for Tenderfoot!”

The lioness' heat skipped a beat. A glass for Scamp? The vial felt like it resonated a pulse that echoed through the girl, she wasn't sure if that was real or if she had just imagined it. Vitani put her back to the Pomeranian as she reached over the back counter for the glasses that hung over the great mirror. Seeing beyond her own reflection and the look of fatigue that seemed etched into her thick feline muzzle, her throat became dry as she could see the shadows behind Angel stretchering towards the unsuspecting dog. “S-sure, coming right up” she stuttered.

Two glasses were pulled off the rack, set down on the counter with a soft “clink”.

“So, you and Scamp. You guys have known each other for a while?”

Angel's ears perked up and the dog let out a soft chuckle and playfully rolled her eyes. “Yeah, you could say that.”

“But you had a life...before him? Right?” The cork was removed from a bottle.

“Oh sure. When I first met him he was this little mutt who spoke endlessly about adventure and being a wild soul and traveling the world.” The end of Angel's mouth cocked up in a sly smirk. “He tried so hard, it was beyond adorable.”

“I can imagine that,” The very tip of Vitani's tail flicked back and forth as the girl shifted her weight from one leg to the other. A hand reached for the vial, tucked away, was she really going to do this? “So, and forgive me from asking...but could you go back to that life? Without Scamp?”

Angel's big, floppy ears went backwards for a split second at the abruptness of the question but she perked them back up. “I've, well, never thought about that. He's just such a part of my life. Why?”

The lioness started to pour the two drinks with one hand while the other had it's fingers wrapped around the vial. If she was going to do this it would have to be slick. With her back to Angel, the blonde furred railroader couldn't see what the lioness was up to while Vitani had a full view thanks to the mirror of both herself and her victim. “Just, you two seem like you work so well together.”

Angel had an eyebrow raised in her direction now, clearly wondering where all this was leading towards. One end of her mouth tipped up in a slight smirk as she reached out with a guess.

“You like someone, don't you?”

It was like she was hit with lightning, the sudden jolt that rippled through her body caused Vitani's hand to shake spilling a small amount of drink on the counter. The feline looked over her shoulder, the look in her eyes saying everything.

Angel was quiet for a while the sounds of the bar's few patrons becoming faded background noise. Barely registering. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft.

"I see everything in him, he's my entire world," Her blue eyes were sparkling while the weak sun caught her fur through the dirty window, making it shine a bright and beautiful gold. The shadows that swirled around the back-wall seemed to retreat at that. "He saved me from the streets, I couldn't imagine anyone I would want to be with more." She went on warmly.

“Saved you?” One of Vitani's ears perked in interest, the vial held tightly between her fingers as she slipped it out of her pocket. The lioness realized that for as long as she had known the two railroaders she had never once asked about their past. “That bad, huh?”

“You wouldn't believe it,” Angel motioned with her hand. “Let's just say that I was not in a good place. Scamp found me and I found him. Together, we found the railroad, we found a future.”

Vitani could feel her heart pounding in her chest and she looked down at the vial, its substance seeming to pulsate in time to her heartbeat. She wanted Scamp, oh how badly she wanted him. To be saved herself, much like Angel had been.

All it would take was one drop.

Her thumb passed over the cork in the lid, pressing up till the cork popped free. Looking up into the mirror, the lioness gazed at her own reflection, holding the vial over the glass she intended to give to the mutt. Behind her sat Angel, casually tapping a finger against the rough wood of the bar top unaware of the shadows that crept towards her figure from behind. Could she even see them? Or where the specters Vitani's personal hell?

“That's what I want,” Vitani's voice was low and wistful so that one she could hear, her head bowed slightly. “A future...”

“So, who is he?” Angel's voice, upbeat at the prospect of hearing some news, cut through the lioness's thoughts like an arrow. “Is he one of our railroaders?”

She put the vial down on the counter-top and turned around to face Angel, planting a hand on the counter to each side and leaning back. The shadows appeared like arms, fingers outstretched over Angel's head. She couldn't do this, could she?

“Do I know him?” Angel's voice was innocent.

The lioness opened her mouth to answer when a familiar tousled maw appeared behind Angel. The shadowy spectators retreated back into their corners. The pom looked over her shoulder at him as he slid up to the counter, a big goofy smile plastered across his face. Vitani felt her heart sink at the sight of him. From those warm brown eyes to that bang that fell between her ears, she just felt a natural attraction. The vial behind her seemed to cast a heat into her chest from the base of her tail on up.

“Hey 'Tani! Angel. What's up?” Scamp yipped as he plopped down on a bar-stool. Vitani felt sick at the fact he mentioned her first.

“Fashionably late as always, eh Tenderfoot?” Angel reached out and gave a playful tug on Scamp's sleeve. “Had you been any later I would have taken your drink for myself.”

“Hey, I was late cleaning up your mess Miss Engineer-in-training. You know how much sand you threw on the ground getting that cut of cars moving? I had to help hand buckets up to load that dome again,”

Angel visibly blushed causing Vitani's heartbeat to pick up instantly. She wondered if Scamp's ears could detect the sound she was sure it was making. On the wall behind the lovebird pups the shadows showed two silhouettes, one of Scamp the other of Vitani. Sitting side by side, arm in arm.

“Well, perhaps I should buy your first round them, provided we don't distract Vitani any more then we already have.” Angel playfully rolled her eyes.

“Right, I'm on that,” Vitani blurted out before swiftly spinning back around.

She grasped the vial in her shaking fingers, looking at it's patterned glass and the liquid it held. There was Scamp's glass. There was Scamp. One drop and she and he would be together. Did it work instantly? Would she have to explain to Angel why her boyfriend suddenly got affectionate to her? What would happen to Angel? At this point Vitani was sure that whatever the price to pay was, Angel would suffer. Emotionally for sure...and perhaps worse. Those shadows seemingly spiraling on the walls and in her head were pushing her, telling her it was alright. They might have been real, or figments of her imagination however their actions certainly drove her. Making her hand slowly move the vial over the glass.

One drop, just one drop.


*****************


“See you later 'Tani!” Scamp gave a smile and a wave of his hand and he and Angel passed through the door to the pub.

The sun was starting to drop and as the door closed behind them the lioness could see them through the big window as Angel slipped an arm though Scamp's, leaning her head to rest on his shoulder. The two were off into the evening. Off to wherever it was that railroaders went when they waited on their next assignment. In so many ways it was like Scamp and Angel both gained their wishes. Angel got her rescuer, Scamp his adventure. Both facing life together while Vitani faced it alone.

The lioness took a deep breath, there were still some customers in the dining room however she couldn't really focus on them at the moment. Instead, she dropped her towel on the counter and swung around to walk through the door that led to the kitchen. As soon as the door shut behind her, it was like a flood of shadows suddenly swirled around the room.

“STOP IT!” The lion screeched, waving her arms in the air, attempting to disperse them. They flew to the far corners of the room and she reached for a door that led out back to the ally behind the pub.

If the shadows inside had been bad, outside in the setting sun it was worse. The alley may have been empty, aside from the number of casks, crates, and garbage bins that lay scattered around its stone slabbed avenue. Looking around the dark alley Vitani felt as if the great shadows looked down from the buildings, glaring at her, waiting for something. Glancing up she scowled and opened her arms as if to say 'now what'. Reaching into the pocket in her shirtwaist she pulled the vial out, instantly her face was lit by the ebbing pink glow as she held it up. She felt her face drop slightly as she took in it's phosphorus glow.

She couldn't do it, as much as she wanted to she just couldn't. Angel did not deserve whatever fate would have awaited her and if Scamp was to become attracted to her, then she wanted him to do it under his own volition. Not one that was created by a cursed object. Vitani took a deep breath, settling her nerves. Dropping to a knee, she leaned over and gently placed the vial on the stone pavement.

For a few seconds, she sat there, on one knee as if she was proposing, looking at the strange vial and the pink ripples of light it cast on the damp stone of the alley-floor. She rolled her lower lip and softly bit it, her tail curled around a leg. She could try again, just lay in wait until she had enough courage.

As soon as that very thought crossed her mind Vitani stood up, her shoulders steady and a determined look on her face. She raided a foot, and the heel was pressed against the vial with a sharp 'tink' of glass. The lioness closed her eyes and felt her heart swell, the corners of her eyes growing moist as she recognized that her only sure fire chance was about to be scattered. With a shift of her weight, she heard the vial crunch before her foot sank down suddenly.

It was like a great wave washed through her body, Vitani kept her eyes clamped shut feeling energy surge through her body. She didn't know what was real and what was imaginary or what forces she had unleashed. Her back arched, and her arms felt as if they where pushed up as if she was falling into a body of water. The rush of air moaned as if a thousand voices called out and where suddenly silenced.

With a great exhalation of air Vitani's eyes snapped open and her mouth dropped in a wide “O”. She was alone in the alley other than the shards of broken glass underneath her foot. There was no sign of the substance inside the vial or anything out of the ordinary. Her eyes slowly passed around the brick and wooden walls that made up the urban valley she stood in. The long shadows of the end of the day were steady and still, no figures danced and no eyes glared down at her. Just the final rays of the day slowly retreating.

A hand absentmindedly rose up and down an arm and one ear slipped down. It was as if an immense weight had been released from her while a small smile lifted the ends of the feline's mouth. She wrinkled her nose while she gave her head a little shake. Hands coming up to rub at her eyes removed any remaining traces of wetness from the corners of her eyes and cheeks.

Taking one final deep breath and a sigh of content, Vitani spun on her heels and passed through the rear door of the Watering Hole. Her shift would end soon and she had a long walk home. Leaving behind a few traces of broken glass and gaining a resolve to bring change in her own way, and her own time.

Somewhere, not far away, a steam whistle blew.

The End 

Rail Moment: The First Train on the W&A

It was Christmas Eve in 1842, when a locomotive and a single car pulled out of the city of Atlanta on the first historic journey of the state-owned Western & Atlantic Railroad. The locomotive on that historic journey was named the Florida and was on her second life. Having been purchased second hand earlier that month. Standing firmly at the throttle in a coat and tophat, no doubt dusted in embers, was Mr. William F. Adair. Who the fireman was in unknown, although some sources indicate the man chucking wood was a Mr. Jim Rustin.

The Western & Atlantic was, on paper, a functioning railroad. Although it would be another three years before some real semblance of regular operations would began. For starters, a great big hole existed on the map...or really, the lack of one. But for those riding out of Atlanta on that misty day, they were as much explorers as Jason and his Argonauts. One passenger on this maiden voyage wrote of Atlanta; “The place appears to be well selected for the connecting of other roads with it,” the letter writer also noted that “…There is some magnificent scenery along this State Road, natural as well as artificial. To see a steam car walking like ‘a thing of life,’ through these mountains, and over rivers and creeks and ravines, is grand to look upon.”
 

The locomotive at the head of this train, the Florida, was built by Matthias Baldwin in 1837. She was of the 4-2-0 design, with a haystack firebox and large balloon stack for burning cord-wood. She initially served on the Georgia Railroad and Banking Company. When the Western & Atlantic needed motive power for their line, they purchased the little steamer. She entered service on the latter in December 1842. Of course, things couldn't be that simple. There was a little problem in that there was no way to relocate the locomotive to Atlanta by rail. The Georgia Railroad itself having yet to reach Atlanta. So, The Georgia Road ran her to their terminus in Madison, Georgia. There, workers dissembled the locomotive and loaded her on a cart. Where in a scene from Gulliver's Travels, a team of 16 mules hauled her to Atlanta where she could enter service on the Western & Atlantic.

The "Florida" and the "Alabama" were similarly arranged.

When the train reached the wooden bridge over the Chattahoochee River, it stopped. Passengers disembarked because they feared the bridge, which was a mad affair that seemed to be made of spider's silk then firm timbers, would not support the train. They walked across the trestle; and took watch on the far bank, some expecting to see the Florida take a drink and Mr. Adair get some swim practice. Yet the locomotive glided across “like a being of the clouds,” a letter writer to a local newspaper recalled in February 1843. The bridge held, and the iron scamp's adventure continued.

A gentle mist fell as the train pulled out of Dalton, Georgia, en route for Tunnel Hill. It must be noted that on these early journeys, the very act of riding on a train was itself spellbinding. It would be a while before the spell wore off and passengers would request some basic comforts...like seats. It's unknown if the single car hitched to the tender of the Florida was even a coach. Some indications are that it was either a boxcar, or an open flatcar with men and women clinging to it for dear like like some perverted Aladdin's carpet.

When the train reached Tunnel Hill, passengers discovered the great gap in the map. It would be another five months before the Tunnel through Chetoogeta Mountain would be ready for travel. However, like proper Victorians who are enamored by things like a half dug hole in the earth, those gathered spent an hour exploring the “wonderful structure and passing through its entire length,” as a correspondent for the Daily Constitutionalist of Augusta, Ga., wrote of the event.

They ostensibly boarded a second train on the other side of the gap. At the head of this train huffed another Baldwin-built 4-2-0, the Alabama. This locomotive was built in 1838 and entered service on the State Road in September of 1845. She was used primarily in construction on the other side of the tunnel, having been shipped in pieces up the Tennessee River. By the 1850 report, however, the Alabama was used for ditching and was running out her final miles. She was abandoned by the latter half of 1852, according to records.

Before too long, the locomotive Alabama began steaming toward Chattanooga with Jon. G. Eckman at the throttle. With much wheel-slip, and throwing of sparks and thick clouds of wood smoke, the train passed through the rainy North Georgia countryside and slipped like a apocalyptic horse into the little town of Ringgold. There people like Col. Edward R. Harden, editor of the Ringgold Republican newspaper joined the cavalcade.

He wrote: “Here too, additional passengers crowded on the cars, and no room was left for the vast multitudes who, in despite of the rain, thronged the wayside to enjoy the ride and witness the ceremonies about to be solemnized at the opening of the Road to Chattanooga,”

The atmosphere on the train became rather party like. From somewhere bottles and flasks appeared, and not even the cool chill of the rain could dampen the heat of the dancing mosh-pit riding the flatcar behind the Alabama. The close quarters allowing an excusable amount of brushing of both male and female instigation. Someone's ankles may have even been exposed! No longer concerned for their safety and perhaps in need of a cold bath, “Every bridge that was passed called forth expressions of admiration and loud cheering,” Mr. Harden reported. “Upon passing the last bridge, the ladies joined in cheering, and the welkin rang with loud applause.”

At noon, the train pulled into Chattanooga, with more than 300 people somehow clinging to locomotive and cars alike. Once the Alabama shook of her infestation of liquored humans, the group then made its way to the Tennessee River to participate in the Victorian tradition of long self congratulatory speeches. Including one by Mark A. Cooper, a prominent industrialist whose smelters along the Etowah River were just starting to fire off, and William L. Mitchell, the chief engineer of the Western & Atlantic. During his speech, Long ceremoniously mixed water from South Carolina, Georgia and Tennessee in a symbol of unity.

The riders gave three cheers for the Western & Atlantic. It would be five months before the railroad officially opened, but on that chill Christmas Eve, what would become the State Road of Georgia hiccuped into life.

As for the Florida, By the end of the decade, the locomotive was used more sparingly. Between 1847 and 1848, she was used for passenger service, but only reported 8,800 miles in service. In the 1848 report, she was listed simply as “laid up”. She then saw no miles in service between 1848, and 1849, and was similarly listed as “laid up for repairs” in the 1849 report.

By the 1850 report, the old Florida was listed as 'on the road in complete order,' yet she saw just 926 miles in service between 1849, and 1850. She returned to the shop in 1851, 1852, 1854 and 1857. She was listed as 'condemned' in 1858 and 1859 and 'worn out' in 1860. Where she vanished from the records and into railroad history.

Quarantine Project Boxcars

While under lockdown, I attempted to use my suddenly available time productively. I was able to land a number of Central Valley, Labelle, and Roundhouse/MDC kits. The CV and Labelle kits were craftsmen wood kits, while the Roundhouse/MDC kits were plastic and diecast. Sitting down, I started assembling these kits one by one, and in about a month, I had a nice fleet of new cars ready to enter service.

An Xacto knife and sandpaper is all you really need to put any of these kits together. The NWSL Chopper is nice, but not essential. I never used a miter saw for any of these. To help with the roof ends I made a carstock template to guide my carving efforts. One can make one from just a piece of heavy cardboard, or plywood, or Masonite, with the desired curve cut into it for the cutting blade. Use of a template helps to get both ends to look the same. Take it slow and frequently compare it to the provided documentation and you'll be OK. The worst that can happen is that you'll may end up building another piece of roof stock from leftover supplies on hand. (Don't ask me how I know that. Just know that I do.) Prototype wooden roofs were covered with a layer of canvas and then coated with tar. So, any mistakes can be simply covered.

Central Valley Ventilated Boxcar Kit.

Central Valley Boxcar Kit.

Central Valley Refrigerated Car Kit.

 

Central Valley kits are remarkably simple to construct and for their age are decent kits. These kits of Box cars, Reefers, Ventilated Box Cars, and Cabooses were basic wood kits which come with pre-formed and carved wood bases and blocks for the floor and car frame, the ends, and the roof. Traditionally these kits contained all the basswood and soft metal castings required. With pre-printed and pre-scribed wood sides, roof, and ends. The printing on these cars runs the gauntlet of quality. With some carsides being crisp and sharp. While others are dull and blurry. Metal details and the famous Central Valley Trucks with Snap on bolsters are included with each kit. The user was expected to buy trucks and couplers separately. Central Valley made the trucks, but alas they are no more, and it takes some scrounging to find appropriate trucks now-a-days. I tend to replace the metal details with Tichy NBW and brake equipment. As well as replace the brass rod with fishing line for the truss-rods. These make very nice cars that ride well and can be modified to fit a number of prototypes. On the downside, these are old kits. The printing on the carsides can be rather crude. The trucks that come with the kits are clunky and sometimes ride awkward and will require adjusting. A lot of the old casting have imperfections, and as I said before, I tend to use Tichy hardware for this very reason.

Central Valley Boxcar Kit

 

I've built a few LaBelle freight cars and while I love the results, the construction can be a bit of a headache. The kits came with everything except trucks and couplers. I found the destructions confusing, with drawings that are not scale to the parts provided, and the construction methods were straight forward, but made all the more challenging by wood parts and blocks that clearly were planed with old tooling. Warping, odd sizes, and uneven thicknesses abound with Labelle kits.
 

A LaBelle 34 foot boxcar

 

Labelle 34 foot boxcar

When it comes to painting these kits, one must remember that wood is porous. The varied grain of the scribed siding wood will absorb paint at different rates. LaBelle kits generally use a very good grade of scribed wood, but there is still a possibility that the grain will show through the first coat of any paint. Central Valley cars tend to be pre-printed, so too much paint will obscure detail and grain. One can either use a primer coat or a light application of your main color first - allow that to dry completely - and then a second coat. While the single coat may create a weathered appearance, that wood grain issue remains and I've found it better to use two coats of paint and then go back and apply light weathering if desired.
 

Also recall that dried glue does not absorb paint. Careful gluing is important on these kits to keep the glue from spreading out on surfaces that will be painted. The "second coat of paint" process can help to cover problems, but it is better to avoid the problem as the paint almost always appears more glossy on the spots covering glue. 

 

 

I also finished two more of the Crown Point flatcars kits. I covered these kits in an earlier review.  I put Tichy trucks under these ones. 

  

A few kitbash projects were likewise knocked off the shelf. Such as this tankcar built with a brass shell found in a parts bin at a local hobbystore atop a scratch built car-frame and body. The flatcar with load was built from an AHM flatcar lettered for the local "Stone Mountain Railroad" 

Roundhouse/MDC boxcar

Roundhouse/MDC, and later Roundhouse under the Athern banner, produced a number of 34foot wooden boxcars with trussrods. These cars are typical of 1890-1920 construction, while easy to backdate into the late 1880s. The kits are easy to put together, as they often come with a cast metal frame, plastic spru of parts such as the running board, queen-posts, and brake equipment, an a large body shell. I tend to replace the plastic parts with Tichy hardware, and use fishing line instead of thread for the rods. Otherwise, the cars go together as instructed. Sometimes with a few small details car to car. These are cheap and cheerful cars, and make fine runners. 

Well, that's all I have for this post. I'm back at work, so long spans of hobbytime are over. I have plenty of projects in the works though, and I can't wait until the pandemic lifts so I can return to the model railroad club and give my new freight train's worth of rolling stock some run time.