Poolside Rails

“Here, now, I tole ye I’d find it,” the Chief Engineer says proudly.

“No one said you wouldn’t,” the CEO sniffs.

“Well, I did,” the CFO says quietly.

“After all,” the PR Guy says, “it did take you an awfully long time.”

“Ye dunna ken to how difficult these things are, lad,” the Chief Engineer is uncharacteristically nice this evening. He’s only on his second stout.

I figured the short would be in the electronics in the nose of the Bachmann Not-So-Big Hauler, as when my brother and I installed the radio from the Ferrari we didn’t have a working soldering iron or any electrical tape. So we used the old twisty-wire, masking tape combo and hoped for the best. You’re not talking high voltage coming out of half a dozen D cells, so masking tape is kinda okay.

So, the plan for the day was to try out the new Weller Soldering Gun on the Bachmann and FIX THAT SHORT! Ah, the best laid plans, eh?

Now, I remember that saying as: the best laid plans are aft gang aglay…and I think we can attribute it to Robert Burns…no, not George Burns. Say goodnight, Gracie. I think that’s the quote…looking it up now because I’m curious. No, it wasn’t George, it was Robert, written in 1785, and here’s the quote: “The best-laid schemes o’ mice an ‘men/Gang aft agley”. It’s from a poem he wrote called To A Mouse, On Turning Her Up In Her Nest With the Plough. Now you know something you didn’t now before, unless you already knew that, in which case I’ll go on with the story about the Bachmann.

The nose of the NSBH is just too cramped to allow soldered joints in the wires…everything has to bend in order to fit, and I rather fear the connections will break, as, from what I’ve seen, soldered joints aren’t all that flexible. Enter Wire Nuts. These guys hang on tightly, protect against cross-connection, and just plain look cool. So I replaced all of the twisted wire/masking tape combo joins with Wire Nuts. And it looks cool!

Once I  put the thing back together I discovered, much to my horror, that the short still prevailed. She ran fine until it hit a bump, and trust me, on the Paris-to-Peking Railway you can’t go more than six inches without hitting a bump, and then she’d stop. What in heavens name?

Off came the body shell…now, on the battery-driven Bachmann Big Hauler, the aft end of the boiler has this massive snap-on door that closes the battery compartment…the batteries are stored in the boiler. This is one massive piece of plastic, and Hercules himself has been known to complain about how hard it is to get that door open.

“I have?” Hercules says from Mt. Olympus.

“Shhh, it’s just a figure of speech. It’s those mortals,” Zeus says.

The battery door is firmly attached to the body shell, not the chassis, of the NSBH. With the body shell off, there is no way to test the electricals, as that door provides the cross-connection between the battery sets. Got it? So the way to test your electricals is with a knife, making the cross-connection yourself. I did that, and, wonder of wonders, the thing ran! And I couldn’t stop it from running until I removed the knife.

Picture Edison in his early years, before he invented the electric light bulb. What popped in above his head when he had an idea? A match? A lantern? Maybe a phonograph.

Here’s the source of the short: it aint no short. There are two little screws that hold the body shell onto the chassis. Somebody put tanks on the sides of the body shell in just the right place to occlude those screws…in other words, you can’t screw the body to the chassis. As the boiler door, which provides cross-connection, is attached to the body shell, any bump causes the body to vibrate away from the chassis, and, bzzzt, no connection. There’s your short, Napoleon! Or is it; There, you’re short, Napoleon…sorry, I’m in a weird mood.

So, I screwed the body on with a nasty looking screw in the aft end, where all nasty screws should take place, and, voila, she runs like the dickens! However it is that the dickens runs…don’t have time to look that one up.

“Here, lad,” slurs the Chief Engineer, “ye’re aft gang agley!”

“Here, now, what’s this?” the Chief Engineer grumbles in his thick Scottish brogue. “This dunna baffle me a’tall!”

“Well,” the PR Guy says, “be that as it may, it makes a much better story than ‘Garden Railway Chief Engineer Says Oh, I Get It’!”

“What baffles me is why ye still have a job!” The Chief Engineer goes back to his stout.

The Bachmann Not-So-Big Hauler ran great, forwards and backwards (unlike the locomotive in Polar Express that could be driven from side to side…it’s not a question of how they did it, but why you would need that in a locomotive). The NSBH responded nicely to the radio control. It was, in a word, cool.

And then, one fine winter’s day, it quit working. Well, those six D cells have been in there for a long, long time. Fresh Duracells (bing, bing BING) produced exactly the same result: nothin’. Well, that 9 volt sucker in the transmitter has been in there for a long, long time.  A fresh Duracell 9-volt (bing, bing BING) produced exactly the same result: still nothin’.The little headlight turned on and off only sporadically when commanded from the remote. Hmmm, something’s fishy. What IS it?

“Ye’ve got a short, y’idiot!” bellows the Chief Engineer. As if I didn’t know that.

Well, that was a fine winter’s day about a week ago. I decided to back-burner the thing because some other tragedy had befallen the household…I believe it was the Dreaded Event. Then came the rains, and the puttin’ up of the hardware before the storm of the century.

Just for giggles and grins, I snapped on the transmitter and pushed the throttle.

Now, you have to understand, I’ve spray-painted the crackers out of this locomotive. I’ve been trying to eliminate the Bachmann Big Hauler look from it, with all those gaily painted wheels and stuff, and I’ve blasted it pretty heavily with Rust-Oleum. Brown was the first color of choice. Then I nailed it with black to make the various new bits and pieces look merged together.  I haven’t quite gotten around to cleaning up the running gear on it yet, so when it runs, it has a lot of Rust-Oleum-Resistance to overcome.

But, it ran. Sure, it groaned and squeaked, but it ran! The headlight blinked on and off relative to commands from the remote. The thing trundled down the track toward the Kazakhstani Bridge, pushing the Troublesome Trucks before it. It came back…

Well, it came part of the way back. It got next to the cypress tree and decided to not run anymore. I thought perhaps we’d burned out the radio…it was designed to be powered by two AA’s, not six D’s.  But the light still responded to my commands (radio, not verbal).

And then there was a cool wind with a hint of moisture in it, and I knew I had to move my tail to get the thing out of the elements. I switched the batteries off in the locomotive, verified by the light no longer responding to the remote control, and parked ‘er in the train cabinet (the one I carelessly built over the outlet that houses both black widows and the GFI button).

Strange, huh? Dr. Voltmeter will have to take a look at our continuity when the rain lets up.

“Now, that dunna make no sense at all,” the Chief Engineer mutters.

Yes, you read right, my friend. If you saw the earlier post called Tough Times you’ll know that the Bachmann N-S-B-H took a dive from about three feet and landed with a horrific CRAACK on the concrete walkway. After picking ‘er up and checking things out I found no major physical damage, but the motor, she no work. Headlight works. Motor: nope.

I don’t mind telling you I was a trifle dispirited by that turn of events.  Here I hadn’t even finished the tank modification and I’d already blown up the radio.
But this weekend I decided to take the bull by the tail and face the situation.

With my trusty GE multimeter in hand I tackled the beast, trying to figure out what went wrong.  It turns out the problem had to do with the battery door …if you’ve ever seen the battery door on the Bachmann Big Hauler you’d be amazed at how robust that thing is. The batteries, six D cells, are stored in the boiler, so the battery door is actually the back end of the boiler itself. It has thick lugs that look like they were adapted from a submarine hatch that hold it in place.  Anyway, one of those broke off. Actually, it didn’t so much break off as the cement joint broke and it popped off. Two-part, five-minute epoxy put that sucker back on. All fixed!

So, whilst I was at that fixing thing, I decided to finish the modification…I know, that seems radical, but I decided what the hey: it’s taken long enough already. The grating over the top of the tanks is made from plastic canvas (stolen from my wife’s sewing basket…shhh, don’t tell!) and is glued down with more of the five-minute epoxy. I made the little hatches out of sheet styrene and stuck ‘em down with CA glue.

Now, I know what you’re thinking: you stuck the details onto a pre-painted piece of plastic? Are you nuts? You know that you can’t use acrylic glue on painted surfaces because the glue sticks to the paint, not the surface.

Well, the plastic canvas is made of polyethylene, which, as you know,  is the slickest, bendable-est, most difficult plastic to work with on the planet. Here’s what I did; I laid down a thick sheet of epoxy goo on top of the tanks, and then seated the canvas in it so that the epoxy gushed through some of the holes in it. This, when dry, rather locked the canvas into the epoxy. Then I sprayed the crackers out of it with black Rust-Oleum. The CA glue I used is a gel, and, like the epoxy, reached through the coruscations (it’s a word: look it up) in the canvas. The paint eliminated the slickness of the plastic whilst the gel anchored around the canvas. This is brilliant, if I must say so myself, and I must, for certainly no one else will say it.

Now, don’t be put off by that groovy purple paint. I just wanted to see what she’d look like with a black boiler nose and running gear and a colored everything else. The purple part of the loco will be either Chinese red or that rich chocolate-pudding brown we started with. Pretty cool, huh?

Here’s the kicker: IT WORKS!!!!

This post is unique in a number of ways, but most importantly that it was written on a Blackberry. Oh, how 21st Century-ish!

It seems Old Bessie the Desktop Behemoth has picked up a bit of a bug…darn thing won’t boot up without incessantly running CHKDSK after starting Windows. It was annoying the first time, frustrating the second, and INFURIATING!!! the third!

Well, I’ve shown Old Bessie! While my Windows OS disk spins merrily away in the E drive I’m sitting next to the heater with my wee little Blackberry, typing away as happily as you please! Hey, Bessie! CHK this DSK!

But that’s not the point of this post…nosiree Bob! Just looka those pics and tell me what ya’all see!

Those, my friend, are tanks…nice, rectangular tanks, carrying water and fuel oil and perhaps oolong tea…

Dang! I just “repaired” the Windows installation, and now it wants to boot up again! Grrrrrr….stupid Windows! Sure it works great for, like, 99.9% of the time, but I’m sleepy, I want to get this done, and, frankly, I’ve gotten a better offer! Well, we’ll just reload old Mr. Windows on Old Bessie and see who checks who’s disk!

So, take a guess as to what material your skin-flinty Mr. Turner used for those tanks…take a good look and you’ll see it…Cassette case? Nope, too small. CD crystal case? Nope, too thin…tick, tick, tick…BZZZZT! The correct answer: video cassettes!

Video cassettes are made out a nice, heavy plastic that, when taken apart, exactly match the depth required on the Bachmann Not-So-Big Hauler. Not only that, but they’re big enough that you can cut opposing sides of each tank from the same cassette. Better yet, you can reasonably eliminate a video tape you’d rather not have your kids see…ahem.

The left side tank came from a video of stupid stuff I shot 20 years ago when I thought I was a hotshot videographer. Talk about embarrassing footage! The right side tank is an annoying Veggie Tales video that was bad in 1992. The “edited” video cassettes make a nice, trim little tanky-looking package, don’t they?

Hot Dog! Back on the PC again…I opened Windows in Safe Mode and ran System Restore. Whatever I loaded, and I think it was, of all the things, updated software for the Blackberry…ah, insidious technologies!…must have tangled up the Windows OS. It’s better now!

Anyway, I unscrewed the video cassettes and broke them into two halves, and then cut the proper profile out of opposing corners of each half. By rotating the corners and gluing them together, I was able to acquire nice, smooth(ish), industrial-looking tanks.

They are glued to the sides of the locomotive body…no, they’re not as heavy as blocks of wood, but they’re plenty secure.  A quick coat of black Rust-Oleum, and, voila, tanks!

Now we have a radio controlled, short wheelbase, European profile 4-4-0 tank locomotive! The only problem now is that the coupler on the back end of the Bachmann is really just a big ugly hook. And the darn thing is so close to the locomotive’s frame that it really cinches the following car up tight! Have to work on that!

“What’s this about a spy?” gags the CEO on his brandy, “in our midst?”

“Yes,” the PR Guy shouts, “a SPY in our yards! Just look at these scandalous photos!”

“I’ve seen better,” mutters the Chief Engineer.

“Well, now, I say, that’s the Bachmann Big Hauler, isn’t it?” asks the CEO.

“Not so bloody big-hauler,” say s the Chief Engineer.

“Yes, yes it is,” stammers the PR Guy in his excitement. “But look again…it’s changed. That SPY must have gotten right next to it!”

“Is that masking tape?” queries the CFO. “Cheap masking tape? I hope so!”

“Isn’t it MYSTERIOUS?” asks the PR Guy.

“What’s mysterious is why you still have a job,” mutters the Chief Engineer.

“Who could these SPIES be?” continues the PR Guy, his spirits undampened by the harsh and thoughtless Chief Engineer.

“Frankly, I don’t see why you keep yelling the word ’spies’”,  says the CEO. “We get the idea; some blighter has taken photos of our Bachmann Not-S0-Big Hauler.”

“But look, Chief,” says the PR Guy, “look at those tanks! Doesn’t that pique your interest?”

“I’ll pique your nose with my fist if you don’t shut up,” says the Chief Engineer. He’s well into his fifth stout.

“All right you guys, come on, now,” whines the PR Guy. “You guys aren’t playing along on this thing at all.  The word SPY is supposed to generate interest in our readers…make ‘em pay attention to what’s going on in the yards at the Paris to Peking Railway, see? Spies are edgy… cool, you know?”

“Oh, I get it,” says the CEO, “it’s a publicity stunt, like cramming college kids into lemonade stands, or pitchers, or something like that!”

“Yes!” The PR Guy is delighted someone gets it. “Exactly like that! If our readers think we have spies in our yards, they’ll think we’ve got something cool to talk about!”

“Let ‘em talk aboot this,” slurs the Chief Engineer. “You’re an idiot.”

All right, I’ll tell you the truth: Ferrari S.A. didn’t actually donate a radio, nor did Ferrari USA. But you have to admit that’s a pretty impressive headline.

The donating Ferrari, in fact, was a really neat looking 1/20th scale red Enzo manufactured by Meijiaxin Toys Company, LTD (you can find them at www.mjxtoys.com).  It’s a remote control toy car my brother and I picked up at Toys R Us for $25…a little steeper than I was willing to pay for this project, but the cheaper units didn’t appear to have any speed control, just forward and reverse.

The project, of course, is the seemingly never-ending conversion of the Bachmann Big Hauler 4-6-0 to a Bachmann Not-So-Big Hauler 4-4-0 that will be able to negotiate the tight radius turns on the Paris to Peking Railway. In hacking the two inches out of the frame length to shorten the wheelbase, I had to hack two inches out of the boiler to match.  The Big Hauler’s PC board, which accommodated not just the receiver but also sound, was three inches long and sat in the boiler…with the boiler shortened, there is now no place for the board to fit!

All right, I’ll tell you the truth: when I first started on this project I just tore into the boiler, cutting wires and pulling out pieces until I got it to the length I wanted. One of the victims of that violent attack was that PC board. I believe it works, but it’s been shorn of its wires, and now, truly, no longer fits.

But the Ferrari board is just a little one-incher. Not only that, but the Ferrari has neat LED headlights that work! We were concerned, my brother and I, that the six D Cell batteries might overpower the little board, which was designed to handle the juice from just 4 AA batteries.  As you can see from the picture, we need not have worried. Everything seems to be working fine.

All right, I’ll tell you the truth:  I didn’t do the installation myself. My brother did the electronic work quickly and excellently.  He was able to get the board to fit into the stubby front end of the boiler so that access to the power switch is gained by popping off the press-fit boiler end plate. It strikes me as rather funny that one end of the boiler pops off to reveal the board and the switch, while the other end of the boiler pops off to allow access to the batteries. Like a real locomotive, the entire structure of the boiler is in use, between the batteries and the radio. No fake empty spaces here!

The beast runs pretty well. The motion is a little herky-jerky every now and again, but I think that’s because we crammed the antenna alongside the batteries in the boiler, right over the motor. There may be a lot of EMF interference in there.  The original Big Hauler runs the antenna around the inside of the cab roof…maybe we’ll do something like that.

The idea for this project came from Kalmbach’s Tips & Tricks for your garden railway,  a supplement that came with my subscription to Garden Railways magazine.  It was inexpensive, easy (well, for me, because I didn’t do it!), and effective…the darn thing actually works!

There is just one little issue; the R/C Ferrari was designed to blink its headlights when running backwards. Take a guess at what happens to the Not-So-Big Hauler’s light in reverse!

Well, now that we’ve decided upon the wiring, and we’ve got that groovy China Bridge in the surface finish test mode, it’s time to revisit the Bachmann Not-So-Big Hauler.  Sounds like I have a plan, doesn’t it? Well, dream on.

With the onset of winter hours…who knew they’d monkey with the clocks?…I don’t get home from working at the Evil Empire until the sun has set.  That means our exciting mid-week adventures now need to move indoors. That’s okay…there’s plenty to do!

Case in point is the Bachmann Not-So-Big Hauler. As you’ll recall, and maybe you will, we’re in the process of reducing a Bachmann Big Hauler from a 4-6-0 to a 4-4-0, changing its profile to a European style tank engine along the way.

Shortening the wheelbase turned out to be the easiest part of the job.  I hacked a two inch long piece out of the boiler to accommodate elimination of the forward drive wheels. The wheels came right out and everything fit back together just fine down there on the chassis. I was even able to compensate for the change in taper of the original boiler.

The cosmetic changes, however, have been a rather challenging adventure. First there was remodeling the cab…how do you make a wild west locomotive cab look like a French  teapot? Schwoops, my friend, and little round windows!

Now the time has come to build the tanks on either side of the boiler. I’ve installed nice wooden blocks to stand behind the promised plastic skin on the tanks themselves.

You know I’m cheap…

“Economy-minded” says the PR Guy at the Paris to Peking Railway Co. board meeting.

“Oh yes,” says the CEO, “that’s a dandy phrase. Let’s use that one!”

“He’s a rummy cheap bas…”starts the Chief Engineer.”

“…bastion of thriftiness,” finishes the PR Guy. “We must stay positive!”

“I’m positive he’s a rummy cheap jackanapes,” the Chief Engineer mutters into his stout. It’s only his third beer, so he’s just at the verbally challenging stage of the evening.

…even though I work a good solid day at the Evil Empire, I make a poor wage. I drive 43 miles each way each day to earn a paltry sum. My wife tells me I need to get another job…I tell her I have a pretty good job now and she says “no, another job.” As a result my discretionary funds are rather discreet, as in absolutely unavailable!

But I’m also a packrat, and have saved some of the buildings from an HO layout I had in a basement well over a decade ago. This little gem sacrificed its nice sheet styrene walls for the tank skin.

Alas, the plastic is rather old, and has gone brittle. Not only that, but the majority of the details like windows and doors are rather well cemented in and won’t pop off. Turned window-side in it works okay, but it’s not my first choice.

So, we’re started on tanks. We’ll probably find a better source for sheet plastic…I may beg a few shekels from the Budget and Finance Committee (Mrs. Turner) and go to the hobby shop…but these crummy pieces provide nice templates so that I won’t waste too much sheet plastic when we reach the time to cut!

“Nothin’ but cheap scum!” roars the inebriated Chief Engineer. “Tearing doon a nice buildin’ like that for the plastic inside! Y’ought ta be ashamed o’ yerself!”

“I think it’s a rather clever way to recycle materials,” says the CEO.

“I’ll use that,” says the PR Guy. “That’s good!”

“Can’t we just adjourn the meeting and call it day?” grumbles the CFO.

“Oh, very well,” says the CEO. “Let’s go home. Meeting adjourned.”

As you know, the Bachmann Not-So-Big Hauler, the classic 4-6-0 locomotive I’ve converted into a 4-4-0, has been undergoing the Europeanification process for quite some time now.

The reason behind this entire process is quite simple: we need a heavyweight, battery-driven locomotive in order to run the rough rails in the China Section. The New Bright 2-6-0, although operational, carries the batteries in the tender, eliminating their value as traction-generators. It bobs and weaves through the China Section like Sugar Ray Leonard, but doesn’t have the weight to combat the gauge issues and therefore pops off the track about every six inches or so.

The Bachmann Big Hauler carries the batteries in the locomotive, but has too long of a wheelbase to negotiate the four foot diameter curve of the China Loop. The little LGB 0-4-0 runs exquisitely through most of the loop, but electrification issues abound, and the loop is incomplete.

So, we must modify the Big Hauler. I’ve shortened the pilot truck so that it fits under the new shortened boiler, which hangs over the new 4 drive wheel configuration. Just to make sure there are no gauge-crash issues, I placed un-flanged wheels on the forward drivers. The only flanges that touch the rails are on the pilot truck and the rear drive wheels…haven’t tested that one out yet. The more I think about it, the less enthusiastic I am about the concept.

Now, I’m not an engineer…

“Ye got that right,” the Chief Engineer mutters into his stout. “Ye’re a moron.”

…I’m an artist. But to make this dang railway run, it takes a ton of engineering skills that I’m having to pick up on the fly.

“Now, now, let’s watch our language,” says the CEO.

“‘Dang’ doesn’t sell,” says the PR Guy. “Try ‘gosh-darn’.”

“Ye’re all a bunch of lily-livered cowards,” the Chief Engineer mutters, and then mumbles a stream of invective that would make sailors blush.

The biggest issue I can’t resolve on this modification is the angle of the driver rods. The valves sit outside the frame, of course, which means they sit outside of the drive wheels. As designed, the driver rods stretched back to the rear drive wheels at a nice, subtle angle. When I shortened the wheelbase, however, I moved the rear drive wheels much closer to the valves. Now the angle of those driver rods is pretty wicked! They still move smoothly enough, but rather lack the elegant prototypical correctness of the Big Hauler.

“‘Elegant prototypical correctness’, I’ll use that!” says the PR Guy.

“Elegant crap, if you ask me,” says the Chief Engineer. “That steep angle’ll will give you friction problems all the way doon the line, you ruddy ape! You’ve made a mess of it!”

That's One Steep Angle!

I thought about moving the valves closer in, but they’re already against the frame. I guess I could fabricate new valves, but, as you’ll see from the pictures of the tanks, I’m an artist, not an engineer.

“You got that ruddy right,” the Chief Engineer pours himself another stout. I think it’s number three, but I lost count. We know it’ll be a fistfight after number 6.

Anyway, the railway runs from Paris to Peking, and the Big Hauler is an American locomotive, not European. That’s where the rest of this conversion comes in.

I’m happy with the round windows at the front of the cab, and with the groovy schwoopie side windows. Now we’re tackling tanks.

“‘Tackling Tanks’,” says the PR Guy. “I’ll use that, too!”

“Bunch of Nancy boys,” mutters the Chief Engineer.

Following the advice of my brother, who is an engineer, I split a piece of 2×4 to form the base of the tanks. I lack the finesse for such finesse work, and the result rather lacks in finesse.

It looks better in the dark!

“Ye’re a ham-fisted baboon,” says the Chief Engineer. “I’ve seen better work done by my drunk grandmother.”

Well, be that as it may, the tanks are tentatively tacked on. I like the look. I used gnarly drywall screws to hold the tanks on temporarily for the Kodak Moment above. I’ll epoxy ‘em on tomorrow, using the same screws to anchor ‘em while the epoxy sets. Once that’s done, I’ll be able to drive smaller screws into ‘em from the inside. The big drywalls will conflict with the batteries, otherwise I’d leave ‘em in.

Yes, the tanks look crummy right now…

“I thought ye said ye were an artist!” laughs the Chief Engineer.

“Never show a child or an idiot anything half done,” clucks the PR Guy. That was not a wise comment. Insulting the Chief Engineer when he’s into his stouts is a dangerous proposition.

…but once I’ve added sheet styrene cladding they should look pretty sharp.

So, we’ve got the cab reconfigured. We’ve got a good start on the tanks, and will have them looking sharp by week’s end.

Now, there’s just one problem that remains: That long boiler held a very sophisticated circuit board. Very nice. Came right out with a couple of snips of the wire cutters. Hey! I seem to have removed the On/Off switch! I can get the beast to run forward by twisting together a couple of wires…

“Idiot’s switch,” yells the Chief Engineer. He’s got the poor PR Guy in a headlock.

…but of course the thing screams down the rails at full speed because there’s no remote control to moderate the speed.

So, my wife and I were at Pic-N-Sav…I mean Big Lots!…this afternoon and I spotted a nifty looking radio control pickup truck for eight bucks. We were buying cheapo Halloween decorations for the house, which meant I couldn’t get the $8 justified to the Budget and Finance Committee. When I sell my book, which, incidentally, goes to market on Wednesday, I’ll go buy that truck. The radio should fit inside the locomotive.

So, we’re moving forward on this project. I want to get it done so I can get back to my overhead wiring system. I’m telling you, that’ll be really cool.

“I’m telling ye ye’re an idiot!” bellows the Chief Engineer.

The CEO adjourns the meeting just in time, as the Chief Engineer has ordered his sixth stout and the PR Guy is hiding behind the CFO.

Wish me luck on the book!

Yes, we have a new format here at Poolside Rails. Yes, it’s taken us a long time to get our act together in reworking the website. Yes, it’s taken me a long time to get another post together. Quit your whining, rub some dirt in it and get back in the game!

Actually, I do apologize for the delay in getting you an update on what’s going on in the garden: trying to get a book published is a major, major time taker!

So, here we are, revisiting the locomotive yet again. I tried to drill out those windows, I swear I did. I got the first window pretty oval-shaped. The problem was that second one, behind the first. I used the same template and everything. But cutting through that plastic was tough, and, as the saying goes, there’s many a slip between the cup and the Lipton’s.

After many efforts and much cutting, I invited my sister the artist to see if she could draft out rounder, better looking ovals, as she was sitting there drinking my tea and doing nothing. She sketched pretty cool looking ovals, but they took up the whole side of the cab.

“You know,” my brother in law said, “if you make big windows like that the engineer’s going to hanging out in the breeze. You really should have smaller windows, maybe three of them, only in the upper half of the cab.”

Three Window Option: Rolling Pawnshop

Well, I’m an open-minded guy. And, as you know, I’m a wizard with those popsicle sticks. My plan was to panel the upper half of the window area with those coffee stir sticks and then cut three windows in that that. But I have to be honest.  Take a look at that “artist’s rendering.”  Yes, it looks early industrial-revolution, but it looks pawn-shoppish to me. Plus, I had so much trouble cutting just two windows, I can’t imagine tackling six! So, three windows are out.
My little girl is seven years old and a kick in the pants. She likes to wake daddy up early on Saturday morning and watch cartoons in bed between him and mommy. Mommy likes to read while daddy likes to snore through the cartoons.

But last Saturday my wife got sick of the commercial drivel (my favorite part, of course) and switched over to PBS just in time for Thomas the Tank Engine. Well, I will always cease snoring for Thomas.

Henry, the big, powerful engine, has tanks on either side of the boiler but rectangular windows on the side of the cab. Thomas has no side windows whatsoever, sporting instead a tall opening between the cab and an aft mounted coal bunker. None of the other locomotives, James, Emily, Scarlowee, had any windows at all. Toby, let’s just say he’s square.

So, enter Plan III, the No-Window Not-So-Big Hauler. I like it. I really do. I can cut that cool curve, I can protect the driver, and I can get it DONE!

Groovy Schwoopie Cab - easier to cut!

There’s a bit of a Catch-22 relative to the tanks to be mounted onto the boiler. I like the idea of using a massive hunka hunka wooden wood to bulk out the tank…I’ll sheath it in sheet plastic to give it a detailable surface. But the upper locomotive is held to the chassis by just two screws, and they are dead center above the two remaining drivers.  Fitting the tanks will occlude the screws, denying access to the engineering staff planning to take the thing apart.

Wireframe shape of the tank

I imagine I’ll have to drill a tunnel in the bottom of the tank to provide access to the screw.  It will just have to show up out there in the open air, for all to see…this cool looking tank with a square little notch out of the bottom of it. Have to work on that one.

Next on the agenda for the locomotive, once the new Windowless Version is complete and the tanks are fitted, is to come up with a remote control mechanism.  I read in the Tips and Tricks for Garden Railways flyer from Kalmbach that cheapo remote contol cars can provide excellent electronics…and you get to choose between 29 and 47 megahertz!

Look, ma, TWO locomotives!