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I always try to make it for at least one Saturday. I love the old iron. Missed last year
It gives me inspiration to work on my projects, usually to no avail but hope springs eternal.
A great living museum to take kids to!
One project at a time, that's how I do it ( or at least I tell my self that) so far, the Cats done, the Tucker is done, the Boats done, and the PowerWagon is done, only 300 more to go!
I actually have been selling off projects, I realised I would never get to them, let alone finish them, so they are making their way to good homes!
....so how will we recognize you without your Caterpillar???
....
I miss the old truly inspiring Noon Whistle-rama.
How did you miss that? Right at 12:00
the huffing/chuffing/20 RPM/live steam/soothes me;
spent a couple years in the late 40s in Granny's shack next to the steam locomotive siding, which stopped around midnight to pick up produce from the packing plant literally in her yard.....you could hear the belching & whistle miles away as it approached from across the desert run....coming to a brief stop was sonic therapy, while the complex murmurs and wheezing of the resting beast for a few short minutes always entertained.
In the quiet of the rural night, under the darkness that magnified the starry starry sky, the rails themselves would being their own quiet song. Periodic snapping at first, and a growing excitement gradually increasing until all other night sounds were background to the tempo and magnificent crescendo coming to entertain. It always amazed, how the rails could sing.
The labor of lunging forward as the box car slack was added while the drive wheels would spin just a certain amount, time & again as eventually the clacking increased until the mournful steam whistle at the head signaled another success for the engineers technique.
I never tired of that nightly symphony just a few yards from my cot.
The steam powered washing machines from 30s exactly what she had at the time.
Think the grand kids are hooked on steam now. We'll be there too.
From a couple decades back, I was always physically vibrated in those bibs, as hoots and whistles & noon fog horns numerous & extensive all about the compound, would fire into action, for possible 1 full minute.
Not the 'loudness' per decibel, rather the intensity of the infra-sound became prominent enough to vibrate the very juices of my spine from their lethargy.