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was returning from an impromptu trip to Utica, N.Y., to document the Adirondack Scenic Railroad cleanup train bringing in all equipment and materials from Lake Placid (see page 14). We enjoyed conversation over coffee, and then parted ways (Mike would be joining us for the show later that evening). As we departed South Bend, Ind.,


like making enough trees for a forest, shingling roofs, or cutting about a mil- lion pieces of stripwood to the same length for a board-by-board construc- tion project. Such things are fun, to a point, and then they become less fun. In order to break the boredom during


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I placed a phone call to marketing director George Riley, who was driving up from his office in Virginia to meet me in Milwaukee. The Lake Shore was running on schedule, so I was pretty sure I was going to make Train 333, the 10:30 a.m. Hiawatha Service departure. It was a beautiful fall day with clear skies, so I asked George if he didn’t mind diverting off the path a bit to pick me up in Sturtevant, Wis., so we could go check out the nearby Kenosha Trolley. We enjoyed lunch at Culver’s followed by a ride on classic PCC trolley cars. After a successful Trainfest weekend,


these “drudge projects,” I often listen to recordings of old radio shows, shows that were broadcast from the l930’s to the 1950’s, great programs like the Jack Benny Show, Suspense, and The Lone Ranger. Unlike watching TV while modeling, I can keep my eyes on the work while my mind goes off on an adventure somewhere else, except for the part in charge of keeping the hand holding the hobby knife from slicing the fingers off the hand that isn’t! One of my favorite shows is a sci-fi


series called X Minus One, which ran in the waning days of network radio back in the 1950’s. In the opening of this show, the announcer dramatically tells listeners that they are about to experience adventures “in which you’ll


George and I made plans to drive back to his office in Virginia together so we could bring back some show materials and displays. I volunteered to pilot our rented box truck all the way from Milwaukee to Lynchburg, Va. After a day to recover and gather my wits, George put me on the early morning departure of Train 20, the northbound Crescent to New York City. Kemper Street Station is an old Southern Railway facility that was restored by the city government in 2000. The current Amtrak waiting room occupies the old freight section at track level. The Crescent arrived just a few minutes late in the pre-dawn hours, with heavy fog permeating the air. As dawn broke, I noticed frost on the


kudzu as we sped north. Around 7:30 I made my way to the diner car (Amtrak 8509, ex-Northern Pacific 459) and enjoyed pancakes, juice, and coffee for my breakfast. I relished what could be my last ride in a heritage diner before the replacements arrive. Small towns gave way to the suburbs


served by Virginia Railway Express. Upon arrival at Washington Union Station, I hopped off to snap a photo of Norfolk Southern business car Maryland that had tagged along for the ride. Once our diesels were swapped for electrics, we were again on our way. It was fun to see the colorful commuter trains of MARC at Baltimore and


build bridges that could not stand up under their own weight, or have UP Big Boys hauling stack trains. The truth is, I chose freelancing first because it just naturally appealed to the contrarian in me, and second, because it fulfilled the need for a creative outlet that was miss- ing in my life during a time when my work was all about being creative. For nearly 25 years I made my living writing advertising, dreaming up TV and radio commercials, magazine ads, and sales brochures for everything from cars to beer. Now you might think a job like that would give me all the creative outlets I could handle and you would be right—up to a point. That point is called “creative freedom,” and in the advertising business it’s normal- ly in very short supply. The creativity involved in advertis-


ing is not the same as the kind used to write poetry or to coax beautiful statu- ary out of a slab of marble. That is pure creativity, the kind that answers only to the heart and soul of the artist.


TEEN-AGERS


the New Jersey Palisades as our train sped north along the Hudson River, but it was already getting dark by the time we arrived in Croton-Harmon station. Things sure looked different since I moved out of the area a few years ago. While the original Harmon Shop has been demolished in favor of a modern maintenance facility, the bigger shock was to see the CSX Croton West Yard to be completely devoid of any cars. Train time is what you make of it. I listened to music, answered emails, and edited the text of a feature story as we made our way to Albany. It’s been a few years since I have visited the new station, and it was great to see progress being made on longer platforms. When we arrived, the Boston section of the Lake Shore Limited was already waiting for us. While crews combined the two sections, I headed upstairs to replenish on snacks and drinks for the ride west. I was quite pleased to find the station newsstand was fully stocked with both RAILFAN & RAILROAD and Railroad Model Craftsman. Into the evening hours, the train gets


The Teen Association of Model Railroaders is dedicated to helping teens with the hobby. For information write:


TAMR,


c/o Newton Vezina, 76 Roy Street Springfield, MA 01104


http://tamr.org Email: info@tamr.org SEPTEMBER 2011


quiet. Conversations die down, replaced only by the squeal of steel flanges as we


SEPTA in Philadelphia. Once I spied NJ Transit trains as we arrived in Trenton, N.J., I knew we were getting close to New York. Familiar stations like Princeton Junction, New Brunswick, and Metuchen flew by in a blur. As we departed Newark, N.J., we raced a Port Authority Trans-Hudson rapid transit train across the Meadowlands. Soon we plunged into the east portal


and the darkness of the Hudson River Tunnels. As we slowed for the approach to the platforms of Penn Station, it was weird to see the once familiar glimpse of the Manhattan skyline through the “air hole” to now be covered over by the new Hudson Yards development. It had been at least ten years or more


since I boarded the Lake Shore Limited (or any train) at New York Penn Station. I had about an hour and a half to kill, so I took a quick walk up to 34th Street for some fresh air. Then I ducked back into the station for a quick lunch of thin- crust pizza followed by a visit to a deli to grab a sandwich for the ride home (declining the option for a “Diner Lite” dinner onboard the train). I was treated to a beautiful sunset over


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