Here is a lengthy tale . . . and international one.
I'm an old fart now . . . living in California.
I was born in Japan and moved to US when I was 16. Ever since I can remember, if my parents took me anywhere, it was a combination of trains, tram and bus. We didn't own a car until I was 7 years old. But my commuting to my Catholic (English speaking) school was a daily 30 minute train ride and a 20 minute bus ride to get to school . . . every day, each way . . . since first grade.
So if I went anywhere away from home (with permission) was walk, train and bus ride. When I was 7 I finally started to get a weekly allowance of 30 yen (about 7 cents) a week. On weekends I would just take off in the morning to the local station, buy a child's local ticket for 5 yen (1-1/2 cent) then ride to the Yokohama Central station. As long as I didn't exit the station, I can walk to all the long distance platforms and hop on any train I wanted. All I had to do was avoid the conductor who checked tickets from time to time. Plenty of bathrooms to hide in. Couldn't go too far cause I had to be home by 3pm. This was 1959/1960 so plenty of steam to watch. Nothing was more impressive than to watch a D51 (looks like a Northern "elephant ears") steam engine come through with freight. I did this at least once a month . . . when I was 7 years old.
Sundays were my tarin days. I HAD to go church. Catholic churches were few and far between in Japan. The closest one was 5 stations away plus a 15 minute walk. My father was usually away cause he worked on a ship, my mother wasn't baptized yet so I was SENT to church since I was 5 years old with train fare. When I turned 7, I was given permission to go to church then do whatever but had to be home by 3pm. The station where I got off to go to church had a branch line coming over the local commuter rails. On the walk to the church, a couple of rice fields away was a branch line yard. I eventually found out that there was a freight train that dropped off some cars there every Sunday around 10am. On Sundays I would go to the early mass at 8am, then take a detour to a grade crossing, walk the tracks to the yard, sit at a safe distance and watch the freight drop off, then watch the local electrified switcher go to work. More often than not the freight train was late so the switcher and the crew just had to wait. I'd usually walk by closer to take a better look at the switcher. I eventually got to know the crew. The younger guy did all the running around. Throwing switches (all manual ones), coupling and de-coupling. He showed me how to throw switches, set couplers for coupling and all the cool stuff. The driver of the switcher eventually got concerned about safety about having a kid running around his loco. He finally said that if I wanted to be around when he was shunting,
I HAD TO BE IN THE CAB for safety!! So for about 8 months, every Sunday I got to ride in the cab of a switcher while the driver did his work. I got to meet the driver's 18 year old son who often rode in the cab as part of his training to become an engineer . . . to follow in his father's footstep. It all ended when they re-scheduled the Sunday freight to another day. But what a year that was !!
This all happened back in the days when the crew communicated with flags and hand signals from one end of the train to the other . . . they didn't even have walkie-talkies ! No one ever sued anyone, and rules were quite laxed . . . thank god for that.
Now . . .
ANY kid that goes through an experience like mine can't help but have rails for blood veins. Once yor hooked . . . its for life.
I didn't become a train engineer . . . but I sure dreamt about it a lot when I was a kid.
Time goes by . . . then LIFE happens. Suddenly your 55 (sigh) . . . BUT . . . guess what . . . EVERY time I hear or see a train, any train, my heart still skips a beat . . . just like the first time I saw a steam engine close by. "Wowww . . ."
Its that old undescribable feeling inside all train people that wells up when we hear, see or ride a train.
Thats my story
