There I was sitting in the twilight, sipping a refreshing beverage with lime and tonic water, working on a Gershwin tune on the guitar, watching an Atlantic pull a few passenger cars, when I when I decided "hey, I need a freight train running. Get that bluesy whistle going. The train is made up and ready to go in the shed. So I press the appropriate buttons and throttle up, and wait a bit–no train. Give it a little more throttle–the shed is just out of site behind a big cherry laurel. Still no train. Then I hear this odd clunking sound, very much like you would hear if the kitbashed consolidation you spent so much time on had just taken a dive from three feet up.
Yep–a Chandler phantom struck. For no apparent reason, it just jumped the track. No obstructions. No bad track. no explanation.
Fortunately the damage was repairable, or it will be when I get around to it. Bruce we need to get these gremlins out of Northern VA. Send to Illinois or some place like that
