As you can see from the picture below winter has finally arrived and I can say with absolute certainty that operations on the Cibola line are closed until next spring. There are places on my layout that will not thaw until April. I guess it is time to turn to my work bench and get some of those rolling stock and scenery projects done, but where to start? I have lots of kits on hand and plenty of things on my wish list. Should I start something new or finish something that has been sitting on the shelf for a while? I decided to go with the latter and that is where I got into trouble.
Here is a rare view of my well organized train closet. It is so backlogged I had to hire an assistant to track everything.
As I perused the train closet I found half built tank cars, partially assembled figures waiting for a headectomy or arm swap and plenty of Hubley kits in various states of disarray. Little did I realize the danger of such a casual approach as lurking high on the top shelf was my nemesis… engine 37. (Insert pause with dramatic musical score here…duh, duh, dum….) A cold chill ran down my spine as the memories of the little 2-8-0 came flooding back. It had been my first installation of a battery / RC system. I had not touched it since last year when I accepted that the job was not up to standards and had to be completely redone. It had set all summer neglected and forlorn waiting for some detail work as well as paint and lettering.
As I carefully pulled it down so as not to dump the loose parts piled on top of the tender I realized that it was a project in its own category. Not a mere common shelf sitter but something more powerful and daunting. Just getting it to the work bench was overwhelming. Did this small model really weigh over one hundred pounds? Such was my angst that I could not even bring myself to pick up a screwdriver. What kind of beast was this? Why was it so hard to get started? I struggled for a word to describe this type of project but my vocabulary failed me. It needed that name. Some term that when used in conjunction with the word “finished” would let other garden railroaders know that a great triumph over despair and procrastination had been achieved. Without that term there would be only benign acknowledgment, ho-hum, “oh you got another engine completed”, but with it, all hearing the announcement would congratulate me in hushed and reverent tones, fully grasping the weight of the accomplishment.
Days went by. I searched the dictionary and a thesaurus, I trolled Wikipedia, I contacted the greatest philosophical minds in the world, consulted with religious leaders and even resorted to asking the “magic 8 ball”, but the answer eluded me. My quest finally ended the night of the NMGRR Christmas potluck. Having feasted on BBQ pork, posole, cornbread and pecan pie I made the rounds socializing with all of the club members. Finally in a dimly lit, smoke filled back room I found the group I needed, it was none other than the NMGRR “Brain-trust”. Without hesitation I poured out my quandary and then waited for the gears to turn. To say the least it was one of the most transcending moments of my hobby life. All present immediately grasped the situation as they too had dealt with such projects themselves.
The quick reply I had hoped for did not materialize. Some members averted their gaze, others vapor locked deep in thought, the smell of burnt electrical components and wood smoke filled the air but nobody had an answer. Even the most learned and esteemed members drew a blank. I was on the verge of accepting defeat when a low voice cut through the din of silence…”how about a dreadnought project”? It was Lonnie Brandenburg, veteran of many a difficult project and experienced kit-basher. Glances were exchanged. Heads nodded approval. Eyes brightened. The mood lifted and soon concurrence was reached. Dreadnought: meaning, something that is overwhelming and oppressive. It was the perfect term for which I had been searching.
Over the next few days the term migrated into; Dread-knot, as it was a project that the builder dreaded to start working on and tied their stomach in a knot from the stress. I was ecstatic at such a descriptive euphemism. I flung open the door on the train closet and counted up the number of dread-knot projects on hand. One, two…five…20, I never realized I had so many! Then I stopped and rethought my revelation. They could not all be dread-knots. Criteria would have to be set forth or the term would become meaningless with overuse. I decided on a few general guidelines, leaving the details open for interpretation by each modeler based on their own feelings.
A Dread-Knot project is one which:
Has been started, with major work completed before the enthuse-o-meter ran out (Meaning I have hacked it up to the point where no reasonable amount of cost could be recovered by selling it on E-bay)
Has been left unfinished for a significant amount of time, (I chose a minimum of two years)
Requires tasks that are time consuming, frustrating and technically difficult to reach completion (So pretty much everything except opening the box)
Upon completion it will add a unique point of interest to the layout, (I must insure that the mental agony of not having it done is maximized)
Using these guidelines I reevaluated my project list. The count was now down to three; engine 37, engine 50 and Ohmygawd trestle. I resolved to finish at least one of these before starting any new projects. Engine 37 is now dismantled on my work bench, old lettering removed, new smokestack glued and curing and the wood load for the tender under construction. When it is complete I will be certain to share the joyous news. I will expect the appropriate response from all of you as I look forward to doing the same in return for your endeavors. May we all triumph over our dread-knot projects and revel in their defeat.
Since I originally wrote this article on my now defunct website I have finished all three of these projects.
Ohmygawd trestle became Ohmygawd bridge.
I have new Dread-Knots now. Perhaps I will get to work on them.