Author Note: This is part 7 of a series. It can be read independently, but it will make a lot more sense if you read the episodes in order.

The characters presented in this story are entirely fictional and not intended to represent any member of a real life railroading or model railroading organization.

Background Info: The Scioto River runs through central Ohio, emptying into the Ohio River south of Columbus. Scioto (pronounced SY-OH-TOH) actually means "deer" in the Wyandot language spoken by the branch of the Huron Indian tribe that once inhabited central Ohio. Railroads formed an important part of the local economy throughout the 19th and early 20th centuries. Both the Norfolk & Western Railroad and the Chesapeake & Ohio Railroad had branch lines running through the Scioto Valley. By the 1980s only a single line owned by the Norfolk Southern Railway was still in use. Many of the other railroad tracks in the valley were gone, having been torn out and replaced with hiking and biking trails that followed the meandering course of the river through the valley.

Local interest in railroading remained high, with a few small railroad and trolley museums located in some of the major towns along the old right of way. There was also the Scioto Valley Model Railroading Society, a group of men and boys who operated a large HO scale layout in the basement of a local church. The massive 24 foot by 32 foot layout modeled the local railroads as they existed circa 1950, when steam locomotives were still in use but diesel locomotives were being introduced. The members of the society dubbed their layout the Scioto Valley Railroad (SVRR).

In the summer of 1984 a car-load of members of the Scioto Valley Model Railroading Society went on a road trip...

Wednesday morning dawned clear and cool. Well, at least it seemed cool for August. It looked like their last full day in Strasburg would be a beautiful one. Everyone was up early and the adults decided that they should see at least a little bit of Lancaster County other than the railroad and museums before leaving the next day. The plan was to check out of the motel on Thursday morning and drive to Philadelphia. There they would be visiting Independence Hall and seeing the Liberty Bell. From conversations Rob had overheard between his parents, this visit to those historic and non-railroad attractions was one of the key reasons why his mother, a history teacher, had agreed to allow the trip.

The group would also be visiting The Franklin Institute, a science and industry museum named after famed inventor and statesman Benjamin Franklin. According to promotional literature for that Philadelphia landmark, the major exhibits included a replica human heart that was so large you can actually walk through it, and a full-sized moving Baldwin steam locomotive. Rob couldn't wait to see how they managed to rig up a working steam locomotive inside a museum.

Shorts and tee shirts turned out to the uniform of the day once again for the Scioto Valley Railroad (SVRR) gang. Rob and Casey both wore the official Grace Under Pressure Tour tee shirts they had purchased at the Rush concert they attended the previous month. Kenny wore a shirt promoting King's Island, his favorite amusement park located just outside Cincinnati. Donald was wearing a blue tee shirt honoring the designs of his favorite modern architect, Ludwig Mies van der Rohe.

They ate breakfast at a small Amish-owned diner north of Strasburg. Once again breakfast was excellent, with loads of hearty farm-fresh food. The diner had a bakery section that featured a traditional Lancaster County comfort food, the Whoopie Pie. These consisted of two large cake-like cookies made into a sandwich filled with vanilla cream. The Whoopie Pies were available with chocolate, pumpkin or red velvet cake cookies. Donald purchased a box of a dozen Whoopie Pies in assorted flavors to go. They could use them as snacks later in the day.

Sam, Mark and Casey all looked none the worse for wear after the switchings they had taken the previous day. In fact Sam and Mark seemed downright chipper under the circumstances and seemed to be looking forward to their big day at the Railroad Museum of Pennsylvania. Casey still looked a bit somber. Rob tried to convince his friend that he had already has his official "signs" whipping in Groff's Grove the previous day. But Casey would have none of it.

For his own part, Rob was bound and determined to beat the 'signs' this time and not do anything to earn a whipping that day. He reminded himself to 'think twice' before saying anything to make sure than no random profanity slipped out. Meanwhile he plastered a cheerful smile on his face and pressed on with the day.

With more than an hour to kill until the Railroad Museum of Pennsylvania opened for business at 9 AM, Donald decided to fuel up his Mercury station wagon and check the oil, so the car would be ready to get back on the road the next day. His 1982 Mercury Marquis Colony Park station wagon had a 302 V8 engine with the new Ford Electronic Engine Control system, making it one of the first production automobiles with electronic fuel injection. This made the engine more powerful and, at least in theory, more reliable that the carbureted version of the same engine. After the car was serviced they drove around the Lancaster countryside taking in the Amish farms and other rural scenery until it was time for the museum to open.

Jeff Arden was bored by the bucolic scenery, and the 9-year-old made his opinion known. Apparently the Ardens took occasional day trips to Amish Country in east-central Ohio and one Amish farm looked the same as another, at least as far as Jeff was concerned. Thomas pointed out that Ohio actually had a larger Amish population than Pennsylvania, although the Lancaster County version of Amish Country was much more famous.

Donald mentioned the fact that Harrison Ford had just shot a film in Lancaster County. Apparently he played a big city detective who went undercover in the Amish community. Rob tried to imagine Han Solo with an Amish beard and a blaster pistol in his hand. Something about that just didn't add up. How about Indiana Jones and the Chicken Coop of Doom? Nope, but maybe Indy could dig up evidence of the famous ghost train of Lancaster County.

Eventually they headed for the museum, arriving just after 9 AM. This would give them the whole day to tour the Railroad Museum of Pennsylvania if needed. Apparently the anti-food and drink mania was in full force at this museum, too. So they would have to go get lunch elsewhere. The good news what that their museum tickets were good for the entire day of purchase, so they could leave and come back as often as necessary until the museum closed at 5 PM.

Rob was amazed to learn that the Railroad Museum of Pennsylvania (RMoP) was an actual state-sponsored museum operated by the Pennsylvnia State Historical & Museum Commission. The mission of the Railroad Museum of Pennsylvania was to collect, preserve and interpret objects related to the history of railroading in Pennsylvania. Among other things, this meant that the museum owned the most extensive collection of former Pennsylvania Railroad equipment in the world.

The collection included two complete Pennsylvania Railroad (PRR) GG1 electric locomotives. One of them, PRR #4935, was located indoors, inside the large trainshed that made up most of the enclosed space of the museum. According to the signage PRR #4935 had been built in 1943 at the PRR Altoona Works in Altoona, PA. One of the last GG1's built, it was intially placed in passenger service with the PRR. Through various mergers and acquisitions it remained in passenger service with the Penn Central Railroad and finally with Amtrak until 1983, when it was retired and transfered to the RMoP.

PRR #4935 had been lovingly restored to its original PRR livery of Brunswick Green with five golden stripes flowing down the length of the locomotive. Rob couldn't help thinking of them as 'racing stripes', similar to those placed on fast cars. Although Rob's personal preference leaned decidedly towards steam locomotives, he could see his father's point about the design of the GG1. The locomotive was an art deco masterpiece, particularly with the five golden stripes highlighting its curves. Looking at PRR #4935 end-on, the stripes curved up the sides like a bow wave that made the 240 ton behemoth look like it was moving at least 70 miles per hour even when it was standing still.

Rob ended up taking several pictures of his father with the GG1, the man's favorite locomotive. One picture was with Rob's own Minolta camera, but several were with Donald's Nikon SLR rig. Rob had no problem acting as Donald's camera man. In fact he had concluded that sticking close to his father for most of the day would be a good way to stay out of any kind of serious trouble.

Thomas suggested that they tour the outdoor exhibits while the sun was out. This would give the group the option of moving to the inside displays if any thunderstorms popped up later in the day. So the group trooped outside into the vast museum grounds. There were literally acres of vintage railroad equipment to explore.

Rob's favorite locomotive in the museum was out in the yard. PRR #3750 was a K4s Pacific 4-6-2 steam locomotive. The K4 Pacifics had been the primary PRR passenger locomotive from 1914 until the railroad ceased using steam power in 1957. These were the locomotives that pulled such famous PRR trains as the Broadway Limited (New York - Chicago) and the Spirit of St. Louis (New York - St. Louis).

According to the exhibit signs, PRR #3750 had been built in 1920 at the PRR Juniata Works and had served in passenger service. Its main claim to fame was pulling the funeral train for President Warren G. Harding in 1923. Rob remembered from his Ohio history class that Harding was the eighth (and final, at least so far) U.S. President from Ohio. Casey took a couple of photos of Rob with the locomotive using Rob's camera and one photo with his own camera.

The museum's other GG1 electric locomotive, PRR #4800, was also out in the train yard. This was the original prototype GG1 locomotive. The chassis, running gear and body had been built and assembled in 1934 by the Baldwin Locomotive Works. The motors and electrical systems had been installed by General Electric at their factory in Erie, Pennsylvania. The prototype had a riveted body as opposed to the welded body used in production GG1 models. The led to the nickname of the locomotive, "Old Rivets".

Old Rivets had served in PRR passenger service starting in 1935. It was later converted over to freight service and was finally retired in 1979 after the main transformer failed. The rivets on the old prototype were clearly visible. It had a plain black paint job with no logos or stripes visible anywhere on the body of the huge locomotive. A small sign indicated that PRR #4800 had been named an Historic Mechanical Engineering Landmark in 1983 by the American Society of Mechanical Engineers. Rob wasn't entirely sure what all that meant, but his father sure seemed impressed by it. Rob took some pictures of his father with the GG1 prototype - he hadn't often seen the man that happy before.

Casey had always been fascinated by camelback steam locomotives, where the crew cab was located on either side of the boiler about half way back from the front of the locomotive. So naturally Casey's favorite locomotive at the RMoP was Reading Railroad #1187, an 0-4-0 Camelback switcher located out in the train yard.

Rob thought that camelbacks looked a little silly and didn't seem too practical. He certainly wouldn't have wanted to be the fireman on a camelback, out there on the back of the engine alone, and with almost no shelter in case of bad weather. Of course he could see where the placement of the engineer higher up and midway along the length of the boiler could be an advantage in a switching locomotive. It would give the engineer a much better view of things, especially anything in front of the locomotive, than with the customary rear-cab configuration. Rob took some photos of Casey posing with the old camelback switcher, with both his own camera and with Casey's Instamatic. He was glad to see that his friend was finally looking a bit more chipper. Perhaps the curse of the six red cabooses had finally been put to rest.

Although food and drink were not allowed in any of the display areas at the RMoP, there did turn out to be a kind of "break area" located by the rest rooms. This cordoned off area had a few vending machines and a couple of small tables inside the building. There was also a door leading to a small fenced off area outside where visitors could sit at a picnic table and enjoy their vending machine fare while viewing the vintage locomotives and rolling stock in the train yard.

At one point during the morning Rob and Casey found themselves sitting in the outdoor picnic area, sharing a table with Sam and Mark. The rest of the SVRR crew was touring the diesel locomotive displays, and those held little interest for the four boys at the table. The four young men chatted as they sipped their sodas and snacked on vending machine output.

"I never have understood the fascination some folks have for diesel locomotives," said Sam.

"Yep," said Casey. "They're just Mack trucks on rails... boring."

"They're supposed to be more efficient than steam locomotives," said Mark.

"Well sure," said Rob, "everyone knows why the great conversion from steam power to diesel power occurred in the 1940s and 50s. But that doesn't make diesels any more interesting, at least compared to classic steamers."

"True," said Sam. "Sometimes I wish I lived in more interestng times. It seems like a lot of the coolest stuff, like steam locomotives, went out of style before I was even born."

"It does sometimes seem that way," said Casey. Mark and Rob both nodded their agreement with that sentiment.

"So Sam," said Rob, trying for a change of subject and dying to ask a certain question, "why did you push your dad so far yesterday?"

Sam laughed a hollow, bitter laugh, "Yeah, that wasn't too swift on my part, was it?"

"But why?" said Casey.

"I get bored," said Sam. He looked around to make sure that Thomas and Donald were not within earshot. "Driving my dad crazy helps pass the time. Usually I can keep him simmering for weeks without getting more than the occasional cuff on the ear or a couple of open handed swats on the seat of my pants."

"That's not how it worked out yesterday," said Rob.

"You're telling me!" said Sam, shaking his head sadly. "The problem with keeping my dad's boiler at maximum pressure without having it blow is that it's a delicate balancing act. Yesterday I blew it... big time."

"So all of it was deliberate?" said Casey, "the hat, the shoes, the camera?"

"Not everything," said Mark. He was grinning evilly at his friend.

"Yeah, not everything," said Sam. "The hat and the shoes were deliberate. I knew that would keep dad near the breaking point for a while. Then the plan was to back off for a day or two, possibly even until we got to Philadelphia."

"So why did you do the camera thing?" said Casey.

"That was an accident," said Sam, shaking his head sadly. "A real accident. I never meant to leave the camera behind. I just forgot."

"And that pushed your dad over the edge?" said Rob. That explained why Sam looked so terrified when his dad got back on the train with the camera. He was really scared because he had fucked up.

"Yep," said Sam. "That's the problem with keeping him that close to the point of blowing up. If I make a real mistake like the camera thing the results can be very painful, and humiliating."

"That's one dangeous game you're playing," said Casey.

Mark snorted, "I've been trying to tell him that for months, but he doesn't listen."

"That was just a simple mistake," said Sam. "I can control the situation."

"Yeah," said Mark in a soft voice, "like you were controlling your bladder during the whipping in Groff's Grove yesterday."

Sam laughed quietly but sarcastically, "Hey, buddy. At least I haven't been arrested on this trip."

"True," admitted Mark.

Sam continued quietly, "And you looked like you were real close to joining the Wet Pants Club when the cop uncuffed you."

"Also true," said Mark. "I was getting worried that you idiots were gonna stand around gabbing all night and leave me in there long enough to create a new lake in the back seat of that cruiser. When I bumped into the waiter I didn't really have to go yet. But after all the excitement and then walking for a while I really did need to go. I had just started looking for a private spot to take a leak when that goofy cop started chasin' me."

"Yeah," said Casey. "That guy makes Barney Fife look like a candidate for Mensa."

"Speaking of Southern geniuses," said Mark, "Where did you get all this 'signs' nonsense from, Casey?"

"It's just a talent I have," said Casey, modestly.

Sam and Mark exchanged glances and laughed. Sam said, "Yeah, right. Talent."

As the two friends continued laughing, Casey started to get annoyed. "What exactly is so funny?"

"That's not what Donald thinks," said Mark, between laughs.

"Oh," said Casey, "and what would you two know about what Donald thinks of me?"

"My dad told us," said Sam. "Last night after he got back from his walk and from smoking cigars with Donald."

"Really?" said Casey.

"Yep," said Mark. "Thomas told us all about what Donald really thinks of your 'talent'. Donald says that your predictions come true barely half the time, but that you and Rob only remember the times when they come true. You tend to forget about all the times that you were wrong about a 'sign'."

"He called it 'selective memory', or something like that," said Sam. "You only remember events that confirm your belief in the whole signs thing, and forget events that would tend to disprove your ability in that area."

"That's a load of bullshit," said Rob. "I try to discourage Casey from making those signs predictions. So why would I want to forget evidence that might help me convince him to stop doing it?"

Mark shrugged, "Maybe you just think you want Casey to stop with the signs, but secretly you want him to continue."

"Oh sure," said Rob, rollng his eyes. "That makes complete sense. So, Mark, I take it you're blaming all your woes from last night on Casey?"

"No," said Mark. "Not all of them. The signs garbage certainly didn't help my state of mind, but Casey didn't cause me to panic when I tripped over... or rather under... that waiter. I managed to do that on my own."

"Fair enough," said Rob. "But once you stopped panicking and calmed down, why didn't you just come back to the Iron Horse Inn?"

"I was too embarrassed, I guess," said Mark. "I was kind of hoping if Thomas calmed down it would go easier for me later back at the motel."

"So you were headed back to the motel?" said Casey.

"I guess," said Mark. "Honestly I didn't start out planning that. But once I realized I was headed in that direction it seemed like a better idea than going back to the restaurant. If nothing else, if I had made it all the way back there my whipping would have been more private in our caboose."

"Yeah," said Rob. "You do know that Thomas wasn't really that angry with you until Barney Fife told us how you fled from him and ran into traffic?"

"Yes, he knows," said Sam. "I told him about that while dad was out smoking with Donald last night."

"Hey," Mark shrugged. "I didn't know about all that. All I knew was that I had just watched the man turn my best friend's derriere into mincemeat. I wanted no part of that treatment for my own rear end."

"Speaking of threats to our posteriors, Rob," said Sam. "Where does your dad get off giving my dad a spanking paddle as a gift?"

"Yeah!" said Mark. "It's a nasty looking sucker, too. Board of Education? No kidding! It's made of solid hardwood and a lot thicker than those cheap pine paddles you see at Stuckeys. That thing is one terrifying ass-buster! What's the deal?"

"Sorry guys," said Rob. "But it was definitely not my idea to buy that paddle or to give it to Thomas. My dad got one of the stupid things for himself too, you know. The Attitude Adjuster."

"You think we're happy about this bullshit?" said Casey. "We are definitely not!"

"That's right," said Rob. "And as far as the Amish craftsmanship goes, what do you expect? They don't build stuff flimsy and cheap. This has to be the worst vacation spot for a kid's parents to buy a spanking paddle. I'm just praying I never get a dose of my dad's new Amish hardwood paddle."

"Amen to that," said Sam. Mark and Casey added their 'Amens' of support for that prayer as they all got up to throw away their trash and rejoin the rest of the group.

Rob Chandler was a believing Christian, so he knew that all his prayers were answered. At the age of fourteen Rob was mature enough to realize that sometimes the answer to his prayers was "no". He was even prepared to admit that on occasion he had been better off not getting what he had prayed for, but instead getting what a higher and much wiser power decided he should have.

On the other hand, this was bullshit! Rob lay there across the open tailgate of his father's Mercury Marquis Colony Park station wagon, his upper body in the cargo bay as he stared straight ahead at the unopened box of Whoopie Pies his father had purchased at breakfast. Rob was seething with anger: at Kenny for freaking out and landing them in this mess, and at himself and Casey for not communicating better with Kenny and heading all this off before it got started.

Rob could feel the paddle now, his father's brand new Attitude Adjuster paddle made by Amish craftsmen from some unknown hardwood. His father was rubbing the hardwood board over the seat of Rob's white Fruit of the Loom briefs while he lectured his eldest son on the reasons for his impending pain. And boy, were the reasons stupid.

Anyone who had heard Kenny's whining in the past 24 hours was well aware that the little brat was upset about Casey's signs prediction revolving around the "six red cabooses" situation. Rob had actually sympathized with his little brother's viewpoint without, unforunately, ever realizing the full implications of and reasons for Kenny's anger. Until just a few minutes ago Rob had thought that Kenny was aware that his spanking on Monday evening before dinner had counted as the little guy's "red caboose" for the purposes of Casey's prediction.

Unfortunately that turned out not to be the case. It was now apparent that Kenny had been even more nervous about the pending deadline mentioned by Casey during their talk in Groff's Grove the previous day than Mark, Casey and Rob himself had been. Of course this didn't make a lick of sense since during that same discussion it had been specifically mentioned that Mark, Rob and Casey owned the three cabooses still in danger. Not that sense or logic needed to enter into it when you were talking about what Kenny Chandler believed. Rob had found his little brother to be completely impervious to logical thought on several occasions in the past.

Rob felt a squeeze as Kenny nervously reacted to a new sensation. Rob was holding Kenny's left hand in his own right hand. He looked right and saw the panicked look on his little brother's face as he lay there next to him over the tailgate. Tears were already streaming down the poor little guy's face as Donald rubbed his new paddle over the seat of the white briefs worn by his youngest son. To say that Rob had mixed feelings about his little brother Kenny at that moment would be a tremendous understatement. Of course he always loved the little guy no matter what and would never want to see him hurt. On the other hand he was really pissed off at the fact that Kenny's insanity had landed them all here in position to get their butts blistered by Donald's new paddle.

For whatever reason, Kenny had not understood that he was already in the clear on the whole cabooses/signs situation. The fact that their father had also specifically told Kenny twice in the past 24 hours that as a long as he behaved himself he would not be paddled also failed to penetrate the kid's thick skull. So on the way out of the very nice restaurant where they had just enjoyed a delicious lunch Kenny snapped.

The boys had walked out to the car while the adults stayed behind to straighten out their bill - apparently there had been some irregularity. Meanwhile out in the parking lot Kenny, with no provocation whatsoever, had begun attacking Casey - kicking and punching him. Oh, and cursing him out, too. Of course Casey was taken completely by surprise by this unexpected attack and was slow to respond. But eventually both Casey and Rob had tried to subdue Kenny and get him to stop the attacks. In their surprise and alarm, and in response to Kenny's stream of profanity, both teens also made use of some profanity. Meanwhile the other three boys in the group looked on in stunned amazement at this completely unexpected turn of events.

Things had gone downhill rather quickly when Donald and Thomas had emerged from the restaurant only to find what appeared to be a bullying situation. It looked like Casey and Rob were beating up on Kenny. In fact it was the raw profanity being used by all three boys (including, unfortunately, the "f-word") that set the seal on their fates as far as Donald was concerned. Of course once the fight was broken up all six boys were questioned. In the end Donald wasn't interested in who had started the fight or why. The fact that the three boys had been fighting in public and swearing "like sailors" was indisputable.

Donald had clearly been really close to clobbering all three boys for some time, but so far the man had issued only warnings. Rob wasn't sure how big a straw it would have taken to break the "camel's back" of his father's patience, but unfortunately this incident dropped the metaphorical equivalent of an anvil on that poor camel. It's back never stood a chance. All three defendants: Kenneth Martin Chandler, age 11, Robert Donald Chandler, age 14, and Raymond Casey Jones, Jr., age 14 were summarily convicted of fighting and public profanity and sentenced to immediate public paddlings on their underpants.

It had therefore come as no surprise to anyone in their group when Donald lowered the back window on the tailgate of his station wagon and dropped the tailgate. He ordered the three convicted boys to drop their shorts and bend over the end of the tailgate while he retrieved his new paddle. Rob ended up in the middle of the tailgate with Kenny to his right and Casey to his left. The boys had wordlessly decided to hold hands. Rob would be able to exchange comforting hand squeezes with his little brother and his best friend as they rode out the paddlings they were about to receive. Damn it! Six down and zero to go. Casey was right about a sign yet again!

Rob realized that the diners at that end of the restaurant with window seats had a birds-eye view of the upcoming action. Anyone in the parking lot on that side of the building was also treated to an amazing sight. Three boys bent over the tailgate of a large station wagon, their briefs-clad backsides presenting perfect targets for the hardwood spanking paddle wielded by the angry man who approached them and began to lecture the boys on their behavior.

As he lectured, Donald rubbed the paddle gently across the seats of the briefs worn by the doomed boys. It was almost like he was introducing the hardwood board to the cloth covered seats it would soon be slamming into at high speed.

He began on the left, rubbing the board gently over the seat of the light blue Hanes briefs worn by 14-year-old Casey. Rob felt Casey's right hand lightly squeeze his own left hand, betraying his friend's nervousness as the paddle introduced itself to his waiting backside. Rob couldn't help wondering how many of the stripes from Casey's switching the previous day would be visible below the briefs. It would depend, of course, on how much the briefs rode up as Casey bent over the tailgate. Chances are that at least part of the double stripe down in the crease between the boy's buttocks and thighs would be visible. It was a dead certainty that the angry welt where the tip of the switch landed on the top of his right thigh was clearly visible.

Rob could feel the paddle now, his father's brand new Attitude Adjuster paddle made by Amish craftsmen from some unknown hardwood. Donald was rubbing the hardwood board gently over the seat of Rob's white Fruit of the Loom briefs while he lectured his eldest son on the reasons for his impending pain. The rubbing of the board on the seat of his briefs could almost be described as soothing, were it not for the certain knowledge that the paddle's upcoming visits would be anything but soothing. Rob's only consolation was that at least he wasn't going to be paddled on top of stripes from a switching like Casey was. It had been several months since Rob had last been made to bend over in his father's home office/studio for a dose of the old family strap. His 14-year-old backside was unblemished, although it wouldn't stay that way for long.

Rob felt a squeeze as Kenny nervously reacted to a new sensation. Rob was holding Kenny's left hand in his own right hand. He looked right and saw the panicked look on his little brother's face as he lay there next to him over the tailgate. Tears were already streaming down the poor little guy's face as Donald rubbed his new paddle over the seat of the white Fruit of the Loom briefs worn by his youngest son. Kenny's 11-year-old backside had been spanked the night before last, but it had only been a hand spanking. Kenny's pre-pubescent bottom should be white and unmarked as it waited for the unwanted attentions of the big hardwood paddle.

Although Rob found his father's pre-spanking lectures boring and not worth listening to or remembering, he was not anxious for the lecture to end. Because that would signal the end of the paddle gently rubbing briefs and the beginning of the paddle swatting bottom cheeks with awesome force. Rob felt his bottom tingle in anticipation of coming pain.

A sudden mighty Crrraaacckkk!! echoed across the parking lot. Kenny yelled and squeezed Rob's hand very hard. Showtime! Two more sturdy cracks of the hardwood paddle on pre-pubescent boy bottom soon followed. These caused Kenny to howl and start sobbing noisily.

As Rob heard and sensed his father move into position behind him he gathered himself, bound and determined to keep from yelling out or crying for as long as he could manage it. Crrraaacckkk!! Whoa! That fucking hardwood paddle hurts! The second and third Cracks of the paddle on his suddenly burning bottom just added fuel to the fires burning in his twin cheeks. Except for a single gasp of surprise on the first swat, Rob had managed to stay silent through his first set of three swats. As he glanced over at Casey he felt a single tear run down his left cheek. Damn! Casey probably saw it before he turned to face front.

Crrraaacckkk!! Rob saw Casey react, his eyes shutting as if to shut out the pain radiating from his wounded posterior. The second and third swats echoed across the parking lot and Casey's head jerked slightly on the third swat, but he made no sound. As Donald moved back down the line to give Kenny his second dose of swats, Casey and Rob exchanged glances and squeezed each other's hands in solidarity. They would both hang on as long as they could before yelping or crying.

Crrraaacckkk!! As Kenny's little bottom absorbed its second trio of swats he howled piteously and started bawling by the end. Rob squeezed his brother's hand, offering what little comfort he could in this situation.

Rob's brain was trying to tell him that this macho shit was stupid. He should just give into the pain like Kenny had. All hanging on quietly would do would be to make Donald give him more swats than the minimum necessary. Crrraaacckkk!! Fucking hell! When the swats hurt this badly, even the minimum number was way too damned many. But the testosterone surging through his system wouldn't let Rob off that easily. Jesus H. Tapdancing Christ! He and Casey were best friends, but they competed at everything. Not only would Casey know if Rob acted like a little pussy and gave in too quickly, but so would the three other boys in their group who were watching them, not to mention any other boys watching from inside the restaurant. "Ooooohhh."

Damn it! The sixth swat got Rob to make an audible sound. He wasn't bawling yet, but he could feel tears welling up behind his eyes. A lake full of tears that was trying to bust down the dam of his courage. Mustn't give in, at least not before Casey does. Crrraaacckkk!! No sound yet from Casey. Rob turned to look at his friend just as the fifth swat connected with the blue briefs. He could tell that Casey was very close to crying. He was hoping that Casey would cry on the sixth swat, because Rob was certain that he wasn't gonna make it through another three swats without bawling. "Aaaahhhhh!" Casey yelped audibly on the sixth whack. When his friend turned to face him, Casey was crying, tears streaming down his face.

Rob squeezed his friend's hand to comfort him, while secretly he was relieved. At least he hadn't been the first teen to openly cry. Unfortunately he realized that he would probably be the first teen to start bawling. And he was. Rob yelped on every swat from the seventh swat on, and he was bawling after the ninth swat. Casey was also bawling after his third set of three swats. Both teens were crying as hard as Kenny was by the end, but at least their sense of honor and bravery had been satisfied. No sane person could expect 14-year-olds to take a paddling like this without crying, but they had both done the best they could.

Rob wasn't sure if his father was swinging the paddle harder at the end, but it sure as hell felt that way to his scorched backside. In the end Kenny got four sets of three swats, while Rob and Casey were treated to five sets of three swats each. In fact Rob had been very rudely surprised when Kenny was skipped on the last round. He actually screamed as the lucky thirteenth swat hit home when he had been expecting another minute to gather himself while Kenny was swatted.

Eventually the paddlings were over and Donald told them they could get up and get dressed when they were ready. Rob was torn. He desperately want to reach back and gently massage the blazing inferno that his posterior had become, but it actually hurt too much... he was afraid to touch it.

After a few minutes all three sobbing boys were able to pull up their shorts and rub their wounded rumps. At Donald's suggestion all three climbed in the cargo deck of the wagon and lay on their tummies for the ride back to the motel. Donald dropped Thomas and his three lads off at the museum. He told Thomas that they would be back in about an hour.

The short ride to the Red Caboose Motel passed in silence. Rob wondered what would happen when they got there. The fact that Donald carried his paddle into the caboose made him very nervous, and he could see that he was not alone. In fact Kenny was crying again.

Donald ordered all three boys to strip completely, down to their birthday suits. They piled their clothes on their bunks. Meanwhile the man unwrapped three of those spare little bars of motel soap and lathered them up under the bathroom faucet. The boys were informed that they would spend 30 minutes of corner time with the soap in their mouths. After that Donald would decide if they needed another dose of paddle swats to drive home the message.

Rob felt a sudden, urgent need to pee when his father mentioned the possibility of more paddle swats. In fact each boy was offered a chance to relieve himself in the toilet and wash his hands before 'opening up' and getting a lathery little bar of motel soap placed in his mouth. All three of them did in fact pee before being soaped. Rob felt a bit embarrassed having to pee while his father watched him patiently. It had been nearly 10 years since he had peed under adult supervision. It was kind of humilating, but considering what had just happened in the restaurant parking lot and what might happen after his corner time was over, peeing while his father watched was likely to be the least unpleasant thing that happened to him during that particular stretch of time.

Once each of the boys had been effectively gagged by their bar of soap Donald led them back out into the main room. "Okay guys, here's the deal. Despite all my warnings to work together, you little twerps managed to not communicate so well that you got yourselves into a public fight, not to mention swearing like drunken sailors."

Rob gulped in fear, trying not to swallow too much soap in the process.

"So I'm gonna give you all 30 minutes to stare at the wall and suck on soap while you think of a good reason why I shouldn't give another, even harder, bare bottomed dose of the paddle. Each of you will be required to give me an answer in 30 minutes. Nothing fancy, this isn't an essay. But I want you each to tell me one thing that you plan to do to improve your communication with the other boys in this family - that includes you too, Casey. Just tell me one thing that you think you could have done to prevent what happened today. The kind of thing you could do to try and help make sure that nothing like what happened in that restaurant parking lot ever happens again."

"Do you guys understand the assignment?" Rob nodded, and so did Casey and Kenny. "Good! Now, hands behind your heads, laced together." Donald gently guided each boy to a place along the wall where he was told to keep his nose against the wall while he thought.

Rob suddenly found himself with an extreme close up view of the vertical slatted wallcovering in an off-white color. It was boring, but boring could be good since he desperately needed to think about anything but the intense pain radiating from the furnace that his ass had just been turned into. The Great Northern caboose the other half of their group was staying in had wide wall slats in real wood grain. That would have been far too much of a reminder of the paddle that had just lit up his backside, and might be adding to the flames all too soon if he couldn't come up with a good answer for his father.

Having the yucky soap in his mouth didn't help the thinking process at all. The soap made him salivate, and then he needed to swallow more of the yucky suds/saliva periodically. Rob wondered who the fuck had come up with the idea of washing a kid's mouth out with soap for swearing? Probably some woman. His mother certainly took care of such duties when he or Kenny were caught swearing back home. Granted, his parents almost never swore, so at least they weren't hypocrits. He could understand them not wanting their children to develop the habit of rampant swearing. But seriously, he was 14-years-old now. So was Casey for that matter. Shouldn't they be able to swear now and then, for fuck sake? Apparently not, at least according to his mother, and to Casey's mother.

Rob suddenly realized that he had no idea how much time had passed of his 30 minutes and he had no answer yet for his father. What the fuck should he say? More importantly, what did his father want him to say? He thought and he thought. He swallowed some more yucky soap, then he thought some more. Eventually Rob thought of something to say to his father to try to save his own ass. It had to work. There was no way his blazing backside could possibly absorb another 15 swats of that paddle, especially on the bare.

A short time later he thought he heard his father speaking softly somewhere in the room, and then he heard Kenny moan. Oh God, he prayed that the little brat wasn't gonna get more of the paddle. True, the brat probably did deserve it, but Rob hated to see his little brother in real pain, no matter how well deserved the pain might be.

Rob gasped when he felt the paddle lightly rubbing against his burning bottom. "Follow me," whispered Donald. Rob turned and followed his father towards the bathroom. A quick glance around the room showed that Casey was still in position, nose to the wall. Kenny, on the other hand, was laying on the queen bed. He was face down with a spare pillow under his hips, which had the effect of raising his already bruised backside up as a juicy target for the paddle. The fact that Kenny was sobbing softly into the covers of the bed was disturbing. More disturbing were the two other spare pillows laying next to Kenny's. Rob prayed that he wouldn't fail his father's test too and end up lying over one of those pillows waiting for his second dose of the paddle.

Rob followed Donald into the bathroom, and then the man closed the door. Donald said, "Go ahead and take the soap out of your mouth."

Rob took the gooey bar of soap out of his mouth. Unfortunately he had bitten into it a few times so some of his teeth were basically caked in soap. His mouth was a disgusting mess. Donald handed him a paper cup. "Here, wash that crud out of your mouth, as much as you can anyway."

Rob filled the cup and washed out his mouth repeatedly. He got the worst of it out, but some was still stuck to his teeth. It seemed like he was just gonna have to live with the taste of soap for a while. "Done?" said Donald.

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Now what is your answer to my question?"

"Well, sir. The main problem was a failure to communicate. I knew that Kenny was upset about the whole signs and cabooses thing, which he really shouldn't have been since he already had been spanked on this trip. I should have made sure he realized that he was in the clear so that this whole thing in the parking lot would never have happened."

"Interesting," said Donald, a neutral expression on his face.

"Was that okay, Dad?"

"It was... interesting. Let's go back out, and no talking once we are out there. You don't speak until I ask you to, understand?"

"Yes, sir," said Rob. He had a sudden sinking feeling that he had failed. Dear God, he couldn't take another fifteen swats of that damned paddle!

Sure enough, Donald guided him to the bed, and signalled that he should lay down over the pillow next to Kenny. He climbed onto the bed and positioned his hips over the pillow. As he settled into place he realized that his still-throbbing backside was perfectly placed for his second dose of the paddle. He took Kenny's right hand in his left and they squeezed each other's hands, trying to comfort each other as they waited for their execution.

A minute later Rob heard the bathroom door close. Obviously Casey was washing the soap out of his mouth and answering Donald's question. Hopefully his friend would do better than he and Kenny had on the oral test.

"I can't take no more of that paddle, Robby," whispered Kenny.

"I know, Munchkin," whispered Rob. "Neither can I. All we can do is try to be as brave as we can. Dad loves us. He won't really hurt us. I'm praying that he's just trying to scare the crap out of us."

"Me too," said Kenny. He squeezed Rob's hand. "I love you, Robby."

Rob squeezed back, "I love you too, Kenny. Always."

A few minutes later the bathroom door opened and soon Casey wordlessly climbed onto the bed and settled his hips across the pillow on Rob's right. Rob exchanged looks with Casey, who looked as sad and defeated as he felt. They held hands again. Whatever doom awaited him, Rob would meet it holding hands with his little brother and his best friend.

"Okay," said Donald. "You had some interesting answers. Let's see what they add up to. I'm gonna ask you each to answer my question again so the others can hear your answer. You will give the same answer that you gave me in the bathroom. I'm gonna rub the paddle on the backside of the boy I'm questioning. The other two boys will remain silent while this is going on. So basically, if you don't feel the paddle on your rear end you will keep quiet. Does everyone understand... you can answer by nodding or shaking your head."

Rob nodded his head. He understood the instructions. Donald said, "Good, let's get started then. Kenneth, please give us your answer."

"Yes, sir," said Kenny. "I said that it wasn't right that I attacked Casey just because he made that prediction thingy. It didn't have to be right, and even though I didn't know that spanking on Monday counted, that still was no reason to attack Casey. I should have talked to Casey or Robby more, or to you Dad. To find out more about what was going on."

"Interesting," said Donald. "What do you two think of that? You may nod or shake your head to answer. Does that seem like it would have helped our situaton here?"

Rob nodded his head. He could see that Casey nodded as well. "Very well," said Donald. Then Rob felt the paddle rubbing his backside. It felt cool against his tortured skin, but he couldn't help clenching his bottom in fear. "Robert, please give us your answer."

"Yes, sir. I said that the main problem was a failure to communicate. I knew that Kenny was upset about the whole Casey's signs prediction, and the six cabooses thing. He really shouldn't have been that upset since he already had been spanked on this trip. I should have made sure he realized that he was in the clear. If he wasn't worried about the signs maybe this whole thing in the parking lot would never have happened."

"Interesting," said Donald. "What do you two think of that? You may nod or shake your head to answer. Does that seem like it would have helped our situaton here?"

Rob could see Kenny nod, and Casey must have. "Very well," said Donald. The paddle was suddenly, and thankfully, gone from the proximity of Rob's backside. He fervently hoped it would remain far away. "Raymond," said Donald, "please give us your answer."

"Yes, sir," said Casey. "I said that I should have realized that if Kenny was so upset about my 'six red cabooses' prediction that there must be a reason. I should have found out the reason so that he wouldn't get himself or others in trouble, or even just so that he wouldn't worry needlessly."

"Interesting," said Donald. "What do you two think of that? You may nod or shake your head to answer. Does that seem like it would have helped our situaton here?"

Rob nodded his head, and he saw Kenny nod his head as well. "Okay," said Donald. "I agree with all of you. All three of you came up with good ideas. I think I can trust you three not to get involved in any more public fights due to lack of communication. So no additional paddling will be needed."

Rob sighed in relief, and he heard similar sighs from both Kenny and Casey.

"I'm not quite as convinced on the profanity front," said Donald. "I'd like to think I will never have to punish any of you for swearing again. But somehow I'm not so sure on that one. Oh, well. It's entirely up to you. Keep your foul language to yourselves and you will never have to choke on soap again."

Before letting them get dressed again, Donald called each boy over to him for a hug, and to whisper something into his ear. Donald whispered to Rob, "Your conduct today disappointed me, Robert. But remember that it's your behavior that I was upset with, not you. I believe that you will make a fine man someday, and an excellent father to my grandchildren. Most days I'm very proud of you. Let's get back to that place tomorrow."

"Yes, sir," said Rob. "I love you, Dad."

"I love you too, Rob."

The foursome snacked on the Whoopie Pies before heading back over to the RMoP. Rob tried the Red Velvet kind and found that they tasted a lot like chocolate, with just a hint of motel soap. Sitting was a bit difficult for the rest of the day, but walking around the museum was bearable.

The new Amish spanking paddles saw no further action on that trip. Casey made no further predictions about anything. Both of those things made everybody quite happy.

Rob decided that he needed to reassess his opinion of Sam Arden. Some people around the club called him an evil genius. Well the genius part had pretty much been disproved. As for evil, Rob was just glad that his little brother had not heard any of Sam's talk about how he deliberately worked to drive his father crazy. Kenny was far too good at driving people nuts as it was, Rob sure wouldn't want the little brat to get any lessons on the subject from an expert.

The visit to Philadephia was a lot of fun for all. Rob was moved by their visit to Independence Hall, where a new nation had been declared 208 years ago. Rob tried to imagine the men who had met there and who had the balls to declare their independence from the most powerful nation on earth. The Liberty Bell looked like... well, it looked like a bell with a crack in it. Rob tried to imagine the Liberty Bell as the bell on a locomotive. How big would that locomotive have to be? Pretty damned big!

After spending Thursday touring historic sites in Philadelphia the group checked into the George Washington Motor Lodge in King of Prussia, PA., right near the Philadelphia exit from the Pennsylvania Turnpike. It was a traditional motor lodge style of motel where the guests could park in front of their rooms. The SVRR gang had adjacent rooms so it was easy to unload their luggage into the rooms.

They spent most of Friday at the Franklin Institute, which was an amazing place. It featured all kinds of kid-friendly science experiments and lots of amazing exhibits. The gang did get to walk through the giant human heart. But Rob was most impressed by Baldwin #60000, the experimental 4-10-2 steam locomotive that was set up in the Train Factory exhibit. It had been the 60,000th locomotive built at the Baldwin Locomotive Works in Eddystone, Pennsylvania in 1926, at the height of the steam railroading era. Originally intended as the prototype of a new class of large locomotive, the design was never accepted by the railroads and the prototype was sold to the Franklin Institute in 1933.

Okay, it was a bit disappointing that Baldwin #60000 was not actually under live steam. But they did have it set up so that it made noise and fake steam would shoot out as it moved back and forth on a short stretch of track under hydraulic power. The best part was that some lucky kids could actually ride in the cab of the huge steamer for these short trips. The boys of the SVRR group turned out to be six of those lucky kids.

Early Saturday morning the group checked out of their motel and began the long trip back to central Ohio. Rob and Casey played license plate bingo on the way home and this time, amazingly enough, Casey actually spotted a license plate from Hawaii. He didn't consider it a sign of anything, except maybe good luck. Sam looked bored for most of the trip, but he didn't seem to be going out of his way to annoy his father. Maybe the kid had changed, at least a little. The final two or three hours of the trip were punctuated by Kenny's frequent query, "Are we there, yet?" Some things never change.

Author Note: This is the final episode of the Scioto Valley Railroad road trip story. There will be at least one more episode that will provide some details of the lives and adventures of Rob and his family and friends back home in Ohio. It will also cover some unexpected fallout from the trip itself.

Dedication: I spent many happy hours of my childhood engaged in railfan and model railroading activities with my father. This series is dedicated to the memory of my dad, who was a wonderful man and a great father.

The author welcomes comments from readers. You can contact Bobby Watson by e-mail at: mrbwatson (at) gmail.com
Please be patient - Bobby doesn't always check his e-mail every day.