Author Note: This is part 2 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 members 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...

It was a grumpy group eating their breakfast in the Red Caboose Motel Restaurant the next morning. A lot of people hadn't slept well. No, the problem wasn't the beds in the cabooses, which had turned out to be quite comfortable. The problem was that Mother Nature had come calling quite early in the form of a line of storms that slammed into Lancaster County before dawn with window-rattling thunder that woke everyone up and promised lousy weather for their first day in Strasburg.

Rob Chandler watched his little brother pick at his breakfast as rain lashed against the windows of the dining car. Usually Kenny liked pancakes, but the 11-year-old was in one of his moods again. The little brat hadn't even made it three hours after his public spanking the previous evening before getting involved in another argument with their father.

This time it was over the bunk beds. Kenny wanted to sleep in one of the top bunks. Unfortunately their father, Donald, was under the impression that Kenny still rolled out of bed at home on occasion. Kenny vehemently denied this accusation, but he wasn't gonna win that argument against his father. In the end Donald had asked Rob and his friend Casey to occupy both top bunks, which left Kenny with his choice of the two bottom bunks. The youngster fumed and fussed, but eventually he went to sleep in the lower bunk below where Casey was sleeping.

Rob was glad it had worked out that way. Normally he was happy to see his little brother spanked anytime... well, at least when Rob wasn't waiting to get his own backside blistered. But the previous day had been a very long and tiring one, with two spankings already on the books. Rob had fondled himself in the shower last night while remembering the two howling brats writhing and kicking over their father's laps while their buns were being well toasted. It had been the best orgasm that the young man had experienced in a while. All Rob wanted to do in the afterglow of that shower was watch some television to wind down and then get to sleep. So it had been a bit of Monday Night Baseball before heading off to dreamland.

After breakfast the group checked out the gift shop, which was heavy on railroading and Amish themes but otherwise had the usual overpriced and cheaply made junk. Eventually the gang gathered in the lobby where they scanned all the tourist trap brochures looking for a potential indoor activity to occupy their time until the storms cleared. Mark Rhinehart suggested finding out if Ghostbusters was still playing at any of the local theaters. This provoked groans and lots of "Who ya gonna call?" jokes. But the idea was vetoed by the adults since most members of the group had already seen that film. Besides, why bother going to the movies here when they can do that anytime back home? The prevaling sentiment was that they should do something that could only be done here in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania.

They eventually determined that the National Toy Train Museum was located directly behind the Red Caboose Motel property, at the other end of the property from the Strasburg Railroad tracks. The motel desk clerk on duty confirmed that that museum was all indoors and would make a fine way to kill a few hours until the storms cleared out, which they were expected to do later in the morning. As the group dashed through the rain to the museum, splashing through puddles as they went, Casey observed that there sure were a lot of railroad-themed businesses in a small area there in Strasburg.

It turned out that none of the major train layouts at the National Toy Train Museum were much larger than their own SVRR layout back home. But what the layouts lacked in size they more than made up for with variety. There were four serious operating layouts in the museum, one each in G Scale, O Scale, S Scale, and HO Scale. Several other smaller layouts were scattered around the museum in places like the Lionel exhibit. There were other quite rare toy trains on display, including some tin toy trains and even a few small scale live steam locomotives. Unfortunately none of the live steam models were operating that morning. Rob was a bit disappointed, but if they would get some cooperation from the weather they could be riding on a real full-sized steam train in a few hours.

The members of the SVRR group were not the only tourists who had found refuge from the weather in the National Toy Train Museum that morning. The place was fairly crowded considering the fact that it had just opened for the day. Kenny had started the day grumpy, but he seemed reasonably excited to see all the operating layouts in various scales and even some of the rarer toys and static models on display. The fact was that Kenny was typically the least well behaved child in whatever room he happened to occupy, but not that morning.

Having an incredibly bratty little brother made Rob more sensitive than most people to the signs of a pending punishment. There was a boy of about 8 or 9 years of age in a He Man tee shirt who had been acting atrociously for the better part of an hour, and that was just how long Rob had been seeing and/or hearing it. This kid had a bad attitude and was pushing and shoving other kids to get a better view of the layouts. Eventually he started banging on the buttons that operated the interactive features on some of the displays, and finally the brat was extremely rude to the museum volunteer who asked him very politely to go easy on the display push buttons.

Near the end even Kenny had started watching the 'He Man Kid' situation closely. This puzzled Rob at first until he recognized He Man Kid as the boy from the family of five that had witnessed Kenny and Jeff being spanked at the motel the night before. On top of that He Man Kid and his sisters had laughed at Kenny and Jeff in the motel restaurant when the SVRR gang had first been seated for dinner. With that in mind Rob didn't really blame his brother for gloating when He Man Kid's father had finally had enough and dragged the little rascal over to a convenient bench near the Lionel display.

The man sat down, hauled his struggling enfant terrible over his knee and yanked the boy's shorts and undies down at the back, baring his bottom for action. He Man Kid's complaints and protests quickly turned into yelps and howls as his father's strong hand was repeatedly applied in a brisk manner to his bare backside. The boy was outraged, kicking and struggling with all his might. Unfortunately his cartoon tee shirt did not actually imbue him with "the power of Greyskull", so he might have a case against somebody for false advertising. Meanwhile his bottom was soon quite red and his protests were replaced with pleas for his father to stop the spanking and solemn promises to be good.

The spanking provided some impromptu entertainment for the museum visitors while it lasted. Most of the other kids watched with an air of detached interest, while almost all the adults witnessing the spanking had looks on their faces that spoke volumes, with most of the volumes labeled "it's about time somebody taught that boy some manners".

When the man finally stopped spanking his son and released him the little guy popped to his feet and yanked his clothing back into place before settling in to rub his aching bottom through the seat of his shorts. At that point Kenny marched right up to the sobbing boy and said, "So, you thought it was funny last night when I was getting it? How funny is it now?"

Kenny was hardly the funniest kid that Rob knew, but he had to admit that his bratty brother had his moments. In this case Kenny's punch line to the spanking brought down the house... even He Man Kid's father was laughing, and the man looked like he needed a good laugh.

Overall, the museum proved a nice way to kill a few hours indoors while the storms raged outside. They had been nearly soaked on arrival, but their clothing dried off a bit as they toured the museum. Rob's pant legs were still quite damp by the time the weather finally decided to cooperate and the storms cleared out of the area by late morning. It looked like a steam train ride was in their immediate future.

Not only was there no snack bar or vending machines in the National Toy Train Museum, but food and drink were not even allowed in the building. So it was a very thirsty and hungry, not to mention damp, group that started walking back to the motel after the storms cleared. But they only made it half way...

"Oh, shit!" exclaimed Sam Arden. "I forgot my Reds hat!"

Sure enough, 12-year-old Sam was no longer wearing the Cincinnati Reds baseball cap that Rob remembered him wearing that morning.

"Watch your language, Sam!" said Thomas Arden.

"Sorry, Dad," said the crestfallen boy.

"Where did you last see the cap?" said Thomas. "In the museum?"

"Yes, sir."

"Alright," said Thomas. "I'll take the genius here to find his cap. Hopefully we'll only be a couple minutes."

"Okay," said Donald. "We'll take a look around at all the cabooses the motel has while we wait."

"Roger that," said Thomas. "Come on, Sam." He put his hand on the back of Sam's neck, "Your mother is right... you'd lose your head if it wasn't attached!"

"Sorry, Dad,"

As father and son walked back to the museum it occurred to Rob that Thomas's hand looked like it couldn't decide whether it wanted to pat Sam on the back in a comforting manner or grab the boy by the scruff of the neck. He felt sorry for Thomas. The former US Navy electrician's mate obviously loved his son, but the kid could be a royal pain in the ass.

Sam's absent-mindedness was legendary in Scioto Valley Railroad circles. If you were working under the layout table and needed someone to retrieve a part for you, Sam was the last person you would ask to fetch it. He'd invariably bring you the wrong part... if he returned at all. The boy was easily distracted on top of everything else. This combination helped the lad drive his family, friends, teachers and classmates crazy.

Rob had heard people around the club say that Sam was secretly some kind of evil genius who got off on annoying everyone by pretending to forget everything. Rob didn't see it that way. He thought Sam was just a very lazy but well-meaning kid who couldn't be bothered to make any effort when something bored him. Rob suspected that Sam was in model railroading for the same reason that he was... their fathers were seriously into the hobby. The difference was that Rob really did like railroads and model railroading... so did his little brother Kenny for that matter.

Over the past couple of years Rob had gotten the distinct impression that model railroads... and probably railroading in general... bored Sam. Whatever the reason for Sam's uncooperative behavior, the kid could be incredibly frustrating to deal with. Rob was glad he lived in a different school district from the Ardens and he only had to cope with Sam during SVRR club meetings... and of course this trip.

Rob suddenly realized that the others had walked off on their caboose tour and left him standing there in the parking lot alone with his thoughts. He hurried to catch up with them.

Rob pulled in next to Casey as the group stood admiring a bright red caboose dressed out in Norfolk & Western Railroad logos. The old N&W had once been the dominant railroad back in the Scioto Valley. In fact it was now part of the Norfolk Southern Railway system that still ran through the valley. Casey grinned as he saw his friend approaching, "The bad penny returns."

"I always do," said Rob, grinning, "like it or not." He ignored the disgusted grunt his little brother Kenny made at that point, as did the rest of the group.

Apparently it was taking longer to find Sam's cap than expected since they completed their caboose tour and ended up standing along the Strasburg Railroad tracks at the south edge of the motel property. The Red Caboose Motel had placed signs on their property along the Strasburg Railroad right of way advertising the motel and restaurant. They were clearly trying to drum up business from all the tourists who rode the Strasburg trains every day. Rob thought it was a pretty good idea.

"Did you notice something?" said Casey as the two teens moved a short distance away from the group.

"Notice what?"

"There are six red cabooses in the motel collection."

"No," said Rob, "I didn't bother to count them. Does that mean something special?"

"Hmm," said Casey. "I think it might be a sign."

"Oh, sweet Jesus! You and your signs."

"I'm serious."

"So am I!"

There was silence for nearly a minute, and unfortunately curiosity was eating Rob alive. Finally he said, "Okay, I suspect I'll regret this, but what sign?"

Casey had an odd, faraway look on his face. Finally he said, "There are six red cabooses in the motel collection..."

"Yes."

"There are six boys in our group."

Rob snorted, "You can call yourself a 'boy' if you want, but I'm a man, amigo."

"Right," said Casey. "Suit yourself."

There was another awkward silence. Casey always drove him nuts when he did this stuff, but once again he couldn't resist. "Okay, so there are six red cabooses and six of us 'young men'... what is the sign supposed to be?"

Casey got a crooked grin on his face, "It means.... two down and four to go."

"Huh?" Rob had no idea what Casey was talking about. The crooked grin never left his friend's face. Finally the meaning hit Rob like a bolt of lightning and he felt tingly all over, like he was charged with static electricity. "No way! Don't even joke about that!"

"Who says I'm joking?"

"Casey," said Rob, trying to control his irritation. "We are two of those four to go."

Casey nodded as he laughed bitterly. "Indeed we are."

"Listen, my friend," said Rob. "I don't know about you, but I do not plan to get spanked on this trip.... or ever again, really."

"Hah!" said Kenny, who had moved nearer to overhear the teen's conversation.

"Shut up, you little turd!" said Rob. "Get outta here before I clip you one!"

"Robert Donald Chandler!" said Donald. "What have I told you about threatening your brother and calling him rude names?"

"Sorry, Dad," said Rob. "Sorry, Kenny." Then he said quietly to Casey, "See what you did? You got me in trouble with my dad!"

"I got you in trouble?" said Casey, speaking at normal volume. "I don't remember forcing you to threaten your little brother."

Rob grumbled, "Yeah, okay. But it's easy enough for you talk about that kind of stuff. My dad is right here... who is gonna spank you?"

"Your dad," said Casey, with an air of that being the most obvious answer in the world.

"Right," said Rob. "What makes you think my dad would spank you?"

"My mother told him he could."

"She did?"

"Yep. She asked your father to take care of me on this trip and to treat me the same way he treats you... including punishing me if he thinks I deserve it."

"Really?" said Rob. He turned and looked at his father, who was looking right at him. Donald nodded an acknowledgment of Casey's statement. "Wow...."

Thomas eventually returned with Sam, who was once again wearing his Red's cap. Most members of the group still had damp clothing, especially pants legs, because of the soaking they had received running through the storms that morning. It was decided that they should all return to their rooms to change into dry clothes for the afternoon activities. They would meet at the car in 10 minutes and go to lunch.

Suddenly the interior of their Seaboard Coast Line caboose was like a locker room with all four guys stripping off their wet clothes. None of them had wet underpants so they stopped at their skivvies and picked out dry clothes to wear for the rest of the day. All four chose shorts and short-sleeved shirts. The three Chandlers covered their white briefs with cargo shorts in various colors while Casey hid his blue briefs under a pair of knee-length blue denim cutoffs. Donald and Kenny both wore sky blue polo shirts advertising the Scioto Valley Railroad. Casey put on a crimson tee shirt with 'ROLL TIDE' printed in white block letters on the front. Rob grinned. You can take the boy out of Alabama... but you can't take Alabama out of the boy. Rob eventually chose to wear his navy blue 'Still Plays With Trains' tee shirt to go along with his jade green cargo shorts.

Rob decided to bring his new camera along, a Minolta Auto Focus Freedom II 35mm 'point and shoot' camera, a 14th birthday gift from his grandparents. Rob liked his first camera and had learned how to operate it, but he was still getting used to taking his own photos. He had a habit of taking his new camera along and then forgetting to use it in situations where good photo opportunities might be available. Oh well, his dad was an avid photographer who was bringing along his Nikon SLR rig with a camera bag for extra lenses, filters and film. Rob could always get copies of any of his dad's photos if he really wanted. Kenny had shown little interest in photography so far, although Rob had shown his little brother the basics of operatng his new Minolta camera.

Casey brought along an old Kodak Hawkeye Instamatic camera his mother had given him. The camera was actually older than he was. In fact the old Instamatic had been used by his mother to take Casey's baby photos back in the day. Obviously this was not information that Casey shared with people. But Casey's mom had told Rob about it once when he was visiting their home, much to Casey's chagrin. Rob laughed about it at the time, but he would never embarrass his friend by repeating the story.

When they gathered at the car it became obvious that the other four members of the group had also opted for shorts and tee shirts since it was turning into a nice day after the morning storms. Thomas Arden and his youngest son, Jeff, had chosen to wear their blue SVRR shirts. Sam Arden was wearing a black Star Wars: Return of the Jedi tee shirt and Mark Rhinehart was wearing a navy blue shirt advertising the Museum of the United States Air Force in Dayton, Ohio.

Thomas had a Canon AE-1 SLR rig with a bag for lenses and accessories. Sam had a Canon Sure Shot 35mm 'point and shoot' camera. Rob wondered if Canon had offered some sort of family discount deal. Mark had a Kodak Colorburst 50 Instant Camera, so at least one member of the group would be taking pictures they could see right away. Apparently 9-year-old Jeff liked to ham it up when posing for pictures, but so far he had expressed no interest in learning to operate a camera.

The gang piled back into the big Mercury station wagon for the very short trip - just under a mile - to the parking lot at the Strasburg Railroad depot. According to the Strasburg Railroad brochures there was a full-service cafe as well as a lunch counter at the railroad station so the adults decided they would just eat lunch there to save time. There was still some hope that they could tour the Railroad Museum of Pennsylvania after returning from the train ride.

Sure enough, there was a Trackside Cafe in the main railroad station building at the Strasburg Railroad depot. According to the signage they served pizza and cheese steaks among other goodies. For being on the early end of lunch time the place didn't seem very crowded. Donald asked if they could get a table for eight. The young man greeting people said that would be no problem and three tables were quickly pushed to together to make one table for eight. There was a problem when the group actually tried to enter the cafe. The greeter said, "I'm sorry, sir, but state law requires shirts and shoes when dining in restaurants in Pennsylvania."

Donald was confused, "But we're all wearing shirts and shoes."

Rob spotted the problem at the same moment as the greeter placed his hand on Sam's shoulder. "I'm sorry sir, but this young man is not wearing shoes."

Sure enough, 12-year-old Sam was standing there in his stocking feet with a sheepish grin on his face. "Sorry, I took my shoes off in the car and forgot to put them back on."

Thomas practically growled as he advanced on his eldest son. "Why did you take your shoes off, Sam?"

"I always take my shoes off in the car, Dad." It was true, Sam always did that, and took lots of ribbing from any other kids riding with him about his stinky feet. That was yet another reason why Rob and Casey were glad to be riding back in the cargo deck of the station wagon on this trip.

"Sam," said Thomas, obviously barely in control of his temper, "It was only a one mile drive here. What were you thinking?"

"Sorry, dad. I forgot." Sam was acting contrite, but Rob could tell the kid was barely able to keep a smirk off of his face.

Thomas groaned in frustration... a dangerous sound. He turned to Donald. "Don, could you lend me the keys to your car so we can get this idiot's shoes?"

Donald handed over the keys and said, "We'll get seated and start looking at the menus."

"Absolutely," said Thomas, "we'll be back in a few minutes. Or at least I will." As he propelled Sam towards the door with a firm swat to the seat of the boy's shorts he said, "This one might end up in a shallow grave."

As the father and son left the cafe and headed for the parking lot there was no mistaking the posture of the man's hand - Thomas had Sam by the scruff of the neck (or at least the back of his shirt) and was marching him along as they spoke.

"You wouldn't really kill me, would you Dad?"

"No, of course not. But if you pull one more stunt like this today you'll get such a thrashing that you'll be eating your meals standing up... for a week! Do you read me, mister?"

"Loud and clear, sir."

Teaser: Our story will continue soon in the next episode, "Now Serving #3." No wait, the actual title will be "The Switching Yard." Unless the author decides to change it... yet again.

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.