Hobo Jungle

[penncentral8885]

Naaa,,There probably not,,,,,,,,But who cares!!!
I wish that was!,,,I'd be swining off one of those bad boys in the pic if it was!
No offence to the Mrs.(she claims I married her for her boobs!) but after the second child?,,,,Well you know,,,There still fine in my book though!!!

[2railjon]

Tramp, Just wanted to let you know, you're the greatest model railroading influence and drinking bro I've met. Thanks. I just can't believe you talked me into going brass. Never did I think I was ever going there. Well, here I am. And there's nothing else like it!!! These are the best of times, Cheers.

[hev52]

Man...........Those are some heavy lookin' Christmas Hooters. Do they hold candy canes too?

hev

[P&R Pete]

Dang german hobos can't hold their beer:

BERLIN (Reuters) - A German man drank too much, wet his bed and set fire to his apartment while trying to dry his bedding, police in the western town of Muelheim said Monday.

"He was too drunk to go to the toilet," said a police spokesman. "The next morning he put a switched-on hairdryer on the bed to dry it and left the apartment." When the 60-year-old returned, his home and belongings were in flames.

Firemen eventually put out the blaze.

So Jon, what was your son's vote on 'The Polar Express'?
We bought it yesterday too. and watched it as a family last night. Very cool. Leah brought down about 30 of her stuffed animals and lined them up on the backs of the sofas and chairs "so they could watch too".

[2railjon]

Pete, We loved it!!! I did'nt have any stuffed animals to line up like Leah, but I did have a dog and 3 cats on the couch with us for the show!!!! Was that tramp, Tramp or what!!!!!
Hey, it's beer-thirty!! Who's in?

[P&R Pete]

I'minI'minI'minI'minI'minI'minI'minI'minI'minI'minI'minI'min!!
I'm in.

Kinda looked like a cleaned-up Tramp!
That coffee looked like it tasted like the stuff he served me, too, when I visited him Downeast. Whatcha think, Dennis? You have to drink that stuff too?

The redhead liked the hot-chocolate scene.

They did a hell of a job re-creating that train! "Trains" magazine did an article on the Berk they used for the dimensions and the sounds

[Tramp]

"Brining, brining, brining." Oh. Hey. Good to see you guys.

[2railjon]

Brining with brew or celery sticks? Good to see you as well!

[P&R Pete]

Tramp, did you manage to slip past the Good-Taste Police at the Free Range Farm one more time? What 'd you have to do this year to pull it off?

[P&R Pete]

A tip of the tin cup to all the hobos!

Thanksgiving Day. This is the day the Jungle was born, 5 long years ago, and she's still chugging along with the full load of water and coal that never seem to diminish, like Trampys never-ending beer bottle.
Ain't that somethin'.

While I'm feeling thankful, want to thank Bill fer letting our sorry asses park here on the edge of his trainyard.
Also like to take a moment and remember a few hobos that ain't been around the fire for awhile, and hope that this day finds them settled and content, and that'd be Jackie, Willie, Dufus, Stiff, and RR Rocky. Probably think of a couple more soon as I sign off. Brain ain't as nimble as it usta be.

Well, time to bank the fire and go try to scare up sumpthin' to eat.
Hope you all got as many blessings to count as I got.

[Tramp]

Pete, nicely put. Now when can we start drinkin'?

[2railjon]

Merry Christmas, Bo's!!!!!!!!

[San Diegan]

"It's a cold night in the jungle, but the mood runs high as tomorrow is Thanksgiving. There is a fine, strong bonfire lifting sparks to the heavens, as the darkening heavens send down some big snowflakes. All manner of beverages are being passed around and the poets are clearing their throats. The jungle is just at the edge of the tracks (double mainline) and a Lionel 700E just chuffed past towing its original consist. Any train is possible to see at this jungle.
I thought it might be nice to have a thread where stories and poems having trains at their core might be posted. Where the lost, and the penniless (aren't we all after feeding our train habits), and the usually quiet might have a place to warm there hands and listen to a poem or get a dram of something good. I'll try and make a start.

TRAINS

What these vague memories drawn through
The mind like a restless tremble of fever?
What has informed these blurred images?
This night train halt in a Pullman sleeper,
Sentinel platform lights wreathed by fog,
A face white against the moist glass,
These moving lips are whispering, as
Steam caresses the locomotive's drivers,
A wet cement platform glistening empty,
As a bent black conductor calls, All-laboard,
As a whistle signs to departure's darkness.

More steam now in a vast passenger shed,
Overhead the engineers' crisscross of iron
Like a hallucinogen's etched pattern, the
Soot patina of endless departed consists.
A baggage cart creaks, languidly pushed,
The leather of the stickered trunks and bags,
Eased along the polished baggage car floor.
A small lighted kiosk way down the platform,
"Paper, sir?" and yes, wrapped sandwiches,
magazines, candy, and the always cup of coffee.
And then the pale long legs of a woman as she
Hands herself up through the open Pullman door,
Her red coat for an instant offering precious inches.
The blind wander of the travel weary,
The tossed minute firework of a cigar end,
The crash of a couplers metallic mate,
The violent outbreath of an air-hose release,
Why are these fragments so known?

And now these thin oriental rugs and hardwood floors,
There, metal tracks to carry voltage from room to room,
There the locomotive smoke and the haunt of the whistle
Runs along the wainscoted walls and marble fireplaces.
The passenger cars light the loomed wool and waxed wood,
Move through each darkening room with the certainty of time,
This twilight caressing the mind, till it reaches level, like
A ship rising slowly in a lock.
This is not my childhood!
Whose memories are these?
For they can not be mine.

Thanks for reading. I think I need a taste of something, my throat has gone a bit dry."

Marshall

San

[Tramp]

San, what do you Californians eat on Thanksgiving? Here's my buddy Ben's menu from Santa Cruz:

"8 big crabs, dozen fresh organic artichokes, 4 mini loaves of fresh sourdough, salad stuff, white wine and beer in the cooler. Getting some pies going. Setting up a picnic table outside because its supposed to be another 75 degree day."

Thanks for posting the poem. I actually enjoyed reading it again.

[Tramp]

Thanks, Dennis.

Pete just emailed me requesting the organic turkey story for the year. As some of you might remember, I buy these fancy grain-fed birds that only listen to Mozart and are massaged daily by unblemished virgins in sacramental oils. Here's the kicker: My turkey people (and you can't imagine how difficult it was to get on the list to purchase one of these damn birds; I had to buy the guy a new Jetta to get him to sell me a turkey) quit. The guy, who was acting more and more like a turkey every year, went insane and moved to Florida. That's it. So . . .


I bought a bird at my local coop. I asked for a SMALL bird. You know--small. It's a simple concept, right? But these are hippies. So I go in to pick up my bird yesterday, twenty dollar deposit paid, all good, right? [I'm thirsty!]