Hobo Jungle
Kurt, Thanks again for your input on the 2-10-4 !! After a closer examination this afternoon I noticed the the third flangless driver when it came around the curve would drop off and then get hung up trying to get back on the rail again.
After a call to Gary he's sending me a shim block set to replace the springs on the first and last driver set which has worked for everyone else who encountered the same problem.
Jon, that's good news. See, I knew there was something Gary had told me about that engine that wasn't ideal.
I have the oddest notion. I think I'm going to drink a beer. Any of you ever drink beer? It's an unusual beverage made from malted grain, water, yeast and hops. I hear it's best if you serve it ice cold, but who knows.
I have the oddest notion. I think I'm going to drink a beer. Any of you ever drink beer? It's an unusual beverage made from malted grain, water, yeast and hops. I hear it's best if you serve it ice cold, but who knows.
Tramp, No question your hunch was on the money!!! Obviously enough folks complained where these "blocks" had to be specially made!!! As I told you, I never doubted your word, but this was a "must have" for the collection!! Thank you again, and yes, it's beers while cooking up hot italian sausage with marinara sauce and mostaccioli !!!!!
I've got the next round.
I've got the next round.
Did somebody say BEER. I've tasted this beverage. I recall that the manufacturers' name applied to the bottle greatly affects the taste.
Which reminds me, I forgot a few in the creek when I broke camp yesterday. And, I gotta get a case of Labatts before the holidays.
If you agree with the Progressives, it's freedom of speech. If you disagree, it's hate speech. There are no alternatives.
Your Zepher set is on ebay now.
Yeah Kurt, I'm twisted over this one!! I've got an 800.00 check in the mail today, but I'm afraid it won't clear my bank in time to bid on the auction!!!!
Getting back to engines, even new out of the box, let alone an Ebay purchase, something somewhere down the road is gonna go wrong with it. I'm the kind of fella who would rather take the SOB apart, fix it, learn something, and move on. It should'nt have to be that way, but with this hi-tech crap, it just is. Guy's who've experienced these kinda problems and lend a helping hand are what this forum is all about.
There is no engine made I will ever fear taking apart, and trouble shooting to get it running right. Hell, the first two days of owning the 2-10-4, I spent more time looking at the underside of it then the topside!! It's part of the baptisim of the hobby in my book.
Let me mention also, It's guys like Gary at 3rd Rail's service dept. who, even though you did'nt purchase the engine directly from them, will still bend over backwards to help you out. All he asked for was for me to send a $5.00 donation to their coffee fund. I'm gonna top that.
Jon, I'd take either one, but the all-weather is unusual. I like those double generators? on the top of the boiler. Man, I really do like that engine. Maybe someday.
Hev, any news on the tat? Maybe you should consider this?
It was dark when they separated. Only one streetlight pasted a rectangle of vaporous milk on a wall. He kissed her gently on the lips, crawled over to the sofa, and leaned his sweaty back against it. She propped her head on an elbow, watching him. He snagged the beer off the coffee table and drank.
“Warm,” he said. “You want one?”
She nodded.
When he got back, trying not to limp, she’d switched on a light, settled on the sofa, shaken out her hair and put her shirt back on, leaving it unbuttoned. He handed her a beer. And she started laughing. Fock—he’d forgotten. She continued to laugh, almost bubbling over.
“I was only eighteen,” he said, sitting beside her. “It seemed like a great idea at the time.”
“It’s incredible. I love it.”
She bent at the waist, the shirt spreading. She kissed the headlight, the bell, then up to the smokestack with its coil of burning coal, licked down to the cowcatcher just above his navel, kissed every freight car all the way to the caboose and the horizon, which bisected his nipples. “You really are funny, you know that?”
“Took forever too.”
“I want a tattoo.”
“Not sure steam would be right for you. Maybe a diesel?”
She poked him. “What’s that?” She reached down and wiped her fingers along the floor.
Hev, any news on the tat? Maybe you should consider this?
It was dark when they separated. Only one streetlight pasted a rectangle of vaporous milk on a wall. He kissed her gently on the lips, crawled over to the sofa, and leaned his sweaty back against it. She propped her head on an elbow, watching him. He snagged the beer off the coffee table and drank.
“Warm,” he said. “You want one?”
She nodded.
When he got back, trying not to limp, she’d switched on a light, settled on the sofa, shaken out her hair and put her shirt back on, leaving it unbuttoned. He handed her a beer. And she started laughing. Fock—he’d forgotten. She continued to laugh, almost bubbling over.
“I was only eighteen,” he said, sitting beside her. “It seemed like a great idea at the time.”
“It’s incredible. I love it.”
She bent at the waist, the shirt spreading. She kissed the headlight, the bell, then up to the smokestack with its coil of burning coal, licked down to the cowcatcher just above his navel, kissed every freight car all the way to the caboose and the horizon, which bisected his nipples. “You really are funny, you know that?”
“Took forever too.”
“I want a tattoo.”
“Not sure steam would be right for you. Maybe a diesel?”
She poked him. “What’s that?” She reached down and wiped her fingers along the floor.
Last edited by Tramp on Tue Dec 19, 2006 4:51 pm, edited 2 times in total.
Return to “The Club Car Lounge”
Who is online
Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 69 guests
