May 13, 2025: The Old Tracks

The sound defined my childhood.

It came from the distance, riding the breeze like a secret only kids could hear. A hollow, high-pitched echo piercing the quiet of summer North Carolina afternoons.

Toot-tooot.

The miniature train at the city park. About a mile away, I would always hear it from my front yard.

Built in the 1950s and still chugging today, the diesel-powered choo-choo runs a small loop through woods and over a shallow creek. The highlight comes midway: a dark tunnel, where riders scream their lungs out.

Through birthday parties, lazy morning rides, and spooky Halloween nights — especially when my neighbor got hired to jump-scare passengers — that little loco holds a special place in my heart.

I’ll never forget the day my own kids climbed aboard. As their wide eyes tracked every curve, delighted squeals filled the air. For a moment, time bent backward.

I recently read about a California family who has their own backyard railway. A tenth of a mile long, containing bridges, a tunnel, a general store, and a miner’s camp with tiny boxes of dynamite.

Now I want one in my yard.

If only to blow the whistle. Toot-tooot.