An Essay on Trains
By Andrew Cummings, Staff Writer

I still don’t know quite how to answer when people ask me why I like trains. Nobody ever comes up to me when I’m watching a baseball game and asks me, “why do you watch baseball?” What am I supposed to say? I like the ball? The bat? A bunch of overpaid middle-aged men running in circles? I don’t know why I like them. I just do.
      The railroad conductors and engineers call us “foamers.” I don’t really know what that means. To some of them it’s intended as a derogatory term. Some of them cannot understand why we like it. Yet most of them want nothing more than to chat with us about their jobs. While many dislike their jobs, they usually find some aspect of it interesting, and most of the time, they’re happy to tell us about when trains are running; rumors circulating at the yard office; how they like those new SD90 locomotives.
      We call ourselves “railfans.” Some of us bring cameras with us when we watch trains, taking photos of each passing train; each locomotive at the terminal. Some railfans even like to photograph railcars. To some, it’s about getting photographs of the real thing so they can build a realistic HO-scale model when they get home. Others, like myself, make a game of trying to get the best photographs possible. A number of magazines are dedicated to the art of railfanning, and these publications provide an outlet for our photography.
      Sometimes we get to be friends with the train crews. They’ve been known to give us rides in the locomotives. Usually these “cab rides” are against the rules; we swear never to speak of them. But I obtained permission from the Otter Tail Valley Railroad, a small railroad in northwest Minnesota, to ride along. I had to sign a liability release and clear it with the general manager. I told her it was for a school photography project, which it was. But I also had an ulterior motive: I love riding trains.
      When we passed the grain elevator in Barnesville, MN, the engineer opened the window of the engine and had me listen to the bark of our diesel engines bouncing off the side of the elevator and back into the cab of the locomotive; he smiled at the sound. That engineer is what’s called a “closet foamer.”
     

Trains Continued..........
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