When I was growing up, my dad built a large model train layout on top of a table in the middle of our unfinished basement in order to run his collection of model trains – and the Number One And Only Rule required of my sister and I was Don’t Touch the Layout.  Don’t Touch the Layout.  Well, spoiler, as my dad is finding out right this very second as he is reading this, We Totally Did.  How could we not?  We would pat the mossy grass and pull the little trees out of their toothpick-sized holes and then put them back in again and, when there was a train on the layout, we’d chug-a-chug that thing along its tiny track with our fingertips on each side of the engine and our noses at the same height as the wheels.  It was awesome.  What was not awesome was when the layout, the table, and the trains were lost in the 1997 Flood.

Let’s fast-forward a couple of decades to late last year, when my dad semi-retired and immediately became a member of the North Metro Model Railroad Club.  This was a big deal.

“This is a big deal,” my mom told me.  “They keep the membership tight because they have limited physical space and they need people who will work on the layout.  He had a trial period where he helped with some of the work, and then he got nominated and voted in.”

“That’s wonderful,” I said.

“And now he gets to work on his own part of the layout,” my mom added.  “And he’s going to start posting videos of the club on their social media page.”

“Even more wonderful,” I said.  “Did they give you a conductor’s hat when they made you a member?”

“They don’t wear hats,” my mom, the wife of the newest North Metro Model Train Club Member, said, knowingly.  “It’s the largest train layout in Minnesota.”

“That seems like a reason to wear hats, but okay,” I said.  “Can we come see the layout?”

For his part, my dad, who is not the type of guy to be very excited about something, was very excited.

“You sure can,” my dad said.  “Members can bring guests.  Everyone else has to wait for an open house.”

“I’m really, really glad you’re a member,” I told him.

Let’s fast-forward again, to this Saturday.  My dad took us to the North Metro Model Railroad Club, located behind an unassuming metal door in the basement of a Chinese restaurant in Coon Rapids.  I was the caboose of our family train and the last one to descend the equally-unassuming wood stairs and walk through the also-unassuming short hallway to the layout proper – and then I had to take a step back, because oh, wow, it was awesome.

“Ohhh wowww,” Eleven exclaimed.  Miniature buildings, people, landscapes, and tracks, tracks, and more tracks spanned the full basement – 5,000 square feet, as I later learned – beneath ceiling-hung signs explaining where each section was located, be it Brainerd, or Duluth, or Saunders.

“Look at this!” Fifteen, normally unimpressed by anything, started pointing from section to section.  “That street sign is lit up.  And there’s a herd of cows.  And look, this house is on fire and the fire department is there!”

“Don’t touch,” my dad reminded us for the ninth time that day.

“We won’t,” I promised, this time telling the truth.

Here’s an interesting fact about train clubs: not everyone runs the trains.  My dad doesn’t run trains, for example, he just works on the layout.  He COULD run the trains in that he is allowed to, but he prefers to leave that up to the experts because running model trains in a layout this large is COMPLICATED.  So complicated, in fact, that several of the members of the club are either engineers or work for an actual railroad themselves.

Because my dad wanted us to get the full experience, he had called in train club reinforcements: a young gentleman named Eli, and one of the founders, Steve.  When we walked down the stairs into the train club, Eli was setting his trains on the track – the club owns 1,300 cars and 800 engines itself, but many of the members like to run their own trains – and Steve was inputting directions into a handheld remote control directing a long series of box cars.

While the boys went off in their own directions, I stuck with my dad, who gave me the insider tour of the layout.

“One of our members is a master bridge builder,” he said, pointing to a black-and-white photograph of a bridge and then to its corresponding HO scale-built brethren in the club.  “He modeled this bridge exactly from this photograph, including the rocks.”

“That’s wonderful,” I said.  “And this house here is wonderful, and this bar is wonderful, and this grove of trees with the deer is wonderful.”

“This is the section I just rebuilt,” he said, pointing to a wall.  “The base was pulling apart from the ground because people would lean against it and their bodies would jostle them apart.”  He rubbed his fingers along the simulated stone.  “I fixed it.”

“That’s wonderful, too,” I said.  “And I see why you don’t wear conductor hats; you’d be knocking everything around.”

We walked around and talked around.  Eli explained the nuts and bolts of how to run the trains (honestly, it’s so complicated I don’t even know how to distill it down more than to say that it’s not at all as easy as turning it on and letting it run, and also sometimes they run the exact routes of a specific train line on a specific day or event which makes it even more complicated), and Steve and I discussed the layers of tracks since several parts of the layout go below the main platform.

“What happens if a train derails when it’s under the layout?”  I gestured to a series of four TV screens showing tracks within the body of the layout.

“Well, it’s not good,” Steve said.

Near the back of the layout in the “North Minneapolis” section was a partially-built nook of four building facades.

“This is my section,” my dad said, proudly.  “It’s right outside of Humbolt.”

“This is the best part of all,” I said, even more proudly.

As our visit to the North Metro Model Railroad Club was slowing down, my dad realized one of the little power poles in a section had toppled over.  He gently picked it up and re-righted it, only for it to fall again.  This went on several times as he tested different spots, each time falling back over.

“Here, let me try,” I said, picking up the power pole.  I patted the grass down slightly with my finger and nestled the pole in the spot.  It fell over again.

“Don’t touch,” my mom said, righting the power pole in a spot where it stayed standing.

“I won’t; I’m a MODEL child,” I said, winking, as Eli’s train went chug-a-chugging by.

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The photo above is of my cutie dad at the train club. Check out his latest video from the club by clicking here, or follow them on social media by clicking here.

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This week on North Dakota Today we talked about Joann Jesser, my Nice Person of the Week, as well as a long-distance runner named Theresa taking Lincoln by storm – I mean, foot. (Valley News Live)

OhhhfercuteIlovethissomuch. (Grand Forks Herald)

I guess you could call this a MAMMOTH garage renovation. (KFYR TV)

North Dakota has been named the fourth-best state in the nation by U.S. News and World Report. (KFYR TV)

Fargo’s Zay Taylor is keeping things clean. (Valley News Live)

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