Easier panelled coach sides

I would love to take credit for noticing this, but in all honesty must thank Chris Mears for bringing this to my attention.

Chris Mears's avatarPrince Street

I’ve only just discovered the Yeoton Wharf blog. The blog itself reports on the construction of a beautiful 3mm scale railway set in Victorian times and featuring a mix of broad and standard (oops, sorry, narrow) gauge track. While browsing through the blog’s pages I came across one in which he descibes his method for producing panelled coaches:
http://nsalzman5853.wordpress.com/2012/04/17/panelled-coaches/

The process couldn’t be simpler and certainly couldn’t be more brilliant!

Step:
1 Print coach side elevation onto a sheet of self-adhesive label paper
2 Stick label “side” to a sheet of thin plastic
3 Cut out the window openings (the glazed bits) removing the plastic
4 Cut around the panel lines removing only the label material where the raised panel beads should be

…and there you go. Three easy steps and it should be quick, reliable and yield a very nice looking car side. As testiment to the process he’s…

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Physics Room 101

Well, it has been a while since I posted, but I have had little to say – I hope I have done it eloquently.

Anyway, I have been assembling L-girders, cutting sub road-bed, and generally making noise playing with power tools. More will come along soon enough, once glue has dried and my ideas have been proven.

Today, however, was an opportunity for a (not so) gentle reminder of basic physics, involving an over-hanging L-girder rigidly if indirectly fixed to the wall as the immovable object, my body as the irresistable force*, and my forehead as the active participant in the lesson.

head

I’ll say this: as we’ll as being simple, quick and effective, L-girders are very robust…

* Someone, somewhere, must find it so…

Solifluction

Like me, the chances are you will have to look that up, but it is a geographical term relating to the effects of thawing and freezing of, for example, soil above permafrost. Each year, the thaw on the surface leads to over saturated soil above the permafrost, and it slips. Then it freezes again, and the cycle repeats. The consequence of all this is to create small steps in hillsides, etc, as show in the (linked) photo below from this very helpful page.

Solifluction in the Cairgorms

What has this to do with model railways? Well, recently there has been some discussion in various places, but particularly on Mike Cougill’s blog, about how great our hobby is from the perspective of personal satisfaction. We don’t just model a locomotive, as would someone building a radio-controlled vehicle, aircraft or boat. We model the whole scene, and also add movement and logical operation. (Nothing moves on a real railway without there being a purpose. This is also true of some layouts, where the builder has taken the trouble to find out about the real railway.) What the hobby teaches us, more than anything else – more than joinery, basic electrics and often some electronics, sculpting (of landforms), architecture, geography, history, economics, civil engineering, mechanical engineering, electrical engineering, metal working, use of tools,  and so on – is observation.

Observation of the real thing.

All good models start with an observation of the real thing. Generally speaking, unless you are building a model of something akin to the creations of Roland Emmet, railway modelling is not an abstract art – it is nowhere as difficult as that. As an art, it starts with observation. I learned about bonds used in brickwork from Iain Robinson (who has today introduced me to the word solifluction!), via the Railway Modeller, I have learned a lot about texture and colour from Barry Norman and Gordon Gravett. I have developed a love of history beyond railways thanks to the hobby – school put me off that! I could go on. (I often do, according to some many…)

Sometimes it works the other way round, too. I was motivated to learn about shading and perspective at school in art lessons by being allowed to do a perspective drawing of a railway station, with shading to show the direction of the sun. I also learned about observation from my 5th form (year 11, eleventh grade) art teacher, when trying to paint a tree and failing because I had used brown and not a few shades of grey (fewer than 50, I hasten to add!) In fact, I put my astounding performance* in my art exams at the age of 16 down to the drive to observe, rather than anything else, and that came from the hobby.

So, solifluction is another thing I have learned from the hobby, and I shall keep an eye out for it in future!

If you weren’t, you will now…

Simon

*In case anyone is wondering, the words “astounding performance” were used by my art teacher (not sarcastically), who had “inherited” our class from someone who had left part-way through the year, to describe my achievement against my natural ability. I failed. 

Satisfaction. Guaranteed.

Craftsmanship.

How many trains can I (safely and reliably) drive at once? One.

You may think differently about your own abilities. Self-delusion is a great joy.
Until that train running around the loop unattended, whilst you run a second train, runs into the turntable well due to a mis-set turnout.

If it takes me five years to build the single loco to run that train, and effectively four re-builds during the process, why should I worry? I will be learning and improving all the while. I expect my layout to take between 10 and 20 years to build, after all. In the interim, there is the brass market and RTR diesels to keep me going, plus re-wheeled freight cars. All of these can be upgraded or replaced.

There is no rush to the finishing line, for there is no finishing line! The aim of a pastime is to pass time. If I can acquire new skills and a heightened sense of achievement along the way, well that’s as good as a hobby gets, isn’t it?

An uncompromising attitude

Trevor Marshall has just come out all guns blazing on the issue of a “no compromise” attitude.

Rather than fill his comments to overflowing, here is my take on the matter.

The laws of physics make it impossible for me to have a model which is perfectly to scale. Likewise, although my models are steam-powered, it is at some remove: the steam drives a turbine at the power station. The cost of real estate means I cannot produce a model station that is to scale proportions in my chosen scale, and I have to accept sharper curves – at least at the end of my garage – than a real railway would tolerate anywhere outside a dockyard. I cannot even model the full width a model railway “requires” if the layout is to be accurate.

I accept those constraints as the parameters in which I have to work. This is not a compromise, it is a set of requirements, a specification if you like. I have to accommodate running fits on bearings that if scaled up would suggest an urgent need to visit the shops, but a running fit is a running fit. To get around those curves, I need to give consideration to having a bit more sideplay in some of the driven axles of steam locos – not much, but an engineering tolerance as part of a specification is an engineering tolerance. On a consolidation, I may simply have some blind drivers, as the prototype did.

The above is as near to a list of “givens” as I will get, but the only “druther” I can come up with is that I’d rather (I druther, for the very few who wondered) not call it that.

Re-framing the mindset

A 42″ radius curve is not, therefore, a compromise. It is a parameter in setting out design constraints and tolerances: all rolling stock must successfully negotiate a test curve of 40″ radius (it being wise to go slightly below the operational requirement).

Similarly, although railways are a lot wider than most of us realise, compared to their length they are long, straggly things, so not modelling the full right of way will help with creating this impression – this is an artistic response to the constraints, rather than an engineering one.

Level of detail requires a bit more care. Proportion and colour have more impact than anything else, and I am still building up my knowledge on the prototype. For now, I will accept the incorrect bracing on my composite box cars, knowing that I can return to improve or replace these models at a later date. I also agree that unless it is there in the RTR or kit model to begin with, I am not going to model details which I cannot see on the layout without the aid of a dental inspection mirror.

Likewise, if I know that there should be a collection of small rods, cranks and levers hiding in the murky depths of the underframe, I may not model this as a series of separate rods and clevies, etc, but as a piece of carefully shaped wire or strip. Where something is visible, such as the various connections at one end of a freight car, for transferring movement in the brake wheel around the corner to the underside, then it will be modelled in greater detail. Not with greater care, as the same level of care will be used across the piece: a right angle is a right angle, whether it is a fully modelled crank or a bent piece of wire.

Standards

To me, “compromise” is not about modelling standards (e.g. wheel profiles), rather it is about the standard of modelling, and this is where “no compromise” comes in. If I make something, I can ask myself some simple questions:

  • Is this the best I can achieve, given my current skill set?
  • If I were to re-do this now, would there be a noticeable improvement?
  • If I were to re-do this now, would it hold up something more important to me?

The first question is a positive re-wording of the simple question: “Have I sold myself short?”

The second question looks at where I am on the learning curve – it may be the best I could do, having not done this before, but having now done this, maybe I am on the steep part of the learning curve, and I can easily do a better job second time around and lo reinforce th learning I have just undertaken.

The third question looks at my personal priorities, and helps estimate the “nagging quotient”, I.e. “How important to me, at the moment, is getting this detail right? Will it sit at the back of my mind, nagging me, or can I leave it until a future date when other, bigger, projects are out of the way?”

Setting a realistic outlook

Such a mind set is a realistic way of working with a “no compromise” attitude. Either something is an operational constraint which determines tolerances (e.g. minimum radius), or it is something which is as good as I can achieve at this moment in time. That doesn’t mean I won’t come back and upgrade or replace it in the future. This certainly is not a “good enough” policy: it is a “is this as good as I can get at the moment?” attitude.

“No compromise” means not selling oneself short. It does not mean working to exact scale of everything. Compromise means settling for sound best, for less thn is possible; for creating a mental dwell-point, with the constant nagging thought of “if only”, rather than a positive, “Look what I did within my constraints”.

So, what do you want? To identify ways of maximising the possibilities of working with as well as within your constraits, or to spend time regretting the short-cuts and short-selling of one’s potential?

All I can say is, start building a freedom layout, and enjoy yourself as your extend your abilities beyond your horizons.