But it has been many years since the last train's whistle pierced through the quiet morning air. All that was left were the rusty tracks, making their way through the landscape in straight lines and gracious curves. There must be a way to make use of these tracks, one thought while smiling and thinking back of a time where the 301 thundered through the landscape, billowing out big plumes of smoke and water vapour.
Then, one morning, one thought of marrying the fun with the practical and thus this creature was born:
Add new comment
