Family

After a hard day out in the field running his own successful contracting company, Dale Ridgeway has the blissful luxury of escaping to a time long ago and a place far away… his basement. That’s where the proprietor of Bishopville’s Custom Line Contracting has
created a 130 sq. ft. wonderland in the form of a custom train set unlike any other to be found in these parts.

 

“Actually, it’s my wife, Beth, who got me back into model trains after a long time away from them,” confessed Ridgeway, who found himself the grateful but surprised recipient of an HO train set the year after he and Beth had married 20 years ago.

 

But the initial fascination for Ridgeway started much earlier, back when he was 6, the same year his dad brought home one of those American Flyer train sets as a means to spruce up the house for the holidays.

 

Since then, Ridgeway has logged many miles – both by air and by rail (of course) – in the pursuit of his avocation. Not only has he covered the States from Colorado to California as well as all over the East Coast, the man fittingly from railway-mecca Pennsylvania has even made pilgrimages to places like Ireland and Australia in the pursuit of those elusive one-of-a-kind pieces.

 

Ranging in cost from as little as $2 to over $350 apiece, the roughly 210 cars and engines – many of them painstakingly restored by Ridgeway himself – that compose the current collection are a mesmerizing sight to behold in concert.

 

As you might expect, the path along the way to the tracks is a collector’s treasure trove of authentic artifacts and memorabilia, including a brass spittoon from the Union Pacific Railroad, signal lanterns, caboose markers, pocket watches, an amazingly evocative brass shift whistle, and a Victoria rail caboose lantern that is likely one of a kind in the States. But the best still lies ahead.

 

The time is 1964. The place: a fictional expanse somewhere in the state of West Virginia. Bonanza is the top-rated TV show; gas is about 30 cents a gallon; the average cost of a new home is $20,500; and the country is still reeling from the assassination of its 35th president.

 

In the midst of one of these typically golden late-summer days, under the blanket of a clear blue sky dappled with billowy clouds, are the gentle blue-green Appalachians as they overlook, almost paternally, the valley of activity stretched before them. Somewhere among the scattered patches of cars, a little yellow beetle bug called a Volkswagen and a robust orange brute called a Camaro seem to be discussing the odds that the man fishing on the lake in front of them will catch that night’s dinner. A propeller plane drones overhead as kids in rolled-up blue jeans ride their bikes toward the red-brick factories where their fathers work. In the distance, the mellifluous moan of a train whistle heralds its emergence from the black, cavelike tunnel. Chugging toward those same factories where the kids wait on their bikes – some popping wheelies, others trading baseball cards – the train pulls into to town, like it does every day, to exchange its cargo and rest a spell before faithfully making its way to the next stop.

 

With tireless passion and scrupulous attention to the last detail, there’s no way Ridgeway’s B&O Railroad-based simulation fails to sweep you up like a tsunami in its stunning authenticity and evocative ambiance – especially if you’re old enough to remember 1964 and America the way it used to be. But Ridgeway’s labor of love is more than just an avocational flight of fancy – it’s also a moving, puffing tribute to a coterie of loved ones, some of whom are no longer with us.

 

“The fictional towns along the line are actually named after someone,” Ridgeway shared. “Clarksville is named for Bob Clark, whom we lost to brain cancer in 2006; Heckton, meanwhile, is named for Lloyd Heck, who died of the same thing in 2005.”

 

There are also the eponymous towns of Macauley, named after one of Ridgeway’s good buddies and fellow collectors in Australia, and Ridgeley, which is the combination of “Ridgeway” and “Leyden,” Beth’s maiden name. (Incidentally, there actually is a town named Ridgeley in West Virginia – population 762 as of the 2000 census and about a mile from the Western Maryland Railway Station in Cumberland.)

 

Somewhat ironically, this romantic throwback to a simpler time wouldn’t be possible without the help of some serious 21st century tech. To monitor and control his rail line, Ridgeway uses a PC running a very modern and sophisticated software program by CTI Electronics. Basically, the CTI system transforms a PC into a centralized traffic control facility, linked electronically to remote sites called “train brains,” which are located throughout the layout. The software program communicates with these sites many times each second, allowing the full control and smooth operation of the line.

 

But for Ridgeway, it never has been, or ever will be, the binary that’s primary.

 

Editor's note: This story appeared in the January-February 2010 issue of Coastal Style Family.

 

 
   

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