The mid 20th century was known as the "golden age" for many things - television, rock and roll, sexual and societal repression. What else was peaking at that time? Railroading, that's what! Whether you were going into the city for work or across the country on vacation, America was riding the rails, enjoying the luxury of dining cars and sleepers and the leisurely train travel activities of getting plastered in the bar car or getting fleeced by card sharks in one of the many games of chance bound to occur on long trips. But don't take our word for it, bend an ear to noted railroad union rep and grandpa Cliff Merritt as he... sets the record straight!


Whether you choose Greyhound Scenicruiser, the 20th Century Limited, or hiding out in the boxcar of a slow freight headed for Duluth Minnesota, you're proving that mass transportation is America's best entertainment value.


We join our story as Cliff Merritt prepares to retire from his railroad job. He started out as a call-boy, and I'm not sure what that is, but I know what a "call girl" is, and henceforth I choose to not pursue that line of questioning any further, your honor. Instead let's think about having to choose between a senior prom and grandfather's testimonial dinner. If it makes your decision any easier, remember, there will be thinly disguised drinking at both events!


Ever wonder what that smoke was coming out of the back of the train? Why, it's a mess of bluegills cooking up on the stove! Or the linings on a stuck wheel brake finally catching fire, one or the other.


Name-dropping Mussolini and then following that up with horrifying death statistics? You've got the crowd in the palm of your hand, Cliff!


Meanwhile at the Senior Prom, the fun gets into high gear as Ted, voted "most senior-looking of the senior class," decides to liven things up by starting a fight with his date.


Listen Ted, you are way too old to be hauling out the "well my dad says..." to back up your nonsense. In fact, you are way too old to be in high school.


Way to go Ted, you really showed her... your complete unsuitability as a partner!


You get hassled when you stay out too late! You get hassled when you come home early! Teenagers can never catch a break.


"Well now honey, every doofus has the right to spout nonsense here in America, that's one of our God-given rights, and another one of our rights is about how I can own the shotgun I'm going to threaten Ted with if he isn't over here tomorrow morning bright and early to apologize to my little angel."


Usually when we see an older guy in a tux talk about "a plan" it means he's up for one last score before he quits the game forever, and it all ends in gunfire, sirens, and firey explosions. Here's hoping!


This family, I swear, they're the only family in America that is downright appalled their teenage daughter came home at a decent hour and absent any boyfriend-groping.


Maybe it's a certain date from last night who wants to pick up where they left off, or maybe it's the chores she's been neglecting for the past three days in the form of a few loads of laundry?


Don't think for a minute that this was Ted's idea. Ted's idea was to spend the rest of the evening making the limo driver cruise past the local hamburger drive-in over and over again until the rental time was up.


Maybe Cliff can talk some sense into those crazy kids by showing them some slides. Here's some strikers getting killed by scabs and goons!


Depending on where you are in the world, missing fingers mean either "criminal brotherhood incompetence" or "priceless railroading experience." And here I was, always thinking "fireworks injury."


Did you know up in Canada water freezes at 40 below? And that water freezes anywhere it's that cold? It's a fact!


Oh crap, here Ted goes with his "my father says" stuff. It starts with the "holding back progress" talk, but soon enough it's all about how the railroads are a Masonic world domination plot led by reptile people from another dimension.


Wait, when did they have radio controlled trains? That's a great idea! Who needs engineers and their silly huge hats? Fire 'em all and we'll run them trains by remote control from our easy chairs!


Longer trains! Heavier cars! Faster speeds! Fewer employees! Bigger derailments! Hold on, the railroads don't want you to think about that last part. Forget I said anything.


Even missing a few fingers, railroad men have scored a number of wins for safety and productivity. But that means nothing to Ted, who has been saving up every bit of overheard nonsense related to trains for years, hoping one day he'll have the glorious opportunity to argue with his girlfriend's grandfather in their basement.


Lord, grant me the confidence of a middle-aged white high school student man who is arguing about railroads with someone who has been working in the railroad industry for fifty-one solid years.


Ted realizes he's gone too far. Will he make it out of that basement with all his fingers intact? How soundproof did you make that paneling, Cliff? Is this merely the latest in a long line of coffee-fueled basement beatdowns? I mean, Cliff is a union guy, there's no way he never had to do any strongarm work, come on.


Plumbing, railroading, it's all about keeping things moving, working those switches and valves, maintaining the right of way, and most importantly, paying dues to your respective labor organizations, guilds, and brotherhoods.


Nobody's too young to hear important facts, Lucy. Why, Danny would love to listen to Ted and Cliff talk about interest rates, mortgages, their respective wartime service, and their prostate issues. Because Ted here is in his 30s or 40s. Don't get me wrong, I love this artwork, it's Al Williamson and Angelo Torres who are two masters of comic art, but holy cow they did not make Ted look like a teenager or even a young adult, Ted is getting mail solicitations from AARP, that's how old Ted is drawn.


"My dad says a lot of workers these days are sort of coasting along doing half the work because of new inventions and equipment, and sometimes they even bill for a full hour of work even though it only took them ten minutes to clear that sink - uh, I mean, railyard switch malfunction, that's what I meant to say."


An occupation involving two-ton automobiles stacked three high on teetery, swaying rail cars is characterized as "dangerous?" You don't say!


What we want is progress! Advanced high speed rail like the Japanese have been doing for the past (checks notes) sixty years. We're going to catch up with them any day now!


I'd say something funny about this, but I need to get to the station to take my air-cushioned rocket propelled train and blast across America at six or seven hundred miles an hour, which is where I'll be getting the really excellent hallucinogenic drugs they're apparently handing out at railway union meetings.


America was given the choice between "sitting calmly on a train with a bunch of strangers" and "burning rubber past all the other losers on the freeway just to slam into bridge abutments at ninety-five MPH," and they chose the bridge abutment every single time. Sorry Cliff.


Their bond strengthened by a deeply emotional journey through four trays full of railroad slides, Ted and Lucy commit to getting as far away from that rec room as possible.


Generations of American workers and their families may have their differences, but at the end of the day we can all agree on one important fact: kid brothers are the worst!

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