I remember having a massive train set when I was a little kid. It probably wasn’t that big, but I remembered it being enormous. That seems to be the way with childhood memories. I have vague memories of playing with it was a child, I think it was on a piece of plywood with that fake green foam grass that rubs of on your hands in little crumbles. One day I got a flat head screwdriver(somehow) and popped the tracks off the table, snapping them and rendering them useless. My parents were understandably annoyed. I can’t remember if they yelled at me, or if they asked me why I did it. I’m sure I didn’t have any idea why I did it. I still don’t. Maybe I wanted to take it apart and put it back together? I went through a phase when I was older, where I would take apart radios, or remote controlled cars and put them back together. Sometimes they would still work. My parents told me that I broke it, they couldn’t fix it, and I couldn’t have another one. I couldn’t understand why. That fateful twist of a flat head was the end of my model train conductor days. Just think. I could have been a completely different kind of nerd.