"Funny you should mention it," I answered. "I was wondering what to write for April's FROM THE EDITOR. As usual, my mind is empty. That's probably why I'm editor."

The Railroad Man was already three words into his next thought before I had finished mine. He was enthusiastic about a new and arcane scrap of railroad history. "The Los Angeles & Independence Railroad. Ever hear of it?" he asked.

I was about to answer.

"It was a three foot six inch narrow gauge line," he went on. "It went from Santa Monica to downtown Los Angeles. Ring any bells?" "Well ..." I began.

"Anyway, I called a friend who knows about it and he sent me some stuff," the Railroad Man continued. "Here's a map showing generally where the tracks went and I have a picture of the old station on San Pedro between 4th and 5th."

"Great neighborhood," I managed to interject. "What are we going to do, wander through the heart of downtown and tear up the sidewalk looking for old railroad spikes?"

He ignored my logic. "I'm not free until Sunday. Let's leave your place at eleven. I'm busy. I gotta go."

At 11:45 Sunday morning, I heard an EMD SD40T-2 idling in the front yard. That seemed improbable since my house is near the top of a hill, about twenty miles from the nearest tracks so I stepped outside to investigate. A sudden hiss of air escaping from a brake line surprised me. The Railroad Man had arrived.

The vehicle he had selected for Sunday's adventure was the sleek white Pontiac TransSport we had driven up to Colorado's Alpine Tunnel. It resembles a Dustbuster with a 700 megawatt surround-sound system and the Railroad Man enjoys testing its capabilities. His usual sonic accompaniment to our exciting adventures is The Sounds of Small Steam, Volume I or some such tape. As the neighbors later remarked, apparently he had found a new one.

I climbed into the cab. Couplers crashed loudly somewhere near the back seat. The Railroad Man offered me a Fig Newton, the Official Snack Food of Exciting Railroad Man Adventures. He backed onto the street, rolled down the windows, and entertained the neighborhood with a loud blast from a diesel horn. Children dropped their toys and stood open-mouthed as we headed off in search of the Los Angeles & Independence. The adventure had begun.

The LA&I began narrow gauge operations in 1877, immediately leased its trackage to the Southern Pacific and, by the late 1880s, had become a standard gauge railroad. The Central Pacific took over the lease in 1888. Around the turn of the century, the Southern Pacific bought the LA&I and, eventually, its Pacific Electric interurban subsidiary took over. The northwestern terminus was Port Los Angeles, a long pier extending into the ocean from a point between what are now Santa Monica and Malibu. It was the region's main dock until the construction of the harbor in San Pedro. The trains, and eventually the trolleys, carried freight and passengers from the ships to "downtown" Los Angeles. (The 1877 photo showing the LA&I depot at what is now the middle of downtown looks as though the location could have been somewhere on the Great Plains.) In the 1960s, the Pacific Electric abandoned the right-of-way. The section from what had been a depot at the intersection Ocean and Colorado Avenues down to what is now the Pacific Coast Highway ultimately became part of the Santa Monica Freeway, U.S. Interstate 10. The last couple of miles ran north along what is now the Pacific Coast Highway (California Highway 1).

Until sometime in the 1960s, Los Angeles was relatively clean and most people downtown looked like the extras we used to see in movies. Today, San Pedro between 4th and 5th displays a depressing collection of inanimate and human rejects. Nothing suggests an ornate and elegant wooden depot had once stood on an empty field at that spot. The Railroad Man snapped a couple of photos and we left.

We deduced the tracks must roughly have paralleled what is now Olympic Boulevard as they headed west from downtown Los Angeles. We actually discovered them about twelve miles away near the old Helms Bakery building in Culver City. We zigged down side streets and zagged along frontage roads following the old LA&I-Pacific Electric right-of-way to the coast.

The Railroad Man interrupted our exciting adventure and announced it was time for lunch. He has an amazing sixth sense about such things. He decided we would eat burritos at Tito's Tacos. Tito's must be the favorite establishment of all railroad men; Gary Raymond first introduced it to me in 1990. On the same occasion, as I recall, Gary also pointed out a pretty girl wearing what seemed to be nothing more than lacy underwear. He explained such flimsy trifles now represent the haute couture of female outerwear, something I have since tried to keep in mind.

It was already 2 o'clock but a mob surrounded Tito's stand. Each of the four lines to the outside take-out windows extended about half a block. We tried our luck on one of three lines inside. Were Tito so inclined, he probably could afford all four versions of the Garden Railway Company-Samhongsa brass FEF-3 with an Aster Big Boy for dessert.

The Railroad Man ordered a beef and bean burrito with cheese and a large orange soda. I tried a taco and a tamale and a Diet Coke. The taco was better. We brought along the drinks to help sustain us during what would certainly be the day's most taxing event-avoiding pretty girls in bikinis at the beach in our search for historic narrow gauge artifacts. We resumed our adventure at 2:45 without indigestion.

We were cruising along Olympic keeping an eye out for the right-of-way. Suddenly the Railroad Man exclaimed, "Holy Toledo, get a load of those steam chests!" I swung around expecting to see something bouncing along in flimsy trifles. Instead, I saw a full-size Bachmann 2-4-0.

We have since confirmed the locomotive we saw really is the prototype for Bachmann's model. It began life as Hawaii Railway Number Five. In 1965, Dr. Robert Keller bought it, moved it to Palo Alto, and completely overhauled it. In 1970, he sent it to a tourist railroad in South Lake Tahoe. Then the Cumbres & Toltec Scenic Railway bought it. Now it is on display in front of a leasing company on the outskirts of Santa Monica. It is green, with a black smokebox. A white number 5 embellishes one sand dome. The lettering on the tender says "S&SPC".

The Railroad Man turned up the diesel sounds and quickly swung the TransSport across oncoming traffic toward a parking lot. I remember a collage of screeching tires, rumbling boxcars, the blast of a diesel horn, and shaking fists. I remember following the Railroad Man as he bolted with his camera toward the locomotive. I remember the three foot gauge track and the builder's plate on the side of the smokebox reading, "Baldwin Locomotive Works, 1925." I remember the Railroad Man urgently demanding I join him in paying tribute to the sacred gods of steam by performing the secret railroad dance. This time I wore the hat and he wore the feathers. And I remember leaving the parking lot attendant reeling in stunned disbelief as we climbed back into the Pontiac and blasted two longs and a short on the diesel horn with the Railroad Man shrieking, "We have found the lost steamer! Al Akhbar!"

The rest of the adventure was really quite ordinary. We traced the right-of-way from the site of what had been the old depot at Colorado and Ocean down to the shoreline, up the coast and, of course, discovered the ancient site of the long Port Los Angeles pier. Then the skies opened and drenched us in a torrential downpour and we found ourselves consoling a pair of beautiful, wet, and frustrated bikini-clad sun worshippers.

The Railroad Man explained to Bambi how a three foot six inch narrow gauge railroad once had been the most sophisticated form of transportation to the area. I shared the last Fig Newton with Heather. In Southern California, even when it rains it seems sunny.