Streetcar and Trolley Rides

A man with a hobby is never too old to have a dream come true.

Always the conversationalist, my father soon struck up a warm back-and-forth with the volunteer motorman working the running car during our 2003 visit to the Pennsylvania Trolley Museum. It soon came out that dad grew up in New Orleans, and his love for NOLA cars was apparent to our new friend. There was hardly a soul on the grounds that morning, so in addition to some extra trips out and back in #832, the motorman pulled to a sudden stop out on the far end of the line and asked dad if he would like to operate her on the way back in. "Is the Pope a Catholic?" dad would later chuckle. A quick overview of the left-hand controller, direction switch, and straight air valve ... and we were off. As we rocked and rolled down the museum right-of-way, dad's hand fixed on the controller, I thought to myself: "A man with a hobby is never too far along to have a boy's dream come true. How many Pearly-Thomas cars did the old man watch rolling down Carrollton Avenue near his boyhood home on Cohn Street? How many wooden-slat seats did he occupy growing up riding these arch-roof cars throughout the Crescent City? And now, here we are, humming down the line, dad at the controls." Later on, he would say with a big laugh: "I grew up riding these fine old cars all over the City, and I had to come all the way to Pittsburgh in Pennsylvania just to be able to run one!" A dream come true.