I was inspired to write this to explain why I love trains. It's an incident in my childhood that I've never forgotten: I call it simply "The Beast"

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When I was young – only 4 or 5. My parents took me to see the trains. I honestly don’t remember where or when but one part still stands out in my mind. My father took me to the station for what I now know is a ‘Run By’. The locomotive and train would run past the station at speed. He was doing around 90 mph when he passed.

My father took me to the station and we found a prime spot close (but not too close) to the tracks. And we waited.

My first sensation was the rails started to sing. An odd twanging, humming sound that told of a train approaching. Then there was a faint shriek of a whistle. A light appeared in the distance and slowly got larger and brighter.

The ground started to shake – a faint vibration only felt through the soles of my feet. But it grew stronger and a pounder rumbling noise accompanied it.

The rumbling and shaking grew louder and stronger. Was it an earthquake? Would the buildings collapse? Suddenly the beast was upon us. The whole world seemed to shake and rock as the smoke and noises drowned out all else as this massive black shape blotted out the sun and hung over everything.

A blast of air like a hurricane slammed into us and sent me scurrying to the safety of my father. I was frightening, delighted, excited and terrified all at the same time.

With a roar of the whistle and the pounding of the wheels the locomotive roared past in a cloud of steam, smoke and ash. I was afraid that the whole world would collapse.

Then as suddenly as it had arrived the great beast was gone. Leaving a cloud of smoke, steam and ash behind. The rumbling slowly faded away and the grand shaking went with it.

My parents never could understand why I wasn’t afraid of thunder. Why should I be – after that?