In Honor of Father's Day: Model Train Memories Inspired by BP's "train wreck post."→[More:]I was enchanted to see that there's a whole genre of model-train films on YouTube (including the wonderful "World's Scariest Model Train Wrecks."

My dad is a model train guy (HO). I think you can only understand what that means if you've grown up with train modeling in your household. It's an utterly geeky but oddly enchanting hobby that seems to fascinate men of a certain mechanically inclined mindset.

My father's an engineer, and you could see that precision and systems thinking in his approach to this hobby. I loved watching him work on his train layouts. You could see the pleasure and satisfaction he found in putting together a smoothly running, detailed replica. He has always been a great modeler and often on his workbench would be a train car surrounded by scraps of decal, exacto knives, Dremel multi-tool bits, bits of cork track bed, and various Plasticville accessories. There was a delightful youthful quality about him when he was working on trains that was really neat to see in a normally grown-up-acting adult, as a kid.

I have been to see a lot of train layouts. On vacations, train-layout roadside attractions were often part of the journey. While I was never passionate enough about trains to want to be a modeler myself (and in fact, I know of absolutely 0 women train modelers, a fact which must make some significant statement about gender identity but about which I don't care to speculate), I still really enjoyed looking at train layouts. It was always neat to see the attention to detail: model kids playing kick the can with a tiny little model can, painstakingly scuffed paint on an old car, sleeping dogs outside the 5 & 10 with cans of food stacked in the windows. I loved the way the layout builders set challenges for themselves, aiming to recreate an Alpine skiing village, or a desert, or replicate an actual city landscape. There was always a board telling you how many miles of track or hours of work went into the layout. The clicking, whirring sound of multiple trains circling, circling was fun and soothing. The best layouts had other operational features besides the trains, like crossing gates that went up and down and traffic lights that changed color. Part of the fun was in admiring the cleverness and degree of realism the layout builders had achieved.

Occasionally we rode on real trains - steam-train tourist attractions and so on, the one at Dollywood being a favorite - but that was more for us kids. My dad wasn't that interested in real trains; there are hobyyists that are oddly obsessed with trains, who lay in wait filming them and stuff -- these hobbyists with their crude, overblown interest in things life-size are derided by train modelers as "rail-sniffers."

My dad is still into the trains, but doesn't have a layout right now due to lack of space. That doesn't stop us from adding to his collection: He has a Lionel set saved from his childhood but it had no engine, so me and my brother went in on one for a Christmas present a year or so ago (the things are darn expensive). When I visit home, there is usually a copy of Model Railroader on the table, containing this year's debate on the best material to make snow out of, or Joe Schmoe's technique for building a realistic lumber-loaded flatcar.

Yes, model trains may be kind of a weird thing, but on the other hand I got to watch my dad do something that took great skill and patience, something gentle, and something he could share with all of us. I have enjoyed having model trains in my life, because they were part of the package that came with my dad. They will probably make me nostalgic forever. I sent my dad links to some of the videos - check out "Model Train Hits Camera," and, to capture some of the friendly Dad train dynamic, check out this kid and his dad goofing around about their train wreck.