Pssst! ... Hey Kid, Wanna Buy a Caboose?

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In the early morning, before most people get out of bed, I usually go for a long walk just to absorb the unadulterated sounds of nature . . . and it was on just such a walk that I discovered a purple caboose parked on a semi-deserted railroad siding.

Now it's almost impossible—even at 5:30 a.m.—to be unaffected by a purple caboose sitting in a nearly abandoned area . . . and the yellow sunshine smile painted on the side of this one made it absolutely irresistable. Paying no attention to the hour or to the red cabooses on either side, I climbed right up on the platform of that smiling wonder.

The sound of my own knocking suddenly brought me back to my senses. Five-thirty in the morning is no time to be beating on the door of a purple caboose! After waiting a few moments and getting no response, I made a hasty retreat. I also made a mental note to return at a more reasonable hour.

My subsequent visit proved that I hadn't been dreaming. There stood the happy caboose, sandwiched between what appeared to be three ordinary red ones. I cautiously stepped up on the purple car's platform again and peered through the window in the door. With the exception of some carpenter tools and lumber, the interior was bare.

I was badly disappointed and was starting to leave when an automobile pulled up and a man in his early 20's jumped out. He was wearing a smile as friendly as that of the sunshine face.

"Hi," he said as if we were old friends. "Will you join me for a cup of coffee?" He was headed toward one of the red cabooses and, in somewhat of a daze, I followed.

My wonder increased when we walked through the door. Inside, the small (14 ft. high, 9 ft. wide and 33 ft. long) railroad car was divided into living areas, the walls were gaily papered or paneled in dark wood, the floor was covered with a cheerfully patterned red carpet and a potbellied stove stood in the center of the main room. Not only was the red caboose a complete home, it was a very attractive one as well.

As my host showed me around and I began to close my gaping mouth, we exchanged introductions. Charles Bartlebaugh was the owner of both the friendly manner and the red caboose (it had been his home for the past four years).

And the happy purple beauty? "I sold that one to Dr. Klein. He's going to take it up north and use it for a ski cabin. In fact," Chuck continued, "I once owned all four of these cars. Selling cabooses to people who want a very inexpensive and very livable home is how I currently earn my living."

Now I never would've guessed that a living could be made selling cabooses, of all things, and I was anxious to find out how Chuck had gotten started.

"Let me preface that story," he said, "with the fact that I've been on my own since the tenth grade and have always felt that money is secondary to happiness. I guess I'm trying to say that even before I was out of high school, I was looking for some way of surviving without losing myself in a meaningless struggle just to make money.

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