When you built your layout, did you build it with future expansion in mind; or, is it a dead-end layout?
Dead end layouts are cul-de-sacs because they have nowhere’s to go. If you live in a 35 ft trailer, there may simply not be enough room. Some folks live in big houses, but are blocked by radical special interest groups, who may want room for their doll or China collection.
Some have avoided dead-end layouts by running additional shelving for either more layout space or as staging yardage.
But the vast majority of dead-enders, or, as I call them, dead heads, are completely content with their space allocation, because they can perch atop a stool and watch the trains without them disappearing down a long corridor and having to run and catch up to them.
Your typical dead head rues those days he has to clean the track or get the dust off the trees and styrene structures. An expandable layout would needlessly add even more work to dedust or to debug a wiring problem caused by a voltage drop from being too far from its power brick.
Dead heads often run their trains on a table, or “island” in train jargon, which denotes isolation and seclusion. Being a castaway is not such a bad thing. You can concentrate on improving the island like the castaways did on Gilligans Island.
Dead heads often have good horse sense. Their dead end layouts are in proper balance and perspective with the surroundings. They have plenty of room to walk around their dead-end layouts and they balance trains with a pool table, wet bar, hot tub, dart throwing area and beer fridge. Their layouts don’t grow like kudzu, expanding into claustrophobic peninsulas, duckunders and John Armstrong variety mushrooms.
Maybe being a dead head ain’t so bad after all?
Dave Vergun