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Tamar - another lovely diesel

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I can modestly confess to a number of failings in my 16mm world, one of which is that I struggle to resist a nice diesel locomotive. The exact number in my possession is an official secret, but is well into double figures. I am aware that their popularity does not reach the dizzy heights enjoyed by live steam engines - indeed the prototypes are frequently considered a second-rate means of propulsion, with ugliness, noise and odorous black smoke as only some of the factors cited against them.

However, embracing diversity is, I trust, one of the many attributes of the 16mm fraternity, so here is a short resume of how I went about building yet another lovely diesel. The item in question was a Contractors Loco No.4 from Houston Gate Locomotive Works (HGLW to its friends). It is in fact a model of a model, the original being produced in 1963 by Egger-Bahn in HOe scale. The actual prototype is obscure, modeller-speak for unknown and possibly fictional. The kit was seen at the Peterborough show, where my layout slaves and I were exhibiting The Middleforth Light Railway. My wish-list made no mention of motive power purchases, if only because I knew my buying time would be limited. But Mr Hippey is a good salesman, saw me hovering over a flat-pack of whisky crates, and moved in for the kill…

In a world dominated, so it seems, by the ubiquitous padded bag, smothered in gaffer tape and like as not delivered by a scruffy courier employed by a company named after a South American river, it was notable that the kit arrived in a proper, brand new cardboard box, courtesy of Her Majesty’s Royal Mail, no less. First appearances were of a neat plastic envelope containing half a dozen or so MDF frets of assorted sizes, plus a small bag of metal parts.

The instructions on the HGLW website contain useful diagrams of the main components, with each part labelled for easy identification. And talking of neatness, the laser had produced clean well-defined cuts, with each part held in place by just a pair of small lugs, so removal was straightforward. The tab-and-slot construction worked well - for the most part the tabs slid in neatly (that word again) without needing to adjust clearances. I tried hard to control my usual habit of spreading glue liberally over surfaces to be joined, to avoid excess getting squeezed out onto visible areas.

The cab sides were double-skinned, an inner and an outer, with the inner one labelled as such to increase the chances of them being put in the right way round. The slots in the floor were not quite wide enough for both tabs, so a little trimming of the inside ones was required. The power/direction switch fitted in a ready-drilled hole in the front of the cab. It’s the obvious place for easy access, but for my intended radio control it could go underneath out of sight, as it would only be needed at the beginning and end of a session. As will be seen, it eventually became redundant altogether.

The chassis is a separate unit assembled using the same tab-in-slot method. The suspension units were well executed with plenty of detail, and the precision (dare I say neatness?) of the laser cutting meant that even their very small components not only fell easily out of the sprue but also fitted well, with the minimum of fettling.

One of my many modelling inadequacies relates to the fitting and meshing of gears. Fortunately the brass driven gear and the wheels all came ready-fitted in their correct positions on the axles, along with a pair of plastic sheaves for the four-wheel drive. And, joy of joys, the plastic worm gear was already mounted on the motor shaft. The drive belt (made of green plastic cable-like material) fitted quite tightly between the axles, but ran smoothly with only modest resistance. The bearings were substantial oil-filled units, which confirmed the view that this loco was built for significant use.

Getting stuck in

The instructions recommended gluing the motor to its holder and then screwing the holder tight once the gears were correctly aligned in the chassis. However I found the act of tightening the screws separated the gears, so I glued the holder instead (did I mention I have meshing issues?). Initial testing of the drive seemed OK initially but a close examination revealed some white powder on the chassis, which could only have come from the plastic gear. Maybe the included spare would be needed sooner rather than later? However some judicious realignment of the motor shaft with a screwdriver cured the problem, or at least removed the symptoms.

At this point the instructions ran out. They were described on the HGLW website as a work in progress, and there were photos to help in the remaining assembly, but it seemed a little unusual to market the kit without finishing them off. That said, the rest of the construction was fairly straightforward. The chassis fitted tightly under the body, hiding much of the suspension and bearing detail, which is a bit of a shame. The design of the body is also unusual in that the front half has a seat and a storage area for tools and other small items - presumably the engine is slung underneath somewhere. The HOe model has the exhaust lying flat on the roof, with no clue as to where it starts from. The twin-AAA battery box fits under the seat, which is removable for access.

The roof has a neat novel means of achieving the required curve - laser cuts made lengthways about a centimetre apart and halfway through the thickness of the material, so that it could be bent easily in a uniform and controllable way. Even I would struggle to fit it incorrectly. What I actually did was to suspend the roof between the jaws of a vice, with a small lump of lead in the middle to entice it into a more-or-less permanent curve, for ease of fitting with little or no glue. That way it could easily come off if, for example, the driver became unstuck and started to go walkabout within the cab.

Adding some detail

The kit lacks couplings, but a suitable pair of multi-height items were retrieved from my ‘diesel bits’ box. Learning from errors with earlier loco builds, the couplings were attached with Araldite rather than superglue. The attachment points were roughed up to give a good key, as otherwise adhesion is only as strong as the component’s grip on its primer coat. I know this to be true from more than one train-separation experience… Also retrieved was a printed sheet of dashboard dials, from which a random instrument could be cut out and fitted to the control panel. In truth the sheet originated from an aircraft kit, so for all I know this loco is equipped with an altimeter or an artificial horizon rather than a speedometer or rev counter. A world first for diesel-kind, perhaps. A couple of transistors from the ‘electrical bits’ box were also glued on the panel, to simulate control gear, and the Box of Old Lego Pieces in the loft was raided for a speed control lever.

Painting MDF is another of my incompetencies, but the material in this kit took the spray primer and topcoat quite well after a couple of layers. Red was chosen as I already had a can of that colour in the man-shed and because most of my other locos are more subdued blues and greens, so it was high time I had something a little more flamboyant. The chassis was brush-painted with a water-based satin black described as ‘suitable for beams’, hopefully both the metal and wood varieties. For contrast the roof and window frames were painted Railmatch GWR Indian Red, purchased many years ago for reasons long forgotten. As well as plastic windows pre-cut for easy fixing (big tick, HGLW), a brass door handle was supplied, again with a ready-drilled hole to fit it in. Another scrabble through the bits box came up with an orphan grab handle, which complemented the door handle nicely.

A test run showed that the loco could pootle around my somewhat uneven garden railway track at a more-or-less scale speed. For a brief moment I wondered if radio control was actually necessary, until I remembered the numerous occasions when locos not so equipped have come to grief in the most inaccessible places as a result of excessive speed, or have demonstrated an inability to stop other than by impact with an immoveable item of natural flora, such as a small twig. My preferred controllers these days are Timpdon units if there is space to fit them, or Deltang if not. Some experimentation showed that a receiver would fit, but room would be needed for another pair of batteries to achieve the minimum operating voltage. So I decided on a different approach, using a spare wagon to hold the batteries and radio gear, and fitted with a socket to take a plug on the end of a fly lead from the loco’s motor. This has the advantage that the wagon can be used to provide controlled power to other small locos that have somehow appeared on my ever-lengthening roster.

Finishing off

My general philosophy, to use a rather overblown phrase, is that locos without drivers (and coaches without passengers) are incomplete, if not downright odd-looking. So a Modeltown driver went in the cab and a ditto workman sat out in the well-ventilated third class, guarding a small toolbox probably containing his sandwiches. A nice detail supplied with the kit was a ladder carried on the back of the loco, presumably for shinning up signal posts to adjust the mechanism.

Likewise my usual approach to a new engine is ‘have loco, need name for loco’. Most my fleet are named after Kentish or Cornish rivers or castles, or the occasional Scottish island. A little thought ‘Tamar’ was selected, and Narrowplanet promptly commissioned to produce the brasswork. Extended running trials on the St Aubyn Light Railway showed it had a good performance with the sort of works train the probably non-existent prototype might have pulled. No doubt the 4-wheel drive helps.

In summary, it’s a well-made, easy-to-build kit of a somewhat different style of locomotive that has fully justified its addition to my all-too-rapidly-growing fleet. However the fact that HGLW have several other diesels in their range is of no interest whatsoever. For a week or two, anyway.

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