The author of Subways Are for Sleeping (1957) which never sold as well as it should have, tells what it was like to do some railroad watching in Flushing, Michigan. It's a gift and a curse to be able to remember as well as he has just what it was like to be so young. Since he was so young around WWI, consider it his gift to the readers who remember or wonder. The only reason why he could indulge his mania for railroads and had a depot to make his own has due to Flushing's iron-willed and monied senior citizen, Ira T. Sayre who dictated how the line to Flushing be laid for his convenience. This capitalist had as his archenemy the author's grandfather, a self-taught tycoon from the lumber caps who could, and did, punch his way out of business situations involving Ira. It's from the world of ""Where Did You Go?"" ""Out."" ""What Did You Do?"" ""Nothing."" Mr. Love had no dull relatives and records none of the dull moments between early childhood and the border line of adolescence. When you say Reader's Digest level, intellectual readers shudder delicately, but then, there are all those others.