“You need to hold the longs for six seconds each,” he said as I engineered a blue 1952 diesel switch engine train down the track through rural Starke County. “Not four seconds, not five seconds. But six seconds.”
It was the longest — and loudest — six seconds of my life.
“It’s meant to be long and loud for safety requirements,” said Kosloske, a certified train engineer.
I throttled the train down to 5 mph as we chugged through a railroad crossing. A motorist waved at me from a stopped vehicle. I was too engrossed in operating the train to wave back. The little boy in me managed a goofy smile.
“Remember, it should be five miles-per-hour. Not seven, not eight… five,” Kosloske told me, double-checking my speedometer.
This train operates over the former C&O mainline tracks out of North Judson, home of the Hoosier Valley Railroad Museum, established in 1988 by volunteers. The organization offers the hour-long “throttle time” experience to guest engineers, as well as 45-minute train rides to guests each Saturday.
Guest engineers are allowed to climb into the cab of a diesel switch engine with a short train, pull back on the throttle, ring the bell and blow the horn.
“OK, give me three shorts,” Kosloske told me as the train bell rang, the engine chugged and the brakes hissed.
Once upon a time, a significant portion of the working population in North Judson was employed by one of the railroad companies in town. At one time, more than 125 trains passed through this rural community each day.
The town once served as the crucial intersection of four major rail lines: the New York Central, the Pennsylvania, the Chesapeake & Ohio, and the Erie, which would ultimately merge with the Lackawanna in 1960, reflected by the Erie-Lackawanna bike trail in Lake County.
“We are keeping the town’s railroad heritage alive through this museum, these old train cars, and the operation of all this vintage railroad equipment,” explained Bob Jachim, of North Judson, a retired pharmacist who’s been a volunteer here for 30 years.
“Everything you see here was hand-laid. The rails, the switches, the museum, everything. Nothing was at this site but brush and memories,” he told me later during a tour of the sprawling property.
Most guests who sign up for this throttle time experience are novices like me, with no knowledge about trains, locomotive engines or railroad folklore. Others have played online train games and want to experience the real thing. A few are geeked-out fanatics, dressed like Casey Jones and proud to share their knowledge of train-related everything.
“Believe it or not, some of the best guest engineers are autistic,” Kosloske said. “Just the way they’re wired, I think.”
On a recent Saturday, I operated the train for 2-1/2 miles westbound until we reached the Kankakee River, and then we headed back east toward the museum.
“OK, brake off and give it some throttle,” Kosloske said. “Shut off your bell and bring it up to 12 miles per hour. You will eventually need to bring it up to 15.”
It’s noisy, lonely and thrilling inside the cab, watching the never-ending tracks disappear from one end and reappear from the other end. It’s easy to get lost in the fog of nostalgia about trains, hobos, and seeing America from a boxcar.
Bjarne Henderson, the train’s conductor, snapped me out of it.
“You’re clear for 20 cars west,” he told Kosloske through a radio.
The conductor is a train’s senior position, and the engineer takes direction from the conductor. On this train, Henderson was stationed at the caboose.
“The conductor is our eyes when we’re traveling west,” Kosloske explained.
I learned a lot during my hour inside the cab, including how to glance at a gauge but not stare at it, how to look for whistle posts before each crossing, how to use a train’s momentum inside of its throttle, how to chug slowly through switches (the most likely place to derail), and how to operate the brake controls – set, hold and release.
“This is not an amusement park ride,” Kosloske reminded me in no uncertain terms.
Dozens of volunteers from across Northwest Indiana keep the museum in operation.
“It takes a certain amount of dedication to be a volunteer here. You just can’t show up once a month when you want to,” said Kosloske, who also is vice president of the museum.
His wife, Loretta Kosloske, a ridership specialist with the museum, said more dedicated volunteers are needed.
“We’re always in need,” she said.
Shad Vargo, 22, of Hammond, may be the youngest volunteer. He sported a reflective vest while manning a railroad crossing as the train I operated chugged through it.
“My grandparents used to take me here when I was a kid, starting in 2003,” he told me later, noting that he wakes up at 4:30 a.m. each Saturday. “I never thought I’d become a volunteer here. I love doing this.”
I was just as impressed with the volunteers and the work they’ve done here since 1988 as I was with my throttle time inside the cab. Anyone 18 or older with a valid driver’s license and physically able to climb into the engine cab can be a guest engineer, also allowed to bring a guest.
For pricing and more information on train rides, the free museum’s history, and the backstory about these railroads, go to
After I slowed the train to a stop at the museum, I was given an official “throttle time” certificate.
“Congratulations,” Jachim said with a hearty handshake. “You stayed on the tracks.”
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