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A lot of rolling stock in our world has graffiti and street art painted on them. That got me thinking about how Sodor’s troublesome trucks would feel about it...
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When the trucks first become canvases for Sudrian graffiti artists, some of them don’t like it. They complain the spray paint is cold, or that it itches after a while.
Others, however, see it as an opportunity for mischief. They call out to the artists sneaking into the yards and sidings at night: would they mind painting something specific?
James shatters his gauges upon seeing a vibrant depiction of his bootlace incident emblazoned on his goods train.
All of a sudden, most trucks decide they like this graffiti thing. They strike up close relationships with Sodor’s graffiti artists, “commissioning” them for art of naughty words or embarrassing incidents. In exchange, the trucks hide the artists from the authorities — sometimes inside themselves —and tip them off to places ideal for their art.
The artists are more than grateful for all of this, and they establish a rule amongst themselves: You can’t be a Sudrian graffiti artist unless you respect the trucks. If you say a bad word about them, or paint any of them without their consent, then you’re out.
Over time, the trucks hear from the artists about why they do this. The artists look for beauty in landscapes not always recognized, in the industrial or “grungy” parts of life. They also want art to be more available and accessible to people.
This flatters and touches many trucks, who aren’t called beautiful often. And as a bunch who make music as open to everyone as possible, many more sympathize with the artists’ aspirations. Soon, they ask their friends in between commissions to paint whatever they want on their sides.
Managers try to curtail this, catching artists and scrubbing art from the trucks. But the Fat Controller realizes there’s an upside: Trucks with graffiti don’t want to cause accidents for fear of spoiling their art faster. He institutes a new, unofficial policy: so long as it isn’t “vulgar,” graffiti on trucks should be left alone.
It’s a huge victory for the trucks, even their largest one to date. They’re delighted to share it with their artist friends. (And of course they still find ways to sneak “vulgarities” onto themselves.)
The trucks also love to get bedecked in colors for holidays and special events. Sigrid’s Day, Pride Parades, you name it!
One such event for the trucks is the day Salty came to Sodor. They’re close with him, considering him part of the family. So for the tenth anniversary of his arrival, they plan something special.
Salty rumbles into the dockyard that morning to find all the trucks painted in his livery. His colors glistening on their sides, they sing the very first shanty he ever sang with them.
He stares at them. Then, breaking into a watery grin, he sings along. “Shiver me timbers,” he laughs once the song is over. “I guess ye fine sailors needed a uniform, but I didn’t think it’d be me colors!”
“You’ve been one of us for years,” a lead truck says. “It was about time that we’d all be one of you.”
Not even Cranky — though he denies it — has a dry eye afterwards.
Not sure if you answered questions like this before, but if the humanized engines have wheels, do they move around like those electric scooters you stand on?
As you may recall, our researcher Henry had taken in some larvae he found disturbing his garden. At the time of discovery, they were estimated to be about 1-2 weeks old. He continues to provide them much love and affection, among other necessities, as they approach the ripe ol' age of 5 weeks since discovery (so about 7 weeks old).
Glad to say they have been very slowly growing from their diet of fruits and other divine nectars. They are also starting to learn that they like this new lifestyle and can be a bit too pampered at times.
Artist's sketch of the larvae enjoying their scratches from our researcher. Courtesy of his visiting friend, Gordon, who would otherwise ask for a pack of Umamusume cards in return.