The Railroad Storehouse

Now that I think about it, it was called the storeroom, not storehouse, but it were more of a house though.
Why I know about it, my daddy worked there before he went off to WWII. I was a little fellow and my daddy would load me up in this little A model Ford he drove. It had a wood part on the back my daddy built what he used to carry groceries, caught-fish, shot-birds and rabbits, and other things that needed hauling, and off we would go to his 3 to 11 shift. He worked in the office and when a worker needed a part Daddy would have him write out his order and then all three of us would go back and find what was needed. The storeroom was at least a city block long and half a block across. When things warn't busy Daddy would let me wander all over the place long as I stayed inside. They had all kinds of steel rods, screws, bolt and washers, big engine parts, batteries, light bulbs, and my favorite thing of all fusees (them things you could strike real hard against something and it would light up like nothing you ever seen, so
railroad mens could warn others coming along if they was a wreck or something.) Outside they had barrels of oil and kerosine and Daddy would hold a jug under the spout and crank out a jugful for the worker.
I could use the typewriter and rearrange the paperweights as long as we was by ourselves. Back then I wanted to be a storeroom worker real bad, but when Daddy got called up I reckon I kinda forgot about it.
Tomorrow: The Caboose