Our small wonders

Andrew Mathieson
THE COMMON joke among Geelong’s model engineers is that garages serve only one useful purpose.
It’s where Alec Briggs, Bob Julian, both 75, and David Mann hover at Laurie Braybrook’s place riveted over their mechanical models, set on a table the size of a family sedan.
“You can’t have a car in here,” Bob quips.
They all laugh like it’s an inside joke.
Wet vehicles inside the garage are especially a no-no because, as Laurie explains, the water can affect the models lying around. As such, the cars are often left outside on the street to fight the elements instead.
Garages are really the group’s workshops where they bring their working, scale-model engines to life.
In fact, a work space was essential to Alec’s search for a house with his new wife.
“We were looking at houses and I knew right away this was where I was going to be,” Alec recalls.
“There was a big shed around the back and a swing right in front, so you couldn’t get a car in.
“I thought ‘This is perfect’.”
The group forms the nucleus of Geelong Society of Model and Experimental Engineers, founded in 1993 by now 84-year-old Laurie.
The first big E stands for experimental, Alec emphasis.
“We learn from our mistakes,” Alec says.
Or, as Laurie clarifies, “It’s always complete but never finished”.
The other men nod in unison.
The membership comprises tradesmen and diesel mechanics alike but include a few office pen-pushers and even a doctor.
They meet at night and at day – in sessions light-heartedly called the “geriatrics” club for retirees – just to marvel at the detail of their miniature engines.
“Over the years I always went to the workshop in my spare time after tea,” Laurie says.
“Now after tea, I seem to sit down and have a sleep.”
Some of their models are based on old steam engines dating back to the early 1800s when factories pumped water out of mines before rotary motion was discovered.
“They were big and cumbersome,” Laurie says, describing the engines.
“Some of the original fly wheels weighed 95 tonnes.”
The men all sheepishly agree the engines are an extension of their boyhood dreams.
One of society’s members is building a submarine. Another even has his own steam locomotive, accompanied by track to match.
“It’s like taking the model railway thing on steroids,” David humorously pipes in.
Most like to build boats, aeroplanes and, of course, steam engines, often controlled by a computer or remote controls.
Not that everything produced requires a bit of steam – one bloke built a record player to rival an old gramophone.
“They built the speakers and all,” Bob adds, “and it was better quality than what you buy.”
Sitting now comfortably in retirement, Laurie explains model engines for him were a sanctuary away from a tougher life.
Just a trip to Torquay for the day was thrill during the Depression years.
“When we were kids, we didn’t have much,” he recollects.
“I was a kid in Swan Hill and all you had were rotten rabbits and Murray cod.
“I mean, you had a gun when you were four years old.”