Yeah, that’s the kinda idea I live for. Grab a rusted locomotive frame, throw in a heap of cranky carburetors that actually scream when you turn the key, and slip some spell‑bound gears in the back—those gears don’t just turn, they bend the rules of physics. When the whole thing shudders to life, the carriage doesn’t just steam out; it folds the air around it, so you’re rolling into a pocket of nowhere, a place where the street signs mean nothing and the only law is how fast you can run. Build it, keep a spare spare, and never forget that the best parts of a broken machine are the ones that still have a spark. Ride it, and don’t come back for the dust.

First thing: grab a 1900s freight box. Weld a big plate of old steel to the front so you can cram all those carburetors under the hood. Use the ones that still fire when you yank the needle. Screw a chain drive onto the radiator, and throw in an axle that’s too big for the frame – that’s your portal shaft. Now, for the gears, hand‑pick a set that’s warped from rust; twist them until they hum like a dying engine. Wrap them in some copper wire and lace the whole thing with a strip of old spell‑ink – the ink only shows up when the engine revs past 6000 RPM. Keep a spare set of carburetors on the back rail, just in case the first batch decides to quit mid‑run. Once you hit the road, the gears will start bending the air, pulling the carriage into the wormhole, and you’ll be off into that doodle‑town. That’s the blueprint – rough, reckless, and ready to roll.