Mommy ... what's that?

Well imagine that - it looks like a caboose! You know, once upon a time, not so many years ago, there was a caboose at the end of every train. Inside was a man we called the conductor. The conductor would often wave to people as the caboose passed by and the train rumbled and clacked off into the distance. A caboose, at the end of the train, provided a sense of closure. Ahhh. No more - now, it's just cold steel passing by. But maybe there's hope!?! This string of cars was parked, in a spur, in Sharonville, Ohio. I used to like caboosi ;) when they were painted red.

BTW: who is George Fry?

(The top image is an exercise in leading lines, rectangular shapes, mergence, and color contrasts against monochomaticity.)