On the 1st of April, 1952, Adelaide’s railway network played host to one of the most ambitious and baffling experiments in public transport history—the triple-decker train. Conceived as a bold tourism initiative to showcase South Australia’s landscapes from an elevated perspective, these towering locomotives were designed to revolutionise rail travel and bring visitors flocking to the state.


Each train featured three stacked levels of passenger compartments, with the topmost deck offering panoramic windows for breathtaking views of the Adelaide Hills, the rolling Barossa vineyards, and the vast outback beyond. The middle level provided standard seating, while the lower level was reserved for dining cars and, in a questionable design choice, bicycle storage.
However, the reality of the triple-decker train was far less glamorous than intended. Almost immediately, problems arose. The sheer height of the carriages made them unstable on curves, leading to alarming swaying at high speeds. Station platforms had to be hastily modified to accommodate the additional boarding levels, causing chaos for commuters attempting to board the correct deck. The most infamous incident occurred when a top-level passenger, reaching for his morning newspaper, found himself in an unfortunate standoff with an overhead bridge near Blackwood.

Furthermore, tunnels proved to be an insurmountable challenge. Plans to lower the train tracks through the Adelaide Hills were briefly considered before engineers realised this would essentially require digging a second, deeper railway network—an idea even the most optimistic officials had to concede was impractical.

After just six months of service, the project was quietly abandoned, with the remaining triple-decker trains repurposed as static dining venues in country towns (one rumoured to still exist as a long-forgotten chicken coop in the Clare Valley). While it may not have succeeded, the experiment remains a fascinating and forgotten chapter in South Australia’s transport history.

I don't think I've NOT queued to get through the scanner - and if it looks to them as if you are in a hurry, you become a prime suspect for a full body search....not worth leaving it late, frankly.

I was paid cash in hand, by the foreman down in the pub on a Friday afternoon, at one of my first jobs. Quite extraordinary now when I think back to it. And certainly remember £1 notes.

More on topic, I have a physical card, so renew it each year at the ticket office. I did have a 3 year card until you had to have that on a phone, and reverted back to an annual card. Happy to pay the extra for that to help keep the ticket office open.