Graduate Mechanical Engineer, here, Purdue University.
As for the matriculation date, well....I was from the earlier 'PC' era. No, we had no idea what 'politically correct' meant....believe me!
Nope, my PC era was....Punch Cards. Yepper....stood in line for up to hours to have your deck of punch cards run through the campus' only computer (Hamster-powered, I believe); Or, you left your deck to be run sometime through the night...returning the next AM to pick up your accordion-folded stack of green/white paper with all sorts of cyber-cypher all over it. Oops....that one punch card had an error! (Death by 'Do-Loop', they called it!) Re-punch the card...insert in deck...stand in line...repeat. !
No wonder I lost most of the hair on top. I pulled it out, as I recall.
We also carried our trusty Post slide rule around. Anyone else remember those?....how to use one?........anyone? Drafting boards. T-squares. Dietzgen instruments. The stuff of museums, now.
But, I digress. My neighbor, Mrs. Miller, had kept telling me from across the fence that my sandbox creations, homemade fruit crate/roller skate scooter-like gizmos on display meant that someday I'd be an engineer. Well, duh! Of course I'd be an engineer!....I loved trains! From the earliest Christmas in memory, I had been a bona fide ferroequinologist-in-process.
The brain has a way of absorbing that neighborly banter through childhood. Years later I found myself applying for admission to college/university....to become an engineer.
Try as I did, I never found the train. They did give me this piece of paper in a 25-cent frame four years later. I tried interviewing at EMD...one last attempt to find a train...but the first question they asked me was 'Are you planning on getting married soon?'. Boy, talk about a no-no in today's context!! But, the only job they had to offer was as a 'trainer'....you'd live out of a suitcase for the next few years, travel the world, fill out expense reports, deliver EMD product, train the local staff on operation/maintenance, etc.. Somehow, it just didn't seem right to tell my fiancé that the wedding was off....in order to be close to trains. The interview ended as quickly as it started.
25 years later, after the divorce, I finally kicked myself.
So, all the frustrations....and rush to happiness...are embodied in this great hobby.
New (17 years) wife also into the hobby.
We're happy!
KD