It's officially called "Streetcar 1724," but I call it a streetcar named desire. There it sits, resplendently rehabbed and refurnished, looking just as snazzy as did it did back in the '40s, when it took passengers through town.

Whoever said time doesn't stand still has not paid a visit to the Senator John Heinz History Center, a century-old icehouse that has been transformed into a six-floor repository of all things timeless and treasured. I so desired a ride on the streetcar until I spotted the stainless steel sedan (one of only four in existence, still operable even with nearly 300,000 miles on it). I smile when I think it would be like riding in a huge Amana, or perhaps in this neck of the woods, I better say Westinghouse.

Look! There's a 1784 covered wagon! A 1939 convertible speedster! A 1919 fire truck!

I'm on vehicular overload, and I'm only in the lobby.

Every corner into which I sneak, every gallery into which I step, boasts Things to See. A lock of George Washington's hair. An aluminum bikini and dress made by Oscar de la Renta. (How do you spot clean them? Brillo?) Mr. Rogers' Sperry Top-Siders and cardigan sweater. A roller-coaster car from Kennywood. I get lost as I go up and down, this way and that, through permanent and temporary exhibition spaces. At one point I find myself eye-to-horn with Lola, a fiberglass Stegosaurus whose decoupaged body pays homage to the city. Another time, I am sticking my hand under a plastic shelf to see what a Super Bowl ring would look like on my pudgy index finger.

Then the tears come.

I am standing in front of a tribute to 9/11. I press a button and for three and a half minutes watch former Pittsburgh newscaster Nina Pineda report on the carnage. A case holds Father Joe McCaffrey's portable Mass kit, holy water bottle and rosary beads used at the crash site of Flight 93; another holds a small section of a seat belt found at the same site. But it's the last case that makes me weep. There is Greensburg resident Judy Colfer's canvas briefcase; the case is black but flecked with white dust. I read that Colfer -- who reached the ground floor of the trade center mere moments before it collapsed -- tried to wash away the dust several times but it would not come out, "a permanent reminder of that fateful day."

I sit, lost in thought and prayer.

Moments later, I am greeted by Andy Masich, the center's president and chief executive officer. Today is his birthday, and he's taking a few minutes to give me a whirlwind tour. He waxes poetically over a lifelike figure of a forlorn George Washington, circa 1754; in the Sports Museum, he rigorously roots for the Steelers to win, even though he knows the outcome. The emphasis is on whirl as we run through the place, past selected Andy favorites. Look! The Steelers really had cheerleaders! Look! There's Lance Armstrong's gear! Look! Lewis and Clark artifacts! Look! The oldest Jeep on the planet!

Whew! We are back in the lobby, almost at the spot where my adventure began. It has been several hours, and I realize I cannot score a complete visit of more than 250 years of regional history in a few hours. I think of the banner hanging on front of the building: COME SEE PITTSBURGH'S PASTIMES.

Yes, come see them.

But plan on spending a few days, or you'll end up like me, in a daze.