She Likes Trains: Brave Engineer
Shelley J Alongi

 

Thank you, brave engineer. Tonight I have no numbers, no stunning revelations about trains. What I do have is pure opinion, pleasure, a brave engineer, love, sweet information and access to it. I am reminded of the days when I wandered gloriously through dusty library shelves, moving further away from people and going where the information awaited me. Now I sort through the human library, the vast repositories of information about train operations that stretches out before me. It is my guilty pleasure. I have no guilt. I only have pleasure.

�come everybody if you want to hear,
A story about a brave engineer.�

This phrase begins a 1910 recording of The Ballad of Casey Jones in this version performed by Billy Murray and the American Quartet. There are many versions to this ballad about two trains headed straight for each other, Casey Jones, the brave engineer tells the fireman to jump and saves his life but everyone else dies. There are many versions. The phrase �a brave engineer� shows up all over railroad lore, including a hymn called �Life is Like A Mountain Railway�, and �The Old Wreck of 97� in which the brave engineer loses his air brakes and his life and lies dead in Danville. He didn�t� make it to Spencer on time as instructed by his train orders. From the 1920s on up this phrase appears in all kinds of recorded songs, some recordings so worn one can barely understand the words, but the sentiment is the same. The engineer is always brave.

So what does the brave engineer have to do with me, you wonder? Everything and nothing. You know about my curiosity about the engineers and their stories and the day to day operations of trains. So many find pleasure in pictures, trips to famous train watching spots, writing down numbers. Me, I find my pleasure in knowing the operations no matter how insignificant they may seem to those who undertake these from day to day and slowly but surely I am grasping them one by one. All of my face to face engineers with their nick names calling to me from their perches helps me learn the stories and teaches me one thing at a time, line upon line, precept upon precept as the bible verse says. Maybe the bravest of them all are the Internet based crews who have allowed me access to more information than I might ever need or have time to investigate. But isn�t that the draw? I won�t ever be board whether online or face to face. Just wait till Montana! But remember all my engineers, lineup behind my number 1 engineer, the engineer of my dreams, the right one. He and his wife with 22 cats, he�s the one who gave me the primmer on signals and how they work and explained to me the very basics, and still will, I�m sure. If one has let me on his page, remember this one is still the best; and maybe the bravest. But I�ll take it.

My railroad journey over the last two weeks has been primarily based online. Typing nonstop it seems from December till the second week in February has allowed me to do more searching on Face Book, everyone�s favorite social media. It connects the younger and some of the older railfans at fullerton. It spreads across country, connecting me to working crews, retired crews, maybe those who will take their places among the future train runners of America and beyond. It certainly has kept me interested. There are a few who haven�t added me and that�s okay. I can always look can�t I? Window shop, as Eddie would say.

A very bad case of cabin fever on Saturday February 4, the day the southern California train travel groups rides the Tehachapi�s finds me migrating after my regular working gig to Fullerton where I find freights, and a mother load of opinions. Railfans are always opinionated whether about politics, religion, the proper management and care of cats, or even other railfans on the platform. Tonight is especially productive in the opinion department.

I discover among the wide assortment of opinions tonight that the first engineer brave enough to let me on his Face Book page has a reputation among those who sit at the east end of the platform. No matter. Your opinion hasn�t been prejudiced, someone tells me, and ok fine, I�m all about taking the package as it�s handed to me and I�ve never cared much about people�s opinions, anyway. When we first launched our system at Disney I told my manager I would base my opinion on personal experience. I have an opinion now after three years of experience. I�ll keep it out of these pages. It shouldn�t be repeated in mixed company or any company.

The same principle applies here; I�ll base my opinion on what I experience. Railroaders are known for their opinions, and that�s okay because maybe that�s where I fit in. I�m pretty good at telling people when enough is enough so I�m not worried about this one.

What I am is absolutely fascinated. But you knew that. I already met the best first so I�m not looking for the best, I�m looking for information and experience and a few good men, just like the Army. I�ll take a few good friends, FaceBook or otherwise. I�ve gathered a conductor here and there, all helping me understand directly or indirectly how all this works. I�m fascinated because I�ve seen so many more names from so many more places and read so many more things.

Late at night, after my typing quota for the day is met, is play time in Shelley�s castle. Quiet, the cats tucked away in the open railroad bag or on my bed, Diet Pepsi on the floor beside me, classical music on the radio, I begin the journey through my Face Book pages, window shopping, as Eddie might say; looking. Just looking. This person in this state running this train, that person catching a ride from a port after running a train, comments on policy, Union pacific the railroad everyone loves to hate, gathering its fare share of sarcasm and rude comments �Merry Christmas from UP, one person says. I laugh. The railroad that helped build the transcontinental garners the scorn and contempt of those who collect its bounty in their pay checks, but isn�t that the same with most things? One would have to be completely oblivious to reality if they didn�t admit that most jobs on some days leave little to be desired. There�s a love hate relationship with the things by which we draw our pay; some days you love it, some days you hate it. It makes me happy that I�m not in the minority of those who appreciate but don�t always like their work. This is why there are hobbies, other interests, and other lines of work. No matter. I am comforted with love, satiated with train information, appreciative of opinions expressed by these whom I long to meet about other subjects, sometimes having nothing to do with trains.

Maybe you think I�ve not learned anything about trains while on my foraging frenzy? You would be mistaken, yes, indeed. Taking its place among the transcripts is the story of a Union pacific train hitting some taggers yesterday, an incident that just makes me mad because people continue to be uneducated or uncaring about their proximity to equipment on rails, in other words, they�re just stupid, I learn about other things. There is the saga of the EMD plant in London that supposedly is being shut down because of failure to reach a contract with the union and prevailing market conditions. Open one plant, close another, spread the work from one plant to these other plants. Caterpillar owns Progress Rail who buys Electromotive Division EMD, my sweet engine purring, the ones that some engineers say load slow, and others prefer. We all know I can�t stand the MPI, Motive Power Industries locomotives coming out of Boise, Idaho. I don�t find opinions online about locomotives from those who run them anyway, at least not yet. Maybe I�ll have to wait to the summer for that; I�ll ask and I�m sure I�ll get an ear full. Locomotives and the brave engineers who run them; these are my guilty pleasures. I�ll take them. You knew that.

Back to Saturday night, we sit, we talk about cats, engineers who aren�t dead yet, they must be doing okay, no proposed solutions for Amtrak if one of the presidential candidates really wants to get rid of it. As usually happens on this side of the tracks, people talk over each other interrupt, it is all part of the show. I laugh, supremely confident in my status as the middle-aged, adolescent star struck railfan trying to make contacts with the crews. Locomotives and the people who run them, these are my guilty pleasures. I guess the mechanics are next if I really want to know how to run these things.

Do the crews just push the buttons? Well, some of them certainly push some people�s buttons. That is true wherever you go so I�m not worried about that. There are some railfans that push my buttons, too. All I know, sweet engineers and everyone else, is I met the best first, so line up behind him. Lineup!

The evening ends with a ride home from our most talkative railfan.

�I�m going home to get distracted by Face Book,� I say, and I have another project to start. At this writing, I�ve finished that project and am about to finish another one. Then I�ll go online and play; see how many more names I can gather, how much more information I can get, and maybe, write some ode to some brave engineer somewhere, the ones I�ve met and the ones I haven�t met yet.

Thank you, brave engineer. Tonight I have no numbers, no stunning revelations about trains. What I do have is pure opinion, pleasure, a brave engineer, love, sweet information and access to it. I am reminded of the days when I wandered gloriously through dusty library shelves, moving further away from people and going where the information awaited me. Now I sort through the human library, the vast repositories of information about train operations that stretches out before me. It is my guilty pleasure. I have no guilt. I only have pleasure.

 

 

Copyright © 2012 Shelley J Alongi
Published on the World Wide Web by "www.storymania.com"