A Locomotive Ride

It's funny how sometimes one thing leads to another -- a chunk of synchronicity, if you will.

Yesterday, I posted a little bit of melancholia when I caught a Union Pacific freight passing one of my local crossings in the snow. The photo was taken during a very rare break in the snowstorm we had late in the week and the colors of the units were remarkable. I panned the camera as the lead units passed and only the front was in focus, leaving the rest of the train a blur of movement. I really liked the effect, and used the photo for my post.

Today, the snow melted a bit and I went out for more photos. This time I found a train idling not far from home, waiting to be cleared by the dispatcher to enter the main track. I took some photos and got closer, then struck up a conversation with the engineer, who poked his head out the window. He invited me up into the cab and he introduced me to the conductor. The dispatcher cleared him for a move onto the main track and the engineer asked: you want to go for a ride? "Hell yes," I said, not being stupid.

So I went for a ride up and over Donner Pass on a beautifully-blue day over snow-covered tracks and left my locked car many miles behind. We talked about unions, the state of the country, terrorism, what it was like to work for Union Pacific, what it was like to work for Southern Pacific before it was purchased by UP, politics, religion, locomotives, unions, locomotives, Union Pacific, bosses, locomotives, Union Pacific, and many more things.

The engineer let me hit the horn for a bunch of crossings and showed when when to do it -- when you saw the X of the horn board. He taught me to hit the horn in the standard "long-long-short-long" horn language. The bell automatically rang after you hit the horn and he showed me how to clear the bell. I told him some secrets about my job, and he told me some secrets about his.

We stopped in Truckee and I exited there, thanking the engineer and conductor profusely for allowing me into their work lives. We had some things in common and I told a few jokes and they told a few jokes and we realized we were just three American fat guys who tried to hold the country together as best we could, who worked strange and long hours and did what we did because, the bottom line was, truthfully, we enjoyed it.

Folks, I had a helluva time; and I think they enjoyed my company as well. It wasn't the first time I'd ever been invited into the cab for a ride -- but it was the longest ride I'd ever had, and they were the friendliest crew I'd ever encountered. I've been given about 7 or 8 other rides in the past 10 years -- look, I'm old, I'm short, I'm fat and essentially fuzzy and harmless -- and I take good photographs and tell good stories. Sometimes I even bring brownies and cookies. Many UP employees already know who I am and honk at me in the mountains.

They could get in big, big trouble for doing what they did, so I promised to hold them nameless and not provide any locomotive numbers in the photos. No one is supposed to be in any cab at any time, except UP employees.

It's still nice to see that people can occasionally still be people and appreciate one another's job.

Even as I write this, a few hours later, it is dark; and I can still hear the plaintive horns in the twilight as more locomotives attempt to conquer Donner Pass.

______________________


"Roll on, Southern Pacific -- on your silver rails -- in the moonlight."

-- Neil Young