Monday, October 24, 2016


Y90, a unit coal-extra, returns to the original Pennsylvania Railroad alignment atop Allegheny Mountain after descending “The Slide,” PRR’s 2.28% ramp up to New Portage Tunnel. Two helper-sets (four units) help hold the heavy train back as it descends the mountain. The train is going away. Lots of fall-foliage. (Photo by Jack Hughes.)

“I’m retired, nyuk-nyuk-nyuk!” I said to my railfan brother-in-Boston. “I can do this.”
Much as I didn’t look forward to another jaunt to Altoona, PA, since I had just done it the previous weekend.......
I made a mistake of thinking our Altoona trip was a previous weekend, so when I called my brother he was at work.
Altoona is where the Pennsylvania Railroad took on Allegheny Mountain back in the 1800s.
Pennsy is no more. Now it’s Norfolk Southern Railway, but the same track.
Our intent was fall-foliage, which was thin that previous weekend.
My brother was also expecting the death of a friend, but “Let’s go!”
“Oh Jack,” I thought, but all I had to do was get my ducks in a row: arrange dog-boarding, reserve a motel in Altoony, try to not forget anything.......
And hope my camera didn’t lob some curve at me. My earlier Nikon D100 did sometimes, but my Nikon D7000 hasn’t yet.
Thursday is the day I drove. Anything we shot that day, me after I arrived, is all we got.
It poured rain all day Friday, so we  left.
My brother drives there Wednesday, so he can photograph all day Thursday.
Sometimes the weather in Altoona is awful. It’s happened before.
My wife and I were planning to chase trains with Altoona railfan Phil Faudi (“FOW-dee;” as in “wow”), and it started snowing.
Another time my wife and I rode the funicular alone up to the Horseshoe Curve viewing-area, but it was pouring and the wind howling like a hurricane.
We turned around and rode back down right away.
My wife died over four years ago.
Most photographs are by my brother, since it was him alone while I was driving down.
Allegheny Crossing is five hours south of where I live.
The sun was out, but I arrived about 3 p.m., which gave me about two hours — 2&1/2 pushing it.
My brother began at Brickyard Crossing in Altoona. It’s actually Porta Road, but a brickyard was once nearby.
It’s the only mainline grade-crossing of the PRR in Altoona.

35A at Brickyard. (Photo by Jack Hughes.)

At that time of day, Brickyard only works east of the tracks. West is too backlit.
He also got Amtrak’s eastbound Pennsylvanian — the only passenger-train left on this storied line.
There also is westbound late afternoon, but Pennsy once flooded this line with passenger-trains.

Amtrak’s eastbound Pennsylvanian at Brickyard. (Photo by Jack Hughes.)

My brother then chased 35A up the mountain, beating it to Gallitzin, top of the mountain, where Pennsy dug its original tunnel. That tunnel has since been enlarged to clear doublestacks, and two tracks instead of one.

35A crests The Hill in Gallitzin. (Photo by Jack Hughes.)

From there he drove down to “The Slide,” 2.28%, the ramp Pennsy built to get up to New Portage Tunnel, part of a new portage railroad the state built to make its Public Works System more attractive.
Public Works was a combination canal and railroad installed by the state to compete with NY’s Erie Canal.
Since Allegheny Mountain couldn’t be canaled, a portage railroad was installed, and originally had inclined planes.
Canal boats got put on railroad flatcars, for winching up the planes.
That new portage railroad was devoid of planes.
Pennsy put it out-of-business, bought if for peanuts, and abandoned everything but the tunnel and New Portage right-of-way.
But New Portage Tunnel is slightly higher than Pennsy’s original tunnel.
That tunnel and right-of-way were reactivated to add to Pennsy’s capacity over the mountain.
The railroad was again abandoned, but the tunnel is still in use. It now contains Track One eastbound. Since that tunnel is higher, a ramp had to be built to get back to the original Pennsy alignment — that ramp is called “The Slide.” At 2.28% it’s steeper than Pennsy’s main up the east slope, which averages 1.75%.
My lede picture is Y90 coming off The Slide to the original Pennsy alignment.
My brother then drove north (railroad east) toward Tyrone to Gray Interlocking, hoping to beat Y90.

Y90 heads east through Gray, helper-set still upfront. (Photo by Jack Hughes.)

Gray Interlocking is where a controlled (signaled) siding merges back into Track One.
He got Y90, and also an empty coal-train off the Nittany & Bald Eagle.

537 comes off the Nittany & Bald Eagle. (Photo by Jack Hughes.)

NBER is the old Pennsy Bald Eagle branch, now a cast-off shortline, but Norfolk Southern has trackage-rights. A coal-fired electric plant is up that way, and NS also uses those trackage-rights to get mixed freight to and from Northumberland.
NBER is built like a mainline — to support those heavy NS coal-trains. 120-ton coal gondolas.
My brother then drove back toward Altoona for lunch, which was about when I arrived. He went to 24th Street overpass in Altoona, which is over Slope Interlocking.

67T (empty oil) moves through Slope Interlocking. (Photo by Jack Hughes.)

We met at Brickyard, and both shot 23Z, a westbound.

23Z approaches Brickyard Crossing. (Photo by Jack Hughes.)

My brother’s picture was better. I had forgotten to take a lens-filter off, and it seems to flatten color.
We then drove over to UN (telegraph address), just west of Gallitzin, where Pennsy had a loop back toward Altoona.

23M charges through UN. (Photo by BobbaLew.)

That loop was so helpers could loop back to Altoona.
Now helpers continue west, since as diesel-electrics they can provide dynamic-braking.
The traction-motors get turned into generators, and they provide braking to help slow a train downhill.
But the loop is still there, since the railroad can use it to turn trains.
For example, Norfolk Southern’s Executive Business-Train is parked in Altoona aimed west.
But it needs to go east.
Up The Hill it goes to that loop at UN, so it can come back aimed east.
It’s not like model-trains, where a big hand drops from the sky, flips the locomotives 180°, then reassembles the train.
We then headed toward Bennington Curve, just east of the top of the mountain, where Pennsy’s Red Arrow cracked up in 1947.
It came down The Slide too fast, and flipped into a ravine next to Bennington Curve. 24 died.
I wasn’t sure we could get to it. We have to use the abandoned New Portage right-of-way, which is now an access-road to the mainline, and is sometimes locked.
It wasn’t locked this time, but you have to use a long dirt-track not portrayed in Google satellite-views, nor marked.
So down the dirt-track we flew. My brother had never been to Bennington Curve.
We knew Amtrak’s westbound Pennsylvanian was coming, but about 5:30 = minimal light.
My brother turned off on a small access before Bennington Curve. We argued which was better, his location or Bennington Curve.
“You shoot there, and I’ll shoot Bennington,” I said.

Westbound Pennsylvanian just above Bennington. (Photo by Jack Hughes.)

His picture was better, since mine at Bennington blurred from slow shutter-speed due to low light.
We hung around for one more train, me now with my brother.

21M continues up The Hill above Benny. (Photo by BobbaLew.)

His point-and-shoot versus my fiddle-dee-dee. His camera is probably automatically upping the ISO to offset low light, whereas mine requires input.
What his point-and-shoot won’t do is set the shutter-speed fast enough to stop a train. I shoot shutter-priority, 1/400th or faster.
He might shoot the same view as me, but the fronts of locomotives are blurred.


Tuesday, October 18, 2016

*** ******

I wonder what became of *** ******?
(No names. I don’t wanna get sued.)
*** was a tall, thin, tawny girl I lusted after in 11th grade.
*** was Class of “64; I’m ’62.
Which means she hit 70 if still alive. I’m 72.
*** was very much into horseback riding, as was I, since I was a riding instructor at my summer camp.
But I rode western, and she rode English. We had an English saddle I used often, but our horses were neck-reiners = western.
I got fairly good at it. The fact I was a stablehand meant I could ride a lot.
So I hoped we could share experiences, and thus become friends.
Didn’t happen, and I doubt it could have.
English tends to be hoity-toity. Western is perceived as inferior.
*** was also in love with her horse — like going steady.
I don’t remember if she actually owned a horse. It may have been the horse she was assigned, owned by someone else.
I used to drive home from Wilmington passing her house, which was on a residential street in a nearby development. We lived north of Wilmington, DE at that time.
Horses aren’t men. They don’t belch or spit or badmouth your mother. Nor do they guzzle beer while pigging out on wings, watching NASCAR or football. (“That little cheater!”)
She showed up in her riding outfit once. Very pretty in knee-high boots, cropped dark coat, and velvet riding-cap atop her tawny brown hair.
I think I tried to talk to her, but at mention of the word “western” I crashed mightily.

Mixed signals

“Okay, where are ya?” I asked my brother-from-Boston via cellphone. “I’m approaching Tyrone.”
I was expecting him to be in Altoona already, photographing trains.
“Yer a week off,” he said. “I’m at work.”
“That’s wonderful,” I thought. “No money. No scanner.” All-of-a-sudden my trip to Altoona became just a vacation from reality.
Fortunately the railroad is busy enough to not hafta wait too long flying blind.
Normally I use a railroad-radio scanner to know where trains are, and my scanner needs to be replaced.
My brother always brings his.
There had been a misunderstanding. Our trip to Altoona was to be this coming weekend. I had it as this past weekend.
I didn’t get many photographs: only five worth sharing.
I wanted fall-foliage shots, but trees hadn’t turned much. Fall-foliage was almost nonexistent at lower altitudes.
I thought it might be better up on the mountain, and it was, sometimes.
My schtick was to be where light was good, and that’s only about 9 a.m. to 3 p.m. this time of year. —5:30 if I push it.
I also wanted to try new locations, and I knew the light would be right at those.
My first photo is off Oak Street overpass toward Ehrenfeld (PA) north (railroad east) of South Fork.
In back is the sewer-plant, and the train is hauling containers of trash.
All trash; a unit-train of trash.
The train was beastly long, and rated help up The Hill. Those two 6300s up front are a helper-set.

All trash. (Photo by BobbaLew.)

Not much fall-foliage.
My second picture is around 1:45. Any later and shadows become a problem — earlier is backlit.
The picture is in Gallitzin, top of the mountain.

Westbound stacker in Gallitzin. (Photo by BobbaLew.)

Still not much fall-foliage, even atop the mountain — at least not here in Gallitzin.
The tunnel is the original Pennsy tunnel enlarged to clear doublestacks. And it used to be only one track; now it’s two (Three and Two).
Track One is on the other side of town in New Portage tunnel.
The lead locomotive is one of the SD60Es, which I think are ugly.
It’s that brow over the windshield; the 6900s and 7000s are a Norfolk Southern rebuild of an SD-60, repowered with a new 4,000 horsepower engine. (Originally 3,800 horsepower.)
Plus it also has the new so-called “Crescent Cab,” which has that brow.
The sun was out, and pretty strong. Only thin cirrus.
The third photo is strong telephoto of a westbound stacker emerging from the old Pennsy tunnel in Gallitzin.

Oh well..... (Milepost 248, top of The Hill.) (Photo by BobbaLew.)

I don’t think much of this photograph; telephoto often bombs.
The next photo is at UN (telegraph address), where a helper-loop looped back toward Altoona, so helpers up The Hill could go back down.
UN is just west of Gallitzin.

Only one red tree. (Photo by BobbaLew.)

This is my best shot, but only one tree is changed.
The westbound on Three was passing an eastbound on Two.
“Was it a wide-cab?” my brother asked.
“Yep.” I said.
It’s a calendar-picture, but fall-foliage I don’t know.
My final picture is at Bennington Curve, where Pennsy’s Red Arrow cracked up in 1947. It came down “The Slide” too fast, then flew off the track into a ravine at Bennington Curve.
The Slide was 2.36% at that time — now it’s 2.28% — not too steep, but fairly. It’s a ramp up to New Portage tunnel, part of a new Portage railroad put in by the state to make its Public Works System more attractive.
Public Works was a combination canal and railroad meant to compete with NY’s Erie Canal.
Allegheny Mountain couldn’t be canaled, so was portaged with a railroad. That railroad originally had inclined planes.
Canal boats got put on railroad flatcars that got winched up the planes.
A new portage railroad was later installed devoid of inclined planes.
New Portage tunnel is slightly higher than the original Pennsy tunnel.
Pennsy put Public Works out of business, bought it for peanuts, and abandoned everything but the tunnel and New Portage Railroad’s right-of-way.
Later both were reactivated to add to Pennsy’s capacity over the mountain.
The railroad has been again abandoned, but New Portage tunnel is still used. First it had two tracks, but now only has one: Track One eastbound.
I didn’t know whether I could get to Bennington Curve. Phil Faudi (“FOW-dee;” as in “wow”) and I went there a few years ago, but you hafta use the old Portage right-of-way to get to the road to it.
That right-of-way is now an access-road, and is sometimes locked.
Phil is the railfan from Altoona I once chased trains with.
The road to Bennington is not fully visible in Google Satellite-views, nor is it marked.
The access-road wasn’t locked this time.
Down the dirt-track to Bennington I charged. It was after 4, but I knew the sun would be directly into the curve.
I also knew Amtrak’s westbound Pennsylvanian was coming, so I waited at Benny.
The sun was still out, shining directly into the trees, which were stridently colored.

Amtrak 07T, the westbound Pennsylvanian. (Photo by BobbaLew.)

Finally Amtrak’s westbound Pennsylvanian appeared. It was nearing 5:30. The sun was still on the trees, but the train was falling into shadow.
The picture has color, but I think it’s stupid. A mere side-elevation which shows how plain Amtrak’s GENESIS© units are.
Supposedly they’re more crash-worthy, and have fuel-tanks where they won’t rupture.
But I think they look stupid.
As I understand it (I may not be right), the people that styled these things also styled the recent Cadillacs. Chisel it!

• “Reality” is the fact my wife died over four years ago, so I live alone (with our dog). It ain’t easy.


Thursday, October 13, 2016

Train trip

Our ex New York Central Alco RS32 #2035. (Photo by BobbaLew.)

“Those locomotives were built back when men were men, and women were men,” said one of our hosts on an Alumni train trip.
I will only say our host was head-honcho at the Medina Railroad Museum in Medina, NY.
The so-called “Alumni” are the union retirees (Local 282, the Rochester local of the nationwide Amalgamated Transit Union) of Regional Transit Service (RTS) in Rochester, NY, and environs.
For 16&1/2 years (1977-1993) I drove transit bus for Regional Transit.
The Alumni was a reaction to the fact Transit management retirees ran roughshod over union retirees — a continuation of the bad vibes at Transit: management versus union.
Transit had a club for long-time employees, and I was in it. It was called the “15/25-year Club;” I guess at first the “25-year Club.” But they lowered the employment requirement, and renamed it “15/25-year Club.”
The employment requirement was lowered even more; I joined at 10 years.
My employ there ended in 1993 with my stroke; and the “Alumni” didn’t exist then. The Alumni is allied with our bus-union — you have to join.
The museum has two E-units, I think E-8s, painted in New York Central colors, stored unserviceable, I think. They were originally New York Central, but eventually became Amtrak.
New York Central lightning-stripe Es.
Then Medina Railroad Museum got them when they were retired, and painted them back into New York Central colors, mainly gray with the lightning-stripe scheme.
Our car was an old Chesapeake & Ohio dining-car, so they said, repainted into New York Central colors, outfitted inside with tables and chairs to be a dining-car.
We had assigned seating, me with retired union vice-president Gwindell Bradley and his significant-other. We also sat with a retired bus mechanic who said hardly anything.
The railroad is the original “Falls Road” from Rochester to Niagara Falls.
New York Central merged it in 1853 and it became its “Falls Road Branch,” diverting from the NYC main in Rochester.
Into Rochester was abandoned, but from Lockport still remains to serve an ethanol plant in Brockport, NY.
Falls Road had a gigantic station in Medina, and that became the Medina Railroad Museum.
Falls Road wasn’t very challenging. It’s pretty straight over flat land.
The Falls Road bridge over the State Barge (Erie) Canal.
Perhaps its greatest challenge was to get the railroad over the Erie Canal in Lockport.
From the bridge you can see the multiple locks to get the canal up the Niagara Escarpment.
At the bridge the railroad is 80 feet above the canal.
Medina Railroad Museum does dinner-train excursions, except ours was a lunch-excursion, sandwiches supplied by the museum.
Ours was also supposed to be a fall-foliage excursion, except local foliage was only about 30-40%.
My question was whether the E-units would be restored to operation.
The guy claimed they’ll pull excursions next year, recreating New York Central’s Twentieth Century Limited, it’s premier New York-to-Chicago train, using cars the museum already has.
Dream on, baby! Medina Railroad Museum is not a railroad shop. What’s done is done by volunteers.
You don’t just fully overhaul four giant diesel-engines (two per unit) with volunteers.
I predict those E-units will eventually be put on static display, cosmetically restored. —That is, repainted for outdoor display.
If they can get ‘em runnin’, great! But I doubt they’ll ever run.
The Levin Es. (Photo by BobbaLew.)
A few years ago I rode excursions from Altoona (PA) with E-units restored by the Levin brothers of Baltimore.
They were originally Conrail’s Executive Es, rebuilt and restored in Conrail’s Juniata Shops (“june-eee-AT-uh”); that is, they have new diesel-engines — two per unit.
Both were repainted in Pennsy colors, although I think one was originally Erie-Lackawanna.
The Levin brothers got locos in good shape. I doubt Medina Railroad Museum’s Es are anything other than wore out.
The Levins did an exemplary job to get those Conrail Executive Es back in service. But they had good locomotives to start with.
The host moved over to the table adjacent. He noticed the veterans hat on a retired bus-driver.
“Where did you serve?” he asked.
“Korea,” the driver said.
“That was back when men were men, and women were men.”
The host then moved to the table across from us.
“That was back when men were men, and women were men.”
Again, “Hardee-Har-Har-Har!”
“I swear that guy said that to at least three tables so far,” I observed.
I could hear it being said again at a fourth and fifth table.
Sadly, I think Bradley might have degraded some. He didn’t seem as sharp as I remember.
We’re all getting older. Bradley is older than me — I’m 72.
“This train goes any faster,” he said; “and we’ll be in Rochester soon.”
The Falls Road no longer goes to Rochester, and we were doing about 30-35.
Pretty good for a shortline railroad — that is, a cast-off from a much larger railroad.
The line was probably funded by government authorities to keep supplying rail service to lineside businesses.
I’ve ridden shortlines limited to 5-10 mph, bucketing this-way-and-that over rudimentary track.
Often an outside operator is brought in to operate the railroad, in this case Genesee Valley Transportation.
I guess the museum rented a locomotive and crew to come out and pull its cars. GVT also now owns the railroad.

• I had a stroke October 26th, 1993, from which I pretty much recovered. Just tiny detriments; I can pass for never having had a stroke.

Monday, October 10, 2016

The dreaded P-word

Yrs Trly has finally figgered The Donald’s P-word.
It’s in the 11-year-old recording of The Donald reflecting his opinion of women.
The TV-News plays it over-and-over, and every time The Donald gets to the P-word, the networks bleep it, and substitute P****.
I decided it’s “privates,” although that ain’t what I think it actually is.
This blog believes in taste and decorum, apparently more so than The Donald.
Every time I hear it, I think “For cryin’ out loud, Donald. I’ve made too many female friends by not grabbing their privates.”
Of course, I ain’t a billionaire.
Is that what it takes; lust for demeaning all-and-sundry?
If this is what “Making America great again” means, a return to barbarism, pillage, and intimidation, I don’t want it.
I make it a point to not discuss politics or religion in this blog. I don’t wanna lose friends — I expect to lose friends over this blog.
But I worry about our country; that our 240-year experiment with democracy may be drawing to a close.
Can anyone reunite us? Perhaps the Russkies or Kim Jong Un.
Not Hillary. Not when so many want her in prison.
The other day I passed a lawn-sign altered to read “Hillary for prison.”
The honkies may be so mad they rebel. Sidearms unleashed.
Stoked by Limbaugh and The Donald, although I think Limbaugh has been Trumped.

Sunday, October 09, 2016


....Or perhaps I should shout Hex-KYOOZE me! For applying pencil to paper to prove my brain ain’t failing.
I had a horrible dream the other morning, that I was at the Town Clerk’s Office, and couldn’t remember why I was there.
The clerk tried to humor me into remembering, but it wasn’t working.
I explained I had a stroke and sometimes have difficulty getting words out.
It’s called aphasia. It can make people unable to talk at all.
With me it’s slight, but enough to make people say “Wassa matter? Cat got your tongue?”
This didn’t seem like aphasia. It was a brain-fart, a so-called “senior moment.”
I woke up worried my brain was failing.
I remember what a thrill it was to come home after my stroke and find I could still write.
Certain things got vaporized.
Nine years of classical piano training went away. I can no longer play piano.
I suppose I could, but I’m not interested. Too much trouble.
I used to have perfect pitch. I may still have it; but I can no longer hold a tune.
People were horrified I wasn’t singing as my father was lowered into the grave, but I couldn’t do it. I had to explain to the pastor I couldn’t hold a tune.
I also can no longer draw. In college I drew ’55 Chevys until I was blue-in-the-face. A feeble attempt to get proportions right.
What I needed was a side-elevation photograph I could section.
My ’32 Ford five-window looked pretty good, done that way.
But now my hands are too spastic to draw a straight line, even with a straight-edge.
Again, not interested. Too much trouble.
What I can do is sling words = write. Although I have sloppy keyboarding. But word-processor computer software helps.
Mistypes get flagged as misspells.
What a joy it was to find word-processing could let me write = something I enjoyed doing anyway.
I may be wrong, but I consider my ability to still sling words indicates my brain isn’t failing yet.
But I am getting older. “Now why did I open this refrigerator door?”
“What did I do with the cereal? Maybe it’s still in the carton — I’m capable of that.
Nope; not there.
Why there it is, on top of my chest-of-drawers. Right were I dropped it.”
I don’t go out without checking the stove first.
Brain-farts all, that come with advancing age. But I can still sling words.

• I had a stroke October 26th, 1993, and it slightly compromised my speech. (Difficulty finding and putting words together.)


Friday, October 07, 2016

Another tree falls in the forest

“According to the Paperwork Reduction Act of 1995, no persons are required to respond to a collection of information unless it displays a valid OMB control number.
The valid OMB control number for this information collection is 0938-0990.
The time required to complete this information collection is estimated to average eight hours per response initially, including the time to review instructions, search existing data resources, gather the data needed, and complete and review the information collection.
If you have comments concerning the accuracy of the time estimate(s) or suggestions for improving this form, please write to: CMS, 7500 Security Boulevard, Attn: PRA Reports Clearance Officer, Mail Stop C4-26-05, Baltimore, Maryland 21244-1850.”

—If you were able to read all of the above, without -a) falling asleep, or -b) throwing up your hands in horror:
My first reaction was WHA-A-A-?????
It’s added to a notification from my former employer, Regional Transit Service. I can join a Medicare Part-D prescription coverage plan, if I wish — I guess.
Or I can stick with what I already have, so-called “creditable coverage.”
What, pray tell, is that?
Right now my prescription copays don’t break the bank.
I don’t expect to become diabetic, and my blood-pressure medication is minimal. I don’t have a cholesterol problem, and don’t expect I will.
My health insurance is a benefit of having worked at Regional Transit.
When I had my stroke 23 years ago hospitalization was paid in full, including hospital rehabilitation.
Recently my prostate was removed, and that was paid in full too. My knee replacement was also paid in full.
My bus-union was loudly badmouthed, but thanks to them I ain’t in debtors prison.
Fat-cats had to share. They couldn’t just parade their Mercedes telling us little guys to eat cake.
So what do I make of this note on my letter?
I’ve seen stuff like this before, often on a separate piece of paper.
Or perhaps “This page intentionally left blank.”
Looks like the Paperwork Reduction Act generates more paper.

• “Regional Transit Service” is the public transit-bus operator in Rochester, NY, where I drove transit-bus for 16&1/2 years (1977-1993). My stroke October 26th, 1993 ended that. I retired on medical-disability. I recovered fairly well.

Wednesday, October 05, 2016


“I like your shirt,” said a pretty young lifeguard at the Canandaigua YMCA’s pool.
“What is it about this Three Stooges tee-shirt?” I thought to myself. “That’s the third person today.”
Yrs Trly is doing aquatic therapy in the YMCA pool.
My balance is dreadful, like non-existent.
I catch myself tipping over.
I don’t know if it’s advancing age, or hobbling so long before my knee-change.
I’ve had total replacement of my left knee. I now have a metal knee.
I’m more inclined to think it’s advancing age, since my balance got worse over the past year.
My knee was replaced almost a year ago.
“I grew up imitating the sounds Curly made,” the girl said.
“Nyuk-nyuk-nyuk!” I said.
“Oh, a wise-guy, eh? Here, see this.” POINK!
A few years ago I watched an interview with Moe, the last remaining Stooge.
All-of-a-sudden “A smarty-pants, eh!”
I’m 72; I doubt this lifeguard was over 20.
The Stooges are 1930s I think; most of the cars are late ‘20s or early ‘30s.
All the time I was in high-school, Stooge movies played on our TV. That’s 1960 or so.
That was back when TV only got three channels: the three networks out of Philadelphia. At that time I lived in northern DE.
A local program from Philly played Stooge movies. That program was for kids = entertainment after school.
I had a kid brother with Down Syndrome my parents never institutionalized. Classiest thing they ever did.
I remember his dismay when Nixon resigned. The Stooges were preempted.
“Where’s ‘Tooges? I want ‘Tooges!”
Apparently the Stooges are still playing. A girl 50 years younger than me venerates the Stooges.
No wonder The Donald is running for prez. I hope Hillary-dillery says the following in the next debate:
“Sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me.”