Sunday, September 27, 2009

PhotoBucket®

From now on, every time you see “art” on this here blog, it will be from PhotoBucket.
“Art” is the commonplace newspaper terminology for supporting photos, graphs, maps, etc.
Used to be all my “art” was stored here at BlogSpot.
I would crank a BlogSpot http address into my image-source, and that art would display on this blog.
I can use the following HTML image-tag:
<TABLE ALIGN=LEFT WIDTH=403 HSPACE=4 VSPACE=4 FRAME=1 CELLSPACING=1 CELLPADDING=1><TR><TD ALIGN=CENTER><FONT FACE=HELVETICA color=#000000 SIZE=+1><span style="font-style:italic;"><span style="font-weight:bold;">header</span></span></TD></TR></FONT><TR><TD WIDTH=403><img SRC="???????.jpg" height=hgt width=403></TD></TR><TR><TD ALIGN=RIGHT><FONT FACE=HELVETICA color=#000000 SIZE=-2><span style="font-weight:bold;">Photo by the so-called “old guy” with the dreaded<br>and utterly reprehensible Nikon D100 camera.</span></TD></TR></FONT><TR><TD ALIGN=LEFT><FONT FACE=HELVETICA color=#000000 SIZE=-1><span style="font-style:italic;"><span style="font-weight:bold;">Caption</span></span></TD></TR></FONT></TABLE>
403 is the pixel-width of the art (403 pixels). I fill in the height; whatever it is. The art has a small frame around it. If the art was by someone else, if at all, I change the byline; or delete. The <br> is the break-tag; a one-line drop — I use it as a paragraph return.
(Don’t copy that tag; I had to replace the carets with non-HTML equivalents lest this site read the tag.)
The art can be anything; usually photos, but often scans or screenshots.
Everything was resized down to 5.597 inches wide, and converted to j-peg, resolution of 72 pixels-per-inch. So it displays correctly — at screen-resolution; 72 pixels-per-inch.
5.597 inches is column-width at BlogSpot.
I could use my HTML picture-tag. My Internet browser FireFox displays it right, but Internet-Explorer chokes.
It shoves tiny slivers of my story-text up to the right of the art (into my blurb).
Since I figured most blog-surfers were using Internet-Explorer, I don’t use the HTML picture-table at BlogSpot.
I wrote up my own picture-tag Internet-Explorer doesn’t choke on:
<img src="??????????????????">
<span style="font-weight:bold;">caption. <span style="font-style:italic;">(Photo by ??????????????)</span></span> (Don’t copy this either — same caret change.)
I’ve also noticed if the picture is less than column-width, Internet-Explorer doesn’t choke. —It can be the HTML picture-tag.
“Art” was stored at BlogSpot, perhaps “Picasa®.”
Well, BlogSpot is no longer accepting my art uploads, which leads me to think I inadvertently maxxed an unannounced storage limit.
What to do?
Quite often my blogs needed supporting art.
I needed another storage medium.
My wife suggested “PhotoBucket.”
PhotoBucket trumpets itself as a source for really great photographs. But to me it is only a storage medium.
Browse my “albums,” and ya won’t see any better than what’s on this here blog.
Plus I can delete pictures, so it won’t max. —Couldn’t with BlogSpot.

• For almost 10 years I worked at the Canandaigua Daily-Messenger newspaper, from where I retired almost four years ago. Best job I ever had.
• RE: “‘Old guy’ with the dreaded and utterly reprehensible Nikon D100.......” —My macho, blowhard brother-from-Boston, who is 13 years younger than me, calls me “the old guy” as a put-down (I also am the oldest — 65). I also am loudly excoriated by all my siblings for preferring a professional camera (like the Nikon D100) instead of a point-and-shoot. This is because I long ago sold photos to nationally published magazines.
• My wife of 41+ years is “Linda.” Like me she’s retired, but she works part-time at the West Bloomfield post-office. —Before retiring, she was a computer programmer.

Saturday, September 26, 2009

It’s coming.......

......Control of our cars by Big Motha via satellite.
Yesterday (Friday, September 25, 2009) I worked out at the Canandaigua YMCA.
Over-and-over again an OnStar® ad was on the silent wall-mounted plasma-babies.
The Canandaigua YMCA has three wall-mounted wide-screen high-definition flat-screen TVs. They are permanently tuned to CNN, the Weather-Channel, and a sports channel.
No sound; just closed-captioning.
The ad was a chase of a stolen car from the view of the video-camera in the pursuit car.
The police-cruiser was chasing a stolen GM product equipped with OnStar®.
It zigged and zagged trying to evade the police.
But suddenly it pulled over, apparently disabled from on-high.
“OnStar can stop deadly car chases,” it trumpeted.
I don’t like it.
Other factors can be at play, wherein the judgment of the driver is better.
Just recently, I got stopped for “running a red light,” although I never saw red.
“I coulda slammed on my brakes for that yellow light,” I thought later. “I almost did.”
But I’d been followed a long way by a Glowering Intimidator in a green full-size Ford pickup.
He may have turned south when I turned north, but I thought he might still be behind me.
A prudent driver factors in stuff like that. It’s called ‘defensive driving.’”
Some roadside ‘pyooter gizmo slams on my brakes and I get rear-ended.
And what happens when Big Motha dials back Granny to the speed-limit on the Thruway; 65 mph instead of 80+?

• “Plasma-babies” are what my loudmouthed macho brother-from-Boston calls all high-definition wide/flat-screen TVs. Other technologies beside plasma are available, but he calls them all “plasma-babies.”
• A “Glowering Intimidator” is a tailgater, named after Dale Earnhardt, deceased, the so-called “intimidator” of NASCAR fame, who used to tailgate race-leaders and bump them at speed until they let him pass.
• “‘Pyooter” is computer.
• “Thruway” is the NY state Thruway, Interstate 90.

Friday, September 25, 2009

WXXY?

WJSL, the campus radio-station at my alma mater, Houghton College (“HOE-tin”), is no more.
Or rather, the station still exists, but no longer the original call-letters, W-J-S-L.
They’ve been replaced by W-X-X-Y.
In the early ‘60s, WJSL was hardly a serious commercial radio-station.
It was more an educational tool.
It was AM, but so weak you could hardly get it outside the Houghton community; the college and the town.
In fact, hit the outskirts and it faded away.
As I recall, WJSL had two studios in the original Fine Arts Building, which was little more than a converted WWII modular building.
WJSL had a tiny record-playing studio with two turntables, plus a larger studio that could swallow the college choir.
I don’t remember this ever being used.
Large cases of soda were stored there.
There also was a small closet with a United-Press-International machine.
It wasn’t a ticker-tape machine; it was typing news onto a continuous roll of paper about 8&1/2 inches wide.
First word of the Kennedy assassination came over this machine.
WJSL also had a large control-room to one side of the new auditorium.
That auditorium was remodeled recently, and that control-room disappeared.
During the summer of ‘62 I worked at WJSL; spinning records in that tiny studio.
I remember our transmitter was a two-foot-high gizmo on the floor.
It wasn’t the “Tower-of-Power” I expected.
It was only 12 watts; WKBW in Buffalo was 50,000.
The college was partial to classical music, so over-and-over I played the conclusion to Tchaikovsky’s 1812 Overture.
So much a college janitor, probably my only listener, arrived to see what was up.
Some time ago WJSL affiliated with WXXI, the publicly supported classical-music radio-station in Rochester we listen to.
It was a marriage made in Heaven.
WJSL was essentially a classical-music station.
It could use feeds from WXXI.
It also went FM, and built a hilltop transmitter near Rushford Lake south of town.
It’s semi-independent. It uses WXXI feeds, but also National Public Radio.
One pleasant side-effect of this merger was at long last the staff at WXXI was pronouncing “Houghton” correctly; not “WHO-tin” or “HOW-tin” but “HOE-tin.”
I guess it’s still a college radio-station.
But the call-letters “WJSL” are no more.
And despite the myth advanced by the college’s Christian supporters (it’s a Christian college), “JSL” doesn’t stand for “Jesus’-Saving-Love.”
It stands for “James S. Luckey,” a founder of the college.

Thursday, September 24, 2009

“The trouble with Obama is.......”

Yesterday (Wednesday, September 23, 2009) my wife of nearly 42 years made one of her cogent observations she’s want to make.
Which is why I married her.
She’s like my long-lost cousin Judy, who could carry on an intellectually stimulating conversation.
“The trouble with Barack Obama,” my wife said; “is that he’s too reasonable. He’s always appealing to reason.”
“Yeah,” I shouted. “And that’s the bane of all rational people, especially with fear-mongers like Rush Limbaugh, goosesteeping Annie, and Sarah Palin roiling the populace.”
“Reason doesn’t cut it any more,” she said. “He needs to appeal to emotion.”
“And the el-cheapo, ad-hominem pot-shot,” I added. “Just like Rush Limbaugh. It’s called ‘scoring points.’” (“Gotcha!”)
The other day I happened to be trying to find photo-storage for this here blog, and a previous coworker suggested Kodak EasyShare.
“FREE, with minimal annual purchase,” it said.
“WHAT?” I cried. “Find the logic in that!” I shouted.
Is this the future? ....What things are coming to?
How about “after minimal annual purchase.”
What they meant, I’m sure; but they ain’t hornswoggling this kid with logic like that.
So much for EasyShare — I looked elsewhere.
I suppose that makes me a jerk.

• “Goosesteeping Annie” is of course Ann Coulter.

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Tuesday, September 22, 2009

GP30 #2223

Pennsylvania Railroad GP30 #2233, the real thing, not 2223 (a model). (Photo by the so-called “old guy” with the Pentax Spotmatic camera.) —I saw a picture of this unit before repaint into Conrail colors, and it looked rather bedraggled and badly in need of cosmetic restoration (rusting to pieces). I can’t find it.

Pennsylvania Railroad GP30 #2223 still exists, assuming ya accept that it’s only a G-scale model in the Canandaigua Weggers.
Just about every Wegmans I’ve been to, at least in the Rochester area, has a G-scale model-railroad suspended from the ceiling.
Usually it’s over the bulk-food department, although in Canandaigua it’s over a cheese display.
A locomotive, sometimes lettered “Wegmans,” continuously pulls a model train around a loop, of freightcars lettered “Reese’s Peanut-Butter cups,” “Three Musketeers,” and “Hershey’s Kisses.”
G-scale is pretty large, 45 mm (almost 1.75 inches) between the rails. #2223 is about a foot long, and the freightcars are pretty large too.
The layout at the Pittsford Plaza Wegmans, the so-called “Jewel-In-The-Crown,” is quite large too.
The Pittsford Plaza Wegmans is HUGE — so big ya need a powered cart. It even has valet service in its vast parking-lot.
The Pittsford Plaza Wegmans had steam-locomotive models at first.
They probably wore ‘em out, so now they have EMD F-unit diesels; two units pulling about 10 cars.
Trouble is, they still have the “choo-choo” sound emitting from the diesels.
A railfan would have a fit!
A diesel-locomotive doesn’t “choo.”
Obviously their layout wasn’t assembled by a railfan.
“Oh look, Johnny. It’s even ‘chooing.’”
Thankfully, GP30 #2223 isn’t chooing. What it does is blow its horn and ring its bell.
It’s only one unit pulling maybe eight cars, including a caboose.
The GP30 is one of a series of “road-switchers” marketed by General Motors’ ElectroMotive Division (“EMD”).
Road-switchers were a concept pioneered by American Locomotive Company (Alco) in 1941, and railroads loved ‘em because they increased visibility for operating crew.
Most early diesels were “cab-units” with bodies the same width as the locomotive cab — integral with it.
A cab-unit really only worked well in one direction. Bidirectional operation was difficult, because visibility in the opposite direction was hampered.
Switchers didn’t have that problem. The engine-hood was narrow, so the crew in the cab could see along it.
But a switcher had its cab at one end, exposed cab-ahead to accidents in road operation.
The solution was to put a small hood in front of the cab, to reduce accident exposure.
So a road-switcher has three segments atop its frame: -1) A long hood over the engine; narrow; -2) a full-width operating cab; and finally -3) a short hood of engine-hood width at the opposite end.
So that the engine-crew always had a hood between them and accidents; although some railroads, e.g. Norfolk & Western and Southern Railway, operated long hood first.
Road switchers also used over-the-road trucks; the same as on cab-units — making them appropriate for road operation.
Alco pioneered the concept with its RS1, but EMD soon followed with its “GP” (General-Purpose) series — first the GP7, and then the GP9.
An option was to cut the height of the short hood in half, so that a window could be installed in the locomotive cab above the short hood to increase forward vision.
Many railroads did this, and it became a factory option on later GP models; e.g. the GP18 and GP20.
The GP18 replaced the GP9; and the GP20 was the first EMD locomotive with turbocharging.
Horsepowers were GP7 = 1,500 horsepower; GP9 = 1,750 horsepower; GP18 = 1,800 horsepower; and GP20 = 2,000 horsepower.
All used the 567 engine; that’s 567 cubic-inches of displacement per cylinder; times 16 cylinders is 9,072 cubic inches displacement.
Car displacement runs around 300-350 cubic inches.
EMD also fielded a six-axle variation; their “SD” (Super-Duty) series; same engine and horsepower on a six-axle chassis.
The GP30 was a response to the new General Electric U25B series.
The U (“U-boat”) series was especially attractive to railroads because it used a central filtered air-supply with a sealed hood.
It also generated 2,500 horsepower; the GP20 only 2,000.
Plus ease-of-maintenance was designed in.
So EMD set about upgrading its GP20; at first it was supposed to be called the GP22.
The rear hood had to be raised to allow a centralized air-supply; and this made the cab they were using on the earlier GP units unusable.
It was a last use of the 567 (the later GP35 also used the 567), but they managed to crank 2,250 horsepower out of the GP30 — not a match for GE’s 2,500, but they were hoping to get by with the railroads’ experience with EMD units.
The GP30 was the first EMD road switcher with the cut-down short hood no longer an option. It came that way.
The GP35 got 2,500 horsepower, and the later GP40 got 3,000 horsepower, but the GP40 used a newer engine with 645 cubic inches of displacement per cylinder — the 645.
The locomotive cab on the GP30 had to be redesigned to agree with the raised hood height; and at this point the guys at GM auto styling were dragged in to gussy up the cab design.
Which is why the GP30 is now so collectible. It’s one-of-a-kind; an attempt to make the GP road-switchers look great.
The cab-roofs were rounded at the corners, and the hood blister extended over the cab.
A unique and recognizable appearance — you can’t misidentify a GP30.
And the 30 series was only available as four-axle GP; a six-axle SD30 was unavailable.
Later GP units had the so-called “Spartan” cab; 45 degree chamfered at the cab-corners. It raised the center cab height to agree with the hood height.
The “Spartan” cab was also used on SD units.
I don’t know as the GP30 was that successful — although many were sold; 948.
But the U25B sold well too — 478.
Alco had a competitor in its RS27 (2,400 horsepower), but eventually Alco tanked.
So 2223 circles the track above the Weggers cheese-display, blowing its horn and ringing its bell — both are audio-files.
I doubt the horn-sound is the actual horn-sound of 2223, but it may be. It doesn’t sound like the standard locomotive horn from back then, but the horns on diesel-locomotives tended to degrade after sucking birds.
Two longs, a short, and then a long — the signal for a road-crossing; although there is no road-crossing near the Weggers ceiling.
My first thought was that 2223 was the GP30 retained by an excursion shortline north of Harrisburg along the west bank of the Susquehanna river.
That’s actually 2233, a photo of which is above — from long ago when it was on that shortline.
2233 is now at Railroad Museum of Pennsylvania adjacent to Strasburg Rail Road.
It’s been repainted into Conrail colors, and is inside.
Conrail GP30 #2233, inside, at the Railroad Museum of Pennsylvania.

And General Electric has since surpassed General Motors’ EMD.
And four-axle locomotives are no longer available from GE and EMD.
EMD no longer exists; it was sold when GM went bankrupt.

• The Pennsylvania Railroad no longer exists. It merged with New York Central Railroad in 1968 as Penn-Central, and that tanked in about eight years — followed by Conrail. “Pennsy” was once the largest railroad in the world.
• RE: “‘Old guy’ with the SpotMatic.......” —My macho, blowhard brother-from-Boston, who is 13 years younger than me, calls me “the old guy” as a put-down (I also am the oldest). The “SpotMatic” is my old Pentax SpotMatic single-lens-reflex 35mm film camera I used about 40 years, since replaced by a Nikon D100 digital camera.
• “Weggers” is Wegmans, a large supermarket-chain based in Rochester we often buy groceries at. They have a store in Canandaigua. (“Canandaigua” [“cannon-DAY-gwuh”] is a small city nearby where we live in Western NY. The city is also within a rural town called “Canandaigua.” The name is Indian, and means “Chosen Spot.” —It’s about 15 miles away.)
• “Pittsford” is an old suburb of Rochester to the southeast, “Pittsford Plaza” a large shopping plaza west of Pittsford.
• I’ve been a railfan all my life.
• “EMD” is ElectroMotive Division of General Motors, GM’s manufacturer of diesel railroad-locomotives. Most railroads used EMD when they dieselized; although many now use General-Electric diesel railroad-locomotives.
• “Alco” is American Locomotive Company of Schenectady, NY. For years, American Locomotive Company was a primary manufacturer of railroad steam locomotives. (It was originally a merger of many steam locomotive manufacturers.) —With the changeover by railroads to diesel-locomotives, American Locomotive Company brought out a line of diesel-electric railroad locomotives much like the railroads were switching to, and changed its name to “Alco.” Alco tanked a while ago; they never competed as well as EMD.
• “F-units” are the early diesel locomotives marketed by EMD for freight-service. They looked like passenger units, but had only one engine, a 45-degree V16. The passenger units (“E-units”) had two V12 engines of 1,000 horsepower each — total unit rating was 2,000 horsepower. The F-unit had a car-body integral with the cab; full width. —Alco also produced a cab freight unit; the FA, but the EMD units were preferred because they were more reliable.
• “Turbocharging” is to supercharge the engine intake-air input with a supercharger driven by exhaust gases. Prior to “turbocharging” the engine intake-air input was “supercharged” with mechanically driven superchargers. (A supercharger forces more intake-air into an engine by compressing it.) —Diesel-engines are always unthrottled. The amount of intake-air forced into the cylinders is always as much as possible. The power output is a function of the amount of fuel burned.
• “Conrail” is a government amalgamation of east-coast railroads that went bankrupt pretty much at the same time as Penn-Central. Conrail included other bankrupt east-coast railroads, like Erie-Lackawanna and Lehigh Valley; but eventually went private as it became more successful. Conrail has since been broken up, sold to CSX Transportation Industries (railroad) and Norfolk Southern railroad. CSX got mainly the old New York Central routes, and NS got the old PRR routes, although NS also has the old Erie Railroad route across southern NY.

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Sunday, September 20, 2009

No more “Legendary Sports Cars” calendar

Oxman Publishing has apparently given up on their “Legendary Sports Cars” calendar.
It’s one of the seven calendars I got every year. —Essentially as wall-art.
Thankfully, they still have their hot-rod calendar (see link), so I ordered one the other day.
It always looks great. About 11 x 17, color, and excellent printing.
I got a “Classic Cars” calendar from Hemmings once, and sent it back.
It looked awful. The dot-screen was wide open — so bad it distracted.
The “Legendary Sports Cars” calendar looked great too, but I suppose I was one of its few buyers.
The other Oxman calendars are -1) sprint-car racing, -2) world auto racing, and -3) classic Harley-Davidson motorcycles.
Sprint-car racing I have no interest in, I’m not into the macho Harley schtick, and I got the world auto racing calendar once, but it was too much like an ad circular.
My other 2010 calendars are —1) the Audio-Visual Designs black-and-white All-Pennsy Calendar, —2) an all-Pennsy color calendar, —3) my O. Winston Link “Steam & Steel” calendar, —4) a muscle-cars calendar, —5) my Norfolk Southern Employees Contest calendar, and —6) my Ghosts WWII warbirds calendar.
My Audio-Visual Designs black-and-white All-Pennsy Calendar I’ve got since 1968. I usually get two — snail-mail, and they sell out almost immediately.
The second is a Christmas present for my railfan nephew in northern Delaware, a Pennsy lover like me.
For a long time that was my only calendar. Then I started getting the Oxman calendars.
The All-Pennsy color calendar is hard to get — not many produced. Too late last year, but I managed to snag one this year from Amazon®.
It was originally produced by a company that went bankrupt. When it did, I got my 2008 All-Pennsy Color Calendar from eBay for peanuts — about four bucks instead of $12.95.
My O. Winston Link calendar is a replacement for a Three Stooges calendar, which I thought was a waste. Single frames from movies. Worst was the frame with Curly gaping over the edge of a tall building, probably at the studio floor three feet below. The Stooges’ shadows were on the set painting of a city skyline.
I think last year was the first time the Link Museum in Roanoke produced the “Steam & Steel” calendar.
I wasn’t sure there’d be one this year, but there is.
Hard to find
at their web-site, but found it.
Ordered it the other day (Saturday, September 19, 2009).
I got the 2009 Link calendar to replace the 2009 All-Pennsy Color calendar I couldn’t get.
It’s a great calendar, prints of O. Winston Link’s depiction of the end of steam locomotive operation on the Norfolk & Western Railroad in the middle ‘50s.
My muscle-cars calendar was a replacement for railfan calendars I’ve purchased in the past; paintings by Ted Rose and Howard Fogg.
Rose was dramatic, but with Ted Rose ya got 12 different railroads, and I’m partial to Pennsy.
Fogg was even worse. Very dramatic, but at least three or four watercolors of Colorado narrow-gauge.
Narrow-gauge is okay, but I prefer Pennsy (standard-gauge).
I almost dumped the muscle-car calendar, but can’t. Nothing better or comparable. What about Can-Am or Trans-Am racing about 1970?
I got the Norfolk Southern Employees Contest calendar a few years ago the replace -A) a Ducati (“dew-KAH-dee”) motorcycles calendar, which was printed poorly, and -B) John Deere farm-equipment calendars, which looked great, but depicted farm impliments.
I’d been hoping for Johnny Poppers; the fabulous two-cylinder farm-tractors John Deere produced in the late ‘40s and throughout the ‘50s.
Once-in-a-while they’d depict one in the calendar, amidst a surfeit of threshing machines.
The Norfolk Southern Employees Contest calendar is well-produced and attractive, but can be rather moribund. There’s apparently only so much ya can do with train-photography, and it shows in the Norfolk Southern Employees Contest calendar.
I was gonna dump it, but no more “Legendary Sports Cars” calendar.
My WWII warbirds calendar I’ve gotten for years. It’s my best one. HUGE, dramatic, and extremely well produced.

Two footnotes:
• “Pennsy” is the Pennsylvania Railroad, no longer in existence. It merged with New York Central Railroad in 1968 as Penn-Central, and that tanked in about eight years. “Pennsy” was once the largest railroad in the world. —My railfaning began on “Pennsy.” (I’ve been a railfan all my live.)
• “Narrow-gauge” is three feet between the rails —Standard-gauge, what ya see nowadays, is 4 feet 8&1/2 inches. Narrow-gauge could have tighter curvature — less grading. (As such it was mainly used in the Colorado mountains.)

Thursday, September 17, 2009

Best job I ever had!

Class!
On October 26, 1993 I had a stroke.
It suddenly ended my 16&1/2 year career of driving transit bus for Regional Transit Service in Rochester.
During my final year I happened to start a voluntary newsletter for my bus-union.
I was Editor and Publisher, and did a vast quantity of writing for it.
I did it in Microsoft Word® on our first computer, a PC (Windows 3.1).
It was a HUGE amount of work, but great fun.
We had Transit management running ragged.
A friend of mine was circulating that newsletter among local politicians.
For once the local politicos were getting other than the Transit line.
After about a year-and-a-half of post-stroke rehabilitation and recovery, a counselor at Rochester Rehabilitation wondered what I should do for a job.
“Something similar to my newsletter,” I suggested.
So we interviewed at the Daily Messenger newspaper in Canandaigua, where I was taken on as an unpaid intern.
That internship lasted a while, and then an opening occurred in the newspaper’s paste-up department. —The newspaper was still pasted up, not computerized. That’s pasting copy galleys to full-size cardboard page-dummies, and then photographing the whole completed shebang to make a printing plate.
(Later, computerization took out that step, and “paste-up” was disbanded.)
I suggested I could probably do the paste-up job, and they hired me.
George Ewing (“YOU-ing”) Sr. was the head-honcho at that time, and I’m sure my hiring had to pass him.
He hired a stroke-survivor who was severely messed up at first.
But I kept at it almost 10 years, And they kept me.
Best job I ever had!
And now my friend Kathie Meredith says he’s gone.
Meredith retired from the Messenger, where she had been editor of their “Steppin Out” tabloid.
“He was one of the good guys,” she said.
“Yeah,” I thought; “he hired a stroke-survivor.”

• A “PC” is a personal-computer — usually on the Microsoft Windows® operating-system. (But it can use other operating-systems, just not Apple Computers.)

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

“Helloooo; knock-knock......”

I’ve patronized the Honeoye Falls MarketPlace.
I’ve exited the store, and am calmly walking across the parking-lot toward my car.
A tattered black Ford Explorer fires up to my right; it’s backup lights come on.
I’m almost to it, so I start to walk by.
WOOPS! She’s coming right at me.
“Woe-woe-woe,” a pedestrian cries.
I jump quickly to my left, still spry enough I guess, out of the way of the backing Explorer.
I say “Hi” to its driver, who has kept right on backing into the exit-lane; she woulda run over me if I hadn’t jumped.
Cellphone people; she’s yammering on her cellphone. She has it clamped to her ear.
Well, HEX-KYOOZE me, but I thought cellphone use while driving was illegal in this here state.
Beyond that, does cellphone use absolve one of looking before they back up?
Hell-oooo; knock-knock. Anybody home?

• “Honeoye (‘HONE-eee-oy’) Falls” is the nearest town to where we live in western New York, a rural town about five miles away.
• “MarketPlace” is a large independent supermarket in nearby Honeoye Falls we often buy groceries at.
• RE: “Still spry enough I guess.....” —65 years old.
• “Cellphone use while driving” is illegal in NY state.

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Tuesday, September 15, 2009

Thank ya, Gates!

“Your assignment is.......”
Print off three professional-looking envelopes.
Nothing to it — I’ve done it before.
Engage wondrous technology.
Fire up AppleWorks® word-processor on computer; that will flag spelling errors due to mistypes.
Fire up Microsoft Word®; fire up Word envelope function.
Copy/paste AppleWorks address into Word envelope window.
Select #10 envelopes (one was a #6), select “charcoal” font, select bold, increase font-size to 14 points; print.
HOLD IT, Bubba!

This is the new century, where everything takes 10 times as long as the previous century.
And that is called progress — the siren-song of wondrous technology.
And don’t kill that AppleWorks document. Ya might need it.
Okay, print envelopes.
Envelopes have to be inserted just so; otherwise they print upside-down.
Usually I get this right; but not this time. #6 is correct, but both #10s are upside-down.
A distraction was at play. Both #10s were warped at one end due to being bent by a rubber-band. My printer won’t feed a warped envelope.
Upside-down was feeding the unwarped end.
Take out two more blank #10 envelopes, both also warped at the end that feeds.
Copy/paste an address again into the Word envelope address window — I knew I’d need it.
Set up all again and print.
Woops! Envelope won’t feed — red light blinks on printer.
Command-O; view printing jobs.
I know from experience if a job didn’t print, it remains in the printer-queue, and prints first although that may not be what ya intended.
“Delete” or “stop” or “restart?” —“Delete job.”
Set up all again; print.
Zoop; envelope spits out and nothing prints.
Command-O; nothing in queue.
Set up all again. Straighten envelope so it will feed.
Got it this time. —Four tries; about 45 minutes.
If I’d hand-lettered ‘em, it mighta consumed 45 seconds.
Progress.
Thank ya, Gates.

• “Gates” is Bill Gates, head-honcho of Microsoft.
• “AppleWorks®” is Apple Computer’s word-processing, spreadsheet, and paint software. Not as glitzy as Word and Excel, but not as punishing to a stroke-survivor. (I had a stroke in October of 1993.) Word has magic-key functions, which trip you onto the ozone, if ya hit ‘em by mistake. AppleWorks doesn’t. (I use an Apple Macintosh.)

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Monday, September 14, 2009

Clean Your Plate!

The other day (Friday, September 11, 2009), we were returning from Altoona, PA; and we stopped at the mighty Williamsport Weggers (Wegmans).
It’s our first contact with quote-unquote “home.”
The Williamsport Wegmans is much like other Wegmans, laid out pretty much the same, so it’s easy to find stuff.
Head to the right for produce. Take four local Pennsylvania peaches, then head for bananas.
I let our fruit run out before going anywhere, so it doesn’t spoil while we’re away.
Then back to the milk refrigerators.
The Williamsport Wegmans hasn’t yet seen fit to put milk up front like the Rochester Wegmans, but we’ve been there enough to know that.
The Rochester Wegmans, and other local supermarkets, put their skim under light blue caps, but apparently not the Williamsport Wegmans.
Grab a gallon jug of light blue capped milk, but it’s not skim.
I didn’t discover this until I got home.
It’s “Schneider Valley Farms” 2%; apparently a local supplier.
UGH!
We have been drinking skim for years.
After that, anything else is too creamy.
But we can’t throw it out.
My parents survived the Dee-preshin.
“And don’t you ever forget it.
Little children are starving in China.
Clean your plate!”

• “Altoona, PA is the location of Horseshoe Curve (the “mighty Curve”), by far the BEST railfan spot I have ever been to. Horseshoe Curve is a national historic site. It was a trick used by the Pennsylvania Railroad to get over the Allegheny mountains without steep grades. Horseshoe Curve was opened in 1854, and is still in use. (I am a railfan, and have been since I was a child.)
• “Wegmans” is a large supermarket-chain based in Rochester we often buy groceries at. Wegmans first dominated the Rochester grocery market, but has since branched south; e.g. Williamsport, PA.

Sunday, September 13, 2009

Another Faudi gig


I don’t know where this is, but it’s the six-target signal bridge.

The question, of course, is how long I can do this?
My balance is sloppy, but I marched right up the Curve steps like I always do — 194.
Of course, I do work out at the Canandaigua YMCA, plus I can still run (though 65).
Plus I can still walk my dog. (Hang on for dear life!)
But I keep getting older.
A guy in his 80s works out at the YMCA. —Keeps chuggin’ along.
Another guy in his 70s blasts the treadmill — uphill too.
Sometimes I think I’m making a mountain out of a molehill.
I keep waking up every morning, and ain’t taking 89 bazilyun pills.
But I wonder at times......
Mowing lawn, big as it is, is no problem. I’m just sitting.
The lawnmower is doing all the work.
Another winter of fighting snow is fast approaching.
But another internal-combustion engine does all the work: my snowblower.
Both our cars are All-Wheel-Drive — maybe two or three driveway blowouts per winter.
But it’s a walk-behind; and I could probably shovel if I had to — I have.
The way I feel, both Tehachapi (“tuh-HATCH-uh-pee”) and Cajon (“kah-HONE”) in Californy are probably done. Maybe Cass (“Kass”) too — that’s almost eight hours away, although I could probably still do it.
Horseshoe Curve (the “mighty Curve”) is almost five hours, and easy driving too. We set out after 10 a.m., and arrived at Tunnel Inn in Gallitzin (“guh-LIT-zin”) PA just before 3 p.m.
But it’s becoming a drag. What we need is Scotty.
“Beam us to the mighty Curve, Scotty!”
I should mention one thing for faire Marcy (Marge).
We’re calmly bopping down a rural two-lane in Western NY, and I notice a sign for free-range eggs.
“I wonder what free-range eggs are?” I ask. —Marcy, it’s everywhere!


Rose.

Last visit, about five or six weeks ago, I wrote up our visit to the infamous spaghetti-joint: Lena’s café in Altoony.
I Googled Lena’s to see if they had a web-site, but apparently they don’t.
But I did run across reviews for Lena’s, and they all suggested getting the homemade noodles.
Lena’s can make its own pasta, but ya only get it if ya ask.
We never have, but have been tempted.
This time we did.
Ho-hum! Not discriminating palettes.
Homemade noodles cost extra. Back to store-bought noodles.

DAY TWO:


“Double” (two trains) at Brickyard Crossing.

The whole point of this trip is the Faudi (“FAW-dee”) railfan tour — a day-long train-chase with Phil Faudi, a local railfan extraordinaire.
I did it last year, alone, and it blew my mind.
Railfan overload.
I did it on a Monday, usually the worst day.
20 trains over nine hours!
Back-and-forth we zig-zagged all over.
Faudi has his rail-scanner along, tuned to 160.8, the Norfolk Southern operating channel, and knows the whereabouts of every train, as the engineers call out the signals, and various defect-detectors fire off.
He also knows all the back-roads, and how long it takes to get to various photo locations — and also what makes a successful photo — lighting, drama, etc.
“I think we can beat 20G to such-and-such, if we hoof it.”
Sudden U-turns in the middle of busy streets.
A bit hectic and nerve-racking, but safe.
I’m probably not as assertive behind the wheel myself, but I’ve been with worse.


Amtrak eastbound.

My blowhard, macho brother-from-Boston, who noisily badmouths everything I do or say, ran a stop-sign in front of a state trooper once. We were chasing restored Nickel Plate steam-locomotive #765 in WV.
“Legal,” he bellowed. “We’re railfans!”
Later we were charging down a curvy paved byway little more than a lane wide deep into New River Gorge.
He almost slid head on into a roadside embankment — and then we waited well over an hour trackside for the train.
100 mph, flat out down a grade on Interstate-64, the fastest his company Lumina would go.
Faudi doesn’t drive like that.
A pace I couldn’t keep, but I wasn’t climbing under the dashboard.
Hectic, but not terrifying.


GP38s on a local. Chuffa-chuffa-chuffa-chuffa.

Our tour started at Cassandra Railfan Overlook; and immediately my camera threw a mysterious hairball — no auto-focus and no shoot.
I had just formatted a memory-card, but hadn’t tried it afterward.
I poked around and eyed it worriedly.
All-of-a-sudden, it started shooting and auto-focus.
“Don’t ask me why,” I said.
Off we zoomed to the next spots, mainly north of Altoona.
For the first time I saw “Rose” in Juniata (“june-ee-AT-uh”), the place where the railroad changes crews.
It was my second photograph of a train I photographed many times, perhaps 14G.
It had stopped at Rose to change crews.
To my mind the locations north of Altoona aren’t as photogenic as those I saw last year, but that may just be reaction to my having done it last year, so this year was old news.
Many of the views are tangent track with no curvature.
And the old Pennsy signal-towers front lineside foliage, instead of silhouetting against the sky.
The signal-tower at Summerhill silhouettes the sky, but a nearby highway overpass distracts.
The best locations are South Fork and Lilly, both looking west.
South Fork is a long open curve with great lighting; Lilly is similar from a highway overpass.


View from a highway overpass at Slope, west of Altoona. A work-crew is occupying Track Two.

The only location with a long curve, that I remember, is faraway Tyrone, where the railroad turns east into the Juniata river-valley.
There may have been others; I forget. None stood out enough to revisit, except Rose, and perhaps another highway overpass almost to Tipton, Pinecroft.
North of Altoona, the railroad is pretty flat and straight.
Everything was going wrong; a railroader’s nightmare.
Trains went into emergency, and one got blown in by a passing train for leaking antifreeze, and blowing it all over the engine.
The unit was isolated (idled), but not fixed.
As they used to say at the bus-company: “Take it through; see whatcha can do.......”
A train pulled in for a crew-change, but had to be tied down — no replacement crew was available.
Part of Track Two was out-of-service with a work-crew occupying it (see picture).
Orders were being issued to close track segments so maintainers could work.
All this despite a blizzard of trains.
We were jumping all over all day.
“Woops! 21N. Off we go!” and
“That UPS train is gonna hafta follow the slowpokes up The Hill. And that UPS train is the hottest train on the railroad; 79 hours coast-to-coast.”
I think we only missed three trains; and two of those by intent, one being the westbound Amtrak.
The other was the “trash-train,” a train of containers for carrying trash.
I’ve seen it on the Curve web-cam often; it’s probably the most identifiable — all beat-up looking purple-gray containers; four to a trailer-flat.


Four SD70-MACs lead a long train of coal empties.

The night previous to our chase, I mentioned to a Tunnel Inn patron to do the Faudi gig.
“Did it last year on a Monday, supposedly the worst day to chase trains. 20 trains over nine hours. Railfan overload! So tomorrow (Thursday), my next Faudi gig, I wouldn’t be surprised if I see 30.” (Thursday is supposedly the best day; and it was Wednesday night.)
I think Faudi had that number 30 in mind — a record, more-or-less.
At around 5 p.m. we watched a long train of empty hoppers back off the main toward a coal tipple.
That was train #27.
The Amtrak train and the other we intentionally missed would have been #28 and #29.
But by then us old folks were a bit bushed by all the ramming around.
So I suggested we watch the coal-train set up at the tipple for loading — we had gone to the tipple.


The empty hoppers back toward the tipple.

We hung around, and the coal-train finally cleared a road crossing it had blocked for a long time.
The engines, four AC SD70-MACs, disappeared into the woods, so we headed back toward Tunnel Inn.
But Faudi heard one, so we stopped at Lilly on the overpass, to me the most photogenic spot.
Saw two, #s 28 and 29. Got both. #29 is the last picture.
Back toward Tunnel Inn, but on a route parallel to the Main, because Faudi heard one climbing The Hill.
Swung around a curve, and there it is.
#30 in the tunnel; comin’ at us!
#s 31 through 33 passed after Faudi left us off.
Back to Cresson Springs Family Restaurant in nearby Cresson; #s 34 through 36 passed.
Darkness fell; #s 37 through 39.
And on into the night they went.
Every 10 minutes or so, a train; including eastbounds stopped nearby
before the tunnel for a brake-test. (Before descending The Hill.)

DAY THREE: RETURN HOME


Eastbound at Gray interlocking near Tyrone.

Back to reality,
the reality of wondering if I can still do this.
I probably can.
I hope to reserve an October Fall Foliage date, and probably another Faudi gig next year.
But that may be the last.
Faudi is still pretty agile, despite being slightly older than me.
I just look like I’m puked out, and am to some degree.
But I have to move slower to avoid falling.
“Up for a short hike?” Faudi asked.
Off we went up a treacherous jeep-trail, Faudi far ahead, and me the caboose.
I have to plan every footfall.
We were near The Ledges, a photo-spot.
“Something’s coming down,” he said. “We have to move fast up to The Ledges to beat it.”
We passed. The train would have beat us.
It would have taken me three times as long as Faudi to navigate that treacherous uphill four-wheeler trail to The Ledges.
It takes me a long time just to get out of a car; probably three times the average person.
I have to turn and get both feet firmly on the ground before attempting to stand.
And standing is arm-assisted.
I feel like I’m reprising Aunt Ginny, although she weighed almost 350 pounds — I weigh 190.
Aunt Ginny would grab both the windshield and door posts to hoist herself out of a car.
After she did, the car rose about three inches on its shocks. The car always tilted down toward Aunt Ginny.
I suppose Faudi has shepherded complete cripples.
I get around fairly well; it’s partly bullheadedness.
My younger brother-in-Boston is in much worse shape, but could probably equal me. —He’s bull-headed.
I managed to do the Brickyard Crossing without falling.
Westbound is a short uphill hike on a semi-treacherous path atop an embankment.
Eastbound is back down to trackside.
Two “doubles” at Brickyard, both with westbounds.
Up the hill to get the westbound, and then quickly back down because Faudi heard one coming down.
Then quickly back up to get another westbound in a double (picture #3), then back down to grab another eastbound.
A few years ago I fell hard on this path, and ripped my pants. Also drew blood outta my knee.
Managed to do the path twice without falling, and quickly too. All it takes is concentration. I can’t do it automatically.


Eastbound at Lilly; train #29.

If anything was learned during this foray, it’s how inflexible railroading is.
Driving bus I could usually find a way around impediments, but trains use the same track.
If one track is blocked by trackwork (picture #5), the UPS train follows the slowpokes.

• All photos by the so-called “old guy” with the dreaded and utterly reprehensible Nikon D100 camera.

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Saturday, September 12, 2009

DVDs

The other day (last Tuesday, September 8, 2009) I happened to be watching a cab-ride train video on our DVD player.
In other words, the video was a DVD.
All of a sudden, it stopped, but at the beginning of a “chapter” segment.
It also went darkish.
Now what?
This never happened with my VHS tapes!
Eject disc.
Start over.
Select chapter.
Nothing!
Nothing but a red “will not compute” icon. (Not to mention my player often spits out the disc as “disc error.”)
Okay; try again.
Eject disc.
Start over.
Select chapter.
Played this time!
Um, this is progress?
As I understand it, all the digital information on a DVD is read into a small computer in your player, and that plays it back.
A pain.
A VHS tape didn’t do that.
Stop a VHS tape while playing, extract for later, then reinsert and restart where ya left off.
Not with a DVD, or usually not.
Extract and restart and it starts over, making you view footage ya already viewed.
Okay; don’t extract the DVD, which means I can’t insert a blank DVD to record on.
Plus, its starting where it left off is intermittent.
Often it just starts over.
Of course, a VHS tape ain’t digital, although I’ve yet to feel any observable difference was worth the so-called “progress.”
My DVD player is actually a combination DVR/VCR.
It can play both DVDs and tapes.
The intent was to dub a VHS tape onto a DVD.
I haven’t yet. Not worth it, although I probably will for when I can no longer get a VHS player.
Another advantage is that stored DVDs take up way less space than stored tapes.
Ho-hum; still not worth it compared to all the acrimony.
So I suppose my badmouthing DVDs makes me an old fart.

• I’ve been a railfan all my life. A “cab-ride train video” is one where the recording video-camera was placed in the locomotive cab, or the front of the locomotive. All you see is approaching track, and the surrounding scenery — what the train-engineer sees.

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Tuesday, September 08, 2009

Crotchrocket Extravaganza


(Screenshot of Google satellite image.)

The other afternoon (Sunday, September 6, 2009), about 6:30 p.m., I set out to walk the dog.
The sun hadn’t set yet, but was going down.
Every afternoon I try to walk my dog around suppertime.
The sun has been setting earlier each day, so it’s a race to get the dog walked before dark, sometimes after supper, occasionally before, and often during.
What I do is walk the dog up (south) State Route 65, which we live on in West Bloomfield, to Michael Prouty Park, a small town park near Routes 5&20.
I then walk around the park, and then back to our house on 65. (See picture.)
The dog loves it.
We often see critters of every stripe: squirrels, and kitty-cats, and rabbits.
My dog is a hunter, but I keep her leashed so she doesn’t get hit by a car.
Heading toward 65, a gigantic climbing ripping sound washed over me, and echoed widely throughout the area.
Four-or-five crotchrockets were passing four-or-five four-wheelers.
About 500 yards are between 5&20 and our house.
About 200 are marked as passing, so the crotchrockets didn’t have much space to pass.
Loudest was the last crotchrocket, and it started to pass almost a 100 yards into the passing zone.
The passing zone ends about 100 yards before our house, but that last crotchrocket paid no attention to that, and completed his pass in front of our house.
He also was wide open, pushing 14,000 rpm. His motorcycle had little muffling, if any.
The cowering car drivers were juking along at maybe 35-40 mph, obviously terrified by what was happening to their left.
Namely, they were being royally skonked by macho-men.
I have a crotchrocket myself, although it’s only a Honda CBR-600-double R, not a liter-bike.
And it’s 2003; somewhat dated.
I’ve felt the wrath of the straights myself. Once I was told by a security-guard to park elsewhere. Apparently I was perceived as a threat to social order (gasp).
Yet is it any wonder the straights are angry?
Years ago I was skonked on my Ducati (“dew-KAH-dee”) by a Suzy-Q ridden by a maniac.
He had it screwed to the wall — climbing towards 14,000 rpm — and merged into expressway traffic without looking.
I couldn’t do it. I have to look.
To me his blast was just making a statement. Instead of “Rage Against the Machine,” it was rage via machine.
Thankfully, no one was coming when the crotchrockets made their move.
The speed-limit on front of our house is 40 mph. That last crotchrocket was doing at least 100!

• “5&20” is the main east-west road (a two-lane highway) through our area; State Route 5 and U.S. Route 20, both on the same road.
• We live in the small rural town of “West Bloomfield” in Western N.Y.
• A “crotchrocket” is the usual sport motorcycle available nowadays, made by Honda, Yamaha, Kawasaki and Suzuki (“Suzy-Q”). They are incredibly fast, and can be ridden hard; usually powerful enough to wheelstand in every gear. Another is Ducati, although that is made in Italy, and has been a sportbike for about 40 years. (The Honda, Yamaha, Kawasaki and Suzuki [all Japanese] are fairly recent.)
• A “four-wheeler” is motorcycle parlance for a car.
• A “liter-bike” is 1,000 cubic centimeters engine displacement; usually 150 horsepower or more — maybe 170-180 mph. A “CBR-600-double R” (CBR600-RR) is only 600 cubic centimeters engine displacement; maybe 100 horsepower and 140-150 mph. (I’ve never done that.)

Monday, September 07, 2009

Boughton Park


West Pond from pavilion point. (Photo by the so-called “old guy” with the dreaded and utterly reprehensible Nikon D100 camera.)

My dog loves Boughton Park (“BOW-tin;” as in “wow”).
Boughton Park is special.
Not just anyone can use it.
You have to be a resident and/or taxpayer of the three rural Ontario County towns that own it: Victor, and East and West Bloomfield.
On top of that, you have to have a permit, signified by the parking-sticker on your car.
These are available free from the three town clerks.
Eons ago the area was just two deep creek defiles northwest of Bloomfield village.
The Monroe County town of Fairport decided to buy the area and dam both creek defiles for a water supply.
Large earthen dams were built, with concrete overflow spillways at one end of each.
Two ponds were formed, and concrete valve-boxes installed, to tap pond water into supply piping for Fairport.
The area remained that for a long time.
I remember riding bicycle on Stirnee (“Ster-nee”) Road, past the “Fairport Water Supply” — no trespassing.
Eventually, demand for water in Fairport outstripped the Fairport Water Supply, so Fairport switched to Monroe County Water Authority.
The water-supply was put up for sale.
It’s a beautiful area, and private developers were hot to snap it up.
But the three towns interceded, wanting to make the area a town park.
Their desire was to keep it what it is: beautiful.
The State of New York weighed in with grandiose plans to open swimming, and make it a public park.
But thankfully the three towns walked away, thereby refusing a large sum of money.
They wanted to keep it what it was: rustic and beautiful.
So swimming is not allowed.
About all you can do with the ponds is paddle your canoe or rowboat or kayak.
Powerboats are forbidden. The ponds are too small to stretch out a motorboat.
And there is outside storage in the park for your watercraft — although you have to register.
And you can fish. The ponds have been stocked.
What I do is walk my dog on the hiking trails.
The long trail circumnavigating the two ponds has bridges over wet spots, but most of the footing is difficult — all roots.
The road in is great, as is the trail north and northwest of the West Pond — the routes I run.
An inside trail is more rustic; no bridges over wet spots.
To my dog, this is hunting.
I keep her leashed because I have to. Without it she’d run away.
Squirrels and chipmunks abound, as do deer.
During deer-season, the deer hang out in the park.
There’s no hunting, and a dog chasing deer is illegal.


The park is within the roads surrounded by the red lines, although the eastern border is a golf-course, and the northern border pasture. (Screenshot of Google satellite image.)

About 15 years ago I joined the Boughton Park Commission, a volunteer board that oversees the park.
Its membership has at least two West Bloomfield members, and the other two towns have three and four, I think.
The number of members reflected each town’s financial participation in purchasing and maintaining the park.
Largest was Victor.
At that time, one West Bloomfield member was resigning, and they were fishing for another.
I thought I’d try it to see if I could do it, having just had a stroke.
I was on that commission for years, although I never did much. The extent of my participation seemed limited by my condition. My speech-center was effected by my stroke, so I avoid talking.
I also avoided volunteering for anything — although I wasn’t the only one. I helped the commission president survey our tools. I was the only one who did.
The one with the most work was always the commission president. People would call and threaten to sue.
To have a large group at the park you had to have permission; the prez usually got roped into this.
It was always the old waazoo: trying to keep the park rustic and beautiful, and not trashed by its users.
The main thing I did on the commission was a brochure for the park. Since I worked at Messenger newspaper, they thought I was eminently qualified to oversee this.
They wanted to xerox a scribbled drawing as a map of the park.
I would have none of it. If I was doing that brochure, it was going to be a class act.
We weren’t in a position to hire a public-relations guru, so I set about designing that brochure myself.
We also couldn’t afford a glitzy color brochure on expensive paper, but I thought we could produce a one-color (black) brochure that was really classy.
And so was produced brochure #1, black ink on yellow paper, 8&1/2 by 11, folded into three.
The infamous Boughton Park hamberger sticker. (This one expired a while ago.)
The cover had a black & white scan of the famous Boughton Park hamburger-sign, and a photo of canoists a board-member supplied.
Inside was a map a friend and I did in the Freehand® computer software — it looked much more professional than a scribbled xerox.
The rear cover was a history of that park I had written for the brochure, which they continue to use.
The inside fold had the park regulations.
I resigned the commission a while ago, mainly because attending the board meetings was becoming impossible. They were on the same day I was producing much of the Messenger-Post web-site. I wouldn’t get done until after six, and the board-meetings were at 7:30 or so. Forget supper!
Plus I wasn’t doing much of anything anyway — about all I had was that first brochure.
Still, I use that park almost every day of the week. I run there, and walk my dog.
Almost every dog we’ve ever had has thoroughly enjoyed that park. One is buried there.
Our current dog hits that park most every day. Mention that park, and ya got a dog in your face.

• RE: “‘Old guy’ with the dreaded and utterly reprehensible Nikon D100.......” —My macho, blowhard brother-from-Boston, who is 13 years younger than me, calls me “the old guy” as a put-down (I also am the oldest). I also am loudly excoriated by all my siblings for preferring a professional camera (like the Nikon D100) instead of a point-and-shoot. This is because I long ago sold photos to nationally published magazines.
• We live in the small rural town of West Bloomfield in Western N.Y. in “Ontario County.” Adjacent is the rural town of East Bloomfield, and to the north is the larger town of Victor. Rochester is in “Monroe County,” farther north, and “Fairport” is a suburb adjacent to Rochester to the east, along the Erie Canal.
• Most water in Monroe County is supplied by the “Monroe County Water Authority.”
• I had a stroke October 26, 1993, and it slightly compromised my speech. (Difficulty putting words together.)
• The “Messenger” is the Canandaigua Daily-Messenger newspaper, from where I retired almost four years ago. Best job I ever had. —In the end I was doing their Internet web-site; although iteration #3. By now they are probably over iteration #6.
• “Messenger-Post” is essentially MPNmedia. The Messenger bought the nine Post weekly newspapers when their publisher retired, becoming Messenger-Post. At first I was doing Post content for their web-site, but eventually ended up doing the Messenger.

Sunday, September 06, 2009

Firestorm

Screenshot by the mighty MAC.
Dave Wheeler’s Facebook photo.
“...When and how we became such a polarized society that a sizable number of people plan to pull their kids out of school when the President of the United States addresses the nation’s schools.....”
That’s the exact words posted by my friend L. David Wheeler on his Facebook®, thus precipitating a firestorm.
Wheeler is an editor at the Daily Messenger newspaper in Canandaigua, from where I retired almost four years ago. —Best job I ever had.
Last I knew, Wheeler was doing the weekly Steppin’ Out tabloid.
Wheeler is a gentle soul, but apparently struck a nerve.
A record 29 responses — 31 if ya count mine.
I’ve never seen that many responses to a Facebook post. Usually it’s two or three; at most five or six.
And they all sounded like my family’s web-site, where all my siblings are tub-thumping born-again Christian zealots, and since I’m not, I’m of-the-Devil.
The torrent sounded like Rush Limbaugh in highest dudgeon railing against liberals.
Strident accusations of “indoctrination” into “Obamaganda;” and on the other side, suggestions of veiled racism.
And there was poor David trying to be diplomatic — the typical mistaken response of being reasonable.
There’s no being reasonable with these people. When they say something outrageous, ya just lob it right back.
At which point they make screaming fools of themselves — just like the healthcare town meetings; and thereby lose support.
Of interest to me was a lady in Oregon saying she home-schooled her kids, because public schools were so horrible.
How this firestorm divulged into that topic is questionable. But as David said, it was a typical Internet discussion.
I don’t know as public schools are any better or worse than when I was in school in the ‘50s — perhaps worse.
But I come from an age where if I flunked something (e.g. math), it was MY fault, not the school-system.
My fourth-grade teacher, Mrs. Marlin, was an ogre; so multiplication and division were learned with flashcards made by my father.
To this day I still know by rote that nine times nine equals eighty-one. I don’t need no calculator, and I can hardly imagine my father excoriating Mrs. Marlin, no less taking me out of the public school system.
My comment on Wheeler’s Facebook was that no one is listening to Conservatives any more, so the Conservatives have gone ballistic.
Rush Limbaugh bouncing up-and-down in a catatonic OxyContin® rage.
Wheeler, my friend, you inadvertently opened a hornets’ nest.
Just recently kindly Wheeler was refusing to join a noisy pillory-fest against another ex-Messenger reporter who worked long ago in the Sports Department.
“Not here to defend himself,” he said.
I once attended a party where a Conservative family-member loudly declared “All liberals should be lined up and shot!”
“Wait a minute,” I said. “That includes me.”
On Wheeler’s Facebook, I predicted a return to the Dark Ages.

• RE: “Mighty MAC......” —All my siblings use Windows PCs, but I use an Apple MacIntosh (“MAC”), so I am therefore stupid and of-the-Devil.

Thursday, September 03, 2009

“Pedal-to-the-metal!”

The other day (Tuesday, September 1, 2009), after a slowish jog through Boughton Park (“BOW-tin;” as in “wow”), I was exiting the parking-lot onto Boughton Road.
My wife and dog were with me — they had run along — and we were in our 2005 Toyota Sienna All-Wheel-Drive minivan, which we think highly of, but nicknamed the “Bathtub,” since it’s large and white and like sitting in a bathtub.
Boughton Road west to County Road 39 is no passing, and was clear as we pulled out.
But as soon as we did, an angry white Ford Focus was on our rear bumper, its enraged driver shaking his fist and pounding his steering-wheel — between long drags on a cigarette, and keying in something on his cellphone.
Mr. macho-man angled suddenly across the double-yellow, and gave me the one-finger salute, as he charged past pedal-to-the metal.
As he pulled back in front of me, I noticed a Christian fish on his trunk-lip, next to a Dubya-Cheney ‘04 sticker, and another bumper-sticker saying Bambi got what she deserved.
Macho-man was well ahead as I turned onto County Road 39, and was turning south on Bennett Road as I topped the rise, at least 300 yards away.
Note to self: just let ‘em by..........
A similar occurrence happened long ago during a day-long journey to Altoona, PA.
I was southbound on the old two-lane that used to be U.S. 220.
A gray Pontiac roared up behind me, its driver shaking his fist.
The car passed, and its driver gave me the one-finger salute.
The car then disappeared quickly into the distance.
Far ahead I noticed a white Crown Vic pull out of a side road.
Soon I passed both the Pontiac and the Crown Vic; the Pontiac pulled over.
Thankfully, no one came the other way when macho-man passed.

• “Boughton Park” is a small park near where we live. There are two ponds, but no swimming. It used to be a town water-supply.
• My wife of 41+ years is “Linda.” Like me she’s retired, but she works part-time at the West Bloomfield post-office.
• Our current dog is “Scarlett;” a rescue Irish-Setter. She’s four, and is our sixth Irish-Setter.
• “Boughton Road” runs along the southern edge of the park, to “County Road 39,” another rural two-lane. County Road 39, which is westerly, crosses “Bennett Road.”
• A “Dubya-Cheney ‘04 sticker” is a Bush-Cheney 2004 bumper-sticker. All insane traffic-moves seem to involve Bush-supporters. They seem to think they have the right.
• “Altoona, PA” is the location of Horseshoe Curve (the “mighty Curve”), by far the BEST railfan spot I have ever been to. Horseshoe Curve is a national historic site. It was a trick used by the Pennsylvania Railroad to get over the Allegheny mountains without steep grades. Horseshoe Curve was opened in 1854, and is still in use. (I am a railfan, and have been since I was a child.)
• A “Crown Vic” (“Vick”) is the full-size Ford Crown Victoria, what police commonly use.

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Wednesday, September 02, 2009

Monthly Calendar-Report For September, 2009


Bam-bam-bam-bam! (Photo by O. Winston Link.)

—He’s done it again!
Mr. Link has successfully captured and depicted the drama of Norfolk & Western Railway slugging it out eastbound up Blue Ridge Grade.
The September 2009 entry of my O. Winston Link “Steam and Steel” calendar is a Norfolk & Western freight-train assaulting Blue Ridge Grade.
Blue Ridge Grade, east of Roanoke, VA, is the final impediment to Norfolk & Western Railway delivering its torrent of Pocahontas coal to tidewater.
It’s only 1.2%; not that steep, but steep enough.
The engine depicted isn’t identified, but appears to be an “A,” a 2-6-6-4 articulated. That’s an A’s pilot. A Y6’s (2-8-8-2) is slatted.
It’s pulling a merchandise freight; not coal. It probably has a Y6 helper on the back.
Link is taking advantage of poor conditions to get a standout picture.
Photo by Bob Crone.
I’ve flown a similar picture by Bob Crone for comparison.
It appears to have been taken at the same place, yet is droll compared to Link.
Crone’s picture is in sunlight. Distractions are sunlit.
With Link the adjacent trees are muted by the fog, so the train stands out.
One of the first pictures I had published, in Road & Track Magazine, of the Canadian Grand Prix in 1971, is in the fog at Mosport (“MAH-sport”) race track near Toronto.
Photo by the so-called “old guy”
with the Pentax Spotmatic camera.
It was so foggy and dark I pushed my Tri-X clear outta sight; ASA 2400 instead of the usual 400. My developer was Acufine® — strong stuff; it increased film-speed.
But at 2400 the film looks like 400-grit sandpaper; so grainy ya notice.
Yet there is Mario Andretti in a Ferrari blasting up the back straight at Mosport in the fog.
A simple picture; an inadvertent attempt to grab something out of the fog.
It has drama for shoving all distraction aside. I don’t think it woulda worked in sunlight.
They used it, nationwide; a mood shot.
Link was doing the same thing. You can see grain; although it’s a 4x5 negative instead of 35 mm.


‘Vette, a 1960.

—The September entry of my Oxman legendary sportscar calendar is a 1960 Chevrolet Corvette.
The Corvette has always been badmouthed by sportscar fanatics.
The earliest Corvettes were terrible; little more than a glitzy body on a sedan chassis.
Plus at first it had a boat-anchor of a motor, a hot-rodded Chevy Stovebolt-six with multiple carburetors.
But in the 1955 model-year, Chevrolet introduced its fabulous Small-Block V8, and began installing it in the Corvette.
At last the humble Corvette was beginning to shine, although mainly it was that Small-Block. The chassis was still the unsophisticated sedan chassis.
The Corvette didn’t really become a sportscar until the 1963 model-year, the first Corvette to display the heavy influence of Zora Arkus-Duntov.
The ‘63 Corvette Sting-Ray introduced independent-rear-suspension, although an el-cheapo interpretation thereof.
What shone above all was the Small-Block V8, plus the four-speed floor-shifted tranny Duntov got.
The car pictured is a 1960; one of the early Corvettes.
The best looking early ‘Vettes are the ‘56 and ‘57; the most collectible the ‘57 with fuel-injection.
The ‘58 introduced quad headlights, and they look overdone by comparison.
The ‘60 is essentially the ‘58.
The early ‘Vettes are essentially drag cars: fast in a straight line. Don’t throw a curve at it. They’re not a sportscar. Unsophisticated underpinnings.
Photo by the so-called “old guy.”
Mitchell’s ‘58 Corvette.
I’ve included a long-ago picture of a white ‘58 Corvette from when I was in high-school.
The owner, named Mitchell, had traded a great-looking white ‘55 Chevy two-door hardtop, floor-shifted four-speed Small-Block.
I’m sure the ‘Vette was stronger, but it was a great-looking ‘55; the car I lusted after all through college.
I notice Mitchell’s ‘Vette had -a) short lakes pipes, -b) wide-whites, -c) spun-aluminum disc hubcaps, and -d) some of the vertical grill-teeth removed.
“Mitchell” was a son of the owner of “Mitchell’s Department Store” in Fairfax Shopping Center near where we lived.
The car is parked behind the shopping center.
Spun-aluminum full-disc hubcaps became very popular when I was in high-school.
One afternoon earlier in northern Delaware I was peddling my ancient RollFast balloon-tire bicycle through the parking-lot of Fairfax Shopping Center.
I was probably 14; this is 1958.
I noticed three Corvettes parked in front of the bowling alley; two ‘57s and a ‘56. One ‘57 was fuel-injection.
All-of-a-sudden four macho dudes burst out of the bowling alley and slammed into the ‘Vettes.
I immediately peddled my bicycle up to the parking-lot exit where it spilled onto four-lane Route 202.
I knew I was about to witness AN EVENT.
Sure enough, the three ‘Vettes roared out on 202, and wound out to about 7,000 rpm in first gear.
Smoke poured from the rear tires!
I’ve been a sucker for the Small-Block ever since. All through high-school and college I dreamed of owning a four-speed Small-Block.
My enthusiasm waned somewhat when motorcycle manufacturers began fielding motors even more sophisticated.
But not for Corvettes.
Sadly Chevrolet is still fielding pretty much the same car; a glitz-machine with a great motor.
And recent Corvettes are pretty good.
Just not the great sportscars that Honda and Mazda put out.
Too big and heavy.
And Corvette’s motor is still two-valve with cam in block. Even Ford is fielding four-valves-per-cylinder and overhead cams.
The best ‘Vettes were those 1963-1967 C2 Corvettes. Corvette started to falter after 1968 (the C3). —The newer ‘Vettes are better, but not what the C2 was back then.
Part of it was the buyer; people more interested in luxury than sporting performance.
The Corvette became the preserve of macho wannabees — profiling.
Still a super car, but with a motor pumped up by size and supercharging.


A Norfolk Southern coal train crosses Clinch River near Ceder Bluff, VA. (Photo by Chris Dalton.)

—The September 2009 entry of my Norfolk Southern Employees calendar is a Norfolk Southern coal-train crossing Clinch River in VA.
Three things are worth mentioning here:
—1) It looks like the boys at the Norfolk Southern calendar contest are trying to inject fall foliage into the September entry.
In my experience, this is early.
Even here up north, the trees don’t turn until October. I can’t imagine them turning any sooner in VA.
Which means the picture was probably taken in October.
—2) 2662 is an SD70M-2, the locomotive EMD fielded to compete with General Electric’s phenomenally successful Dash9-44CW.
EMD used to monopolize the railroad locomotive market.
It’s locomotives were so great they put Alco out of business, and Alco was their major competition.
But General Electric fielded its U-boat series, which compared with anything EMD.
Newer series were brought to market by General Electric, and they eventually passed EMD in sales.
EMD also had to design an all-new four-cycle prime mover comparable to what GE was using, and also to meet the new “Tier 2” emission regulations; replacing their storied two-cycle prime mover that had been around since the beginning of railroad dieselization.
2662 has the new motor; and Norfolk Southern bought quite a few. SD70-M2s are showing up as primary power on the point of freights.
It’s getting so ya see more of them than the General Electric units — Norfolk Southern derated the Dash9-44CWs to 4,000 horsepower from 4,400; Dash9-40CWs.
General Electric also developed a 12-cylinder diesel to meet the emission requirements; the “Evolution Series.”
Don’t know as I’ve noticed any on Norfolk Southern yet, but probably have. They look just like Dash9s; ya tell them by number.
—3) My question was whether this was the storied Norfolk & Western main, or Virginian.
Looks like only one track.
I dragged out my 1928 Railroad Atlas, and my VA gazateer. Looks like it’s a branch off the N&W main — it’s not far from Bluefield.
Virginian was built to counter two things: -a) the fact Norfolk & Western had a monopoly on shipping Pocohontas coal, and -b) Norfolk & Western was a difficult railroad to operate; all hills and curves.
Virginian was built to an easier profile; it followed river valleys instead of climbing the Blue Ridge like N&W.
N&W had to climb two or three mountain grades to cart coal eastbound to tidewater.
Virginian avoided that.
But Virginian never became a success; they eventually had to sell to Norfolk & Western.
So the question was whether the coal-train pictured was on the old Virginian grade.
It’s not.


Tudor.

—That’s the Ford appellation. “Tudor.”
The September 2009 entry of my Oxman hot-rod calendar is a hot-rodded 1932 Ford two-door sedan highboy.
“Highboy” in the sense that it’s at stock ride-height, not lowered, although devoid of fenders.
Who would ever think I’d like a humble Ford two-door sedan as a hot-rod?
The 1932 Ford is the most popular hot-rod of all time.
A number of body styles were available, most popular as hot-rods being the two-seat open roadster, and the coupes.
Best looking to me are the three-window coupes, although the five-window looks okay.
A five-window coupe has small windows behind the door-posts, rendering five windows total other than the windshield.
A three-window coupe doesn’t have the small windows behind the door-posts, to me rendering a cleaner appearance.
Also available was a large open pheaton (“fay-uh-tin”) that would seat four. It was nicknamed “the bathtub,” since it looked like that, and exposed its passengers to the elements.
Least desirable were the sedans; two-door and four-door, closed, but rather large and heavy.
Other body styles were available, notably the “Victoria” (“Vicky”), and a cabriolet (“cab-ree-oh-LAY”), a convertible. —Both ware rare.
The roadster wasn’t a convertible. It had just a flimsy rag-top that attached to the windshield, and the body behind the seats. It didn’t fold down. —Little weather protection.
The Vicky was a full-steel two-door sedan, although slightly shorter with a bustle-back. The sedans still had fabric top inserts, but the Vicky was all-steel.
All ‘32 Fords were cheap and available, so that once-in-a-while somebody would hot-rod a sedan, or worse yet a pheaton.
Yet here we have a two-door sedan that looks really great.
Slam (lower) the poor dear, and it would look terrible.
But the owner, Steve Young, didn’t do that.
It’s named the “LA sedan,” fulfillment of a hot-rod sedan concept in a magazine.
And that’s a 392 Hemi engine. —It has six carburetors.
The car shouldn’t be slow, but is probably a trailer-queen.
And them exhaust headers are all open. Start it, and it will clean your ears out.


One of only two. (Photo by Philip Makanna©.)

—The September 2009 entry of my Ghosts WWII warbirds calendar is one of only two remaining flyable B24s.
It’s depressing to think out of over 18,000 built, only two remain flyable, and this is one: “Ol’ 927” of the Commemorative Air Force.
The B24 was progress over the B17; it had greater range, and could carry a bigger payload.
But not much. Both were still sitting ducks for enemy fighters; bog slow.
Both were dependent on heavy armament; machine guns galore.
That’s all they had to defend against marauding enemy fighters, unless they had accompanying fighters themselves.
The North-American P51 Mustang made that possible. Earlier fighters didn’t have the range.
Over enemy territory, alone and far from base, the B17s and B24s were sitting ducks.
No fighter accompaniment until the P51, an airplane that could run circles around Messerschmitts.
The B24 was a large strategic bomber, an airplane designed to deliver a heavy load of bombs a great distance.
It saw heavy use, but mainly over Italy and in the Pacific.
Assembly-lines were set up the produce B24s prodigiously.
It’s shameful only two remain flyable. —This is in comparison to the B17; 13 still airworthy. Seemed there were more than that — B17s are a dime a dozen.
The other flyable B24 is the one flown by the Collings Foundation.
I think this is the one I saw at the Geneseo Air Show years ago, although it had a paintjob that at-that-time seemed out-of-the-ordinary. It named all the contributors to its restoration on the flanks of its fuselage.
Thankfully, the Collings Foundation dispensed with that, if it was them.
Now their B24 is painted with an actual WWII paint-scheme.
Years ago I used to stay at a Days Inn in Altoona, when visiting Horseshoe Curve. The guy who founded that motel flew B24s during WWII. A painting of a B24 was in the motel lobby.
“That’s a B52,” said the motel clerk.
“It is not!” I yelled.
“It’s a B24.”
She was dumbfounded.
The Days Inn is now a Holiday Inn Express; that B24 pilot is probably dead.


Hemi ‘Cuda. (Photo by David Newhardt.)

—The September 2009 entry of my Motorbooks Musclecars calendar is a 1971 Hemi ‘Cuda.
The later Barracudas (which this one is; 1970-1974) are not as good as the early ones, although the early ones weren’t very good either.
The later ‘Cudas (and similarly the Dodge Challenger) were based on the mid-size Plymouths and Dodges; that is, the firewall and passenger compartment are essentially the same as the mid-size Mopars.
The earlier ‘Cudas were based on the Plymouth Valiant/Dodge Dart; essentially with a fastback body.
1965 Barracuda.
They debuted in the 1964 model-year; the car pictured at left is a 1965.
Technically they are the first ponycar (it beat the Mustang by two weeks), although they didn’t do what Mustang did, which was lengthen the hood section, and shorten the trunk — a modification of the plebeian Ford Falcon platform that sold like hotcakes.
That’s the long-hood, short-trunk jones common to many sportscars at that time.
A look.
Barracuda didn’t have that, so they moved on to generation two, pictured below, 1966-1969 — the car pictured is a 1968.
This looked much better, but still wasn’t the long-hood, short-trunk theme.
1968 Barracuda.
The second-generation ‘Cuda is probably the best. It looked pretty good; just not as good as the Mustang.
I remember rallying in one as a passenger in a sportscar rally. The rally was put on by the Corvair Owners Club — Corvair being probably the best car Detroit ever made.
Almost a Porsche (“poor-SHA”).
But the rallyist had moved beyond the humble Corvair. The car had a 440 cubic-inch V8 engine. Overkill! Stick your foot in it and hold on for dear life.
Rallying was more navigation and hitting time-points precisely. If ya did all this correctly, ya didn’t have to speed.
Numerous navigation mistakes were made, requiring hammer-down.
And then there was waiting in line in sight of a time-point. Too much hammer-down caused arriving early. —In which case, get in line and shut off.
The guy’s wife was navigator. My reaction was if they could survive this, marriage was nothing!
Still, a nice looking car. And a fastback. Notchbacks and convertibles were also available. I think it was red.
But it didn’t have the long-hood short-trunk Mustang appearance.
So on to Generation #3.
Long-hood short-trunk jones applied, but to the mid-size midsection.
Looked okay, just large.
But the other ponycars were getting larger too. The ‘70 and ‘71 Mustang are the best looking Mustangs, but larger than the original.
In 1972 the Mustang got larger still; too large.
The ‘71&1/2 and ‘72 Camaros are a styling triumph — one of the best looking cars of all time.
But too big.
The Generation 3 Barracuda looks okay, but it looks like they couldn’t decide what to do with the grill insert.
Too busy!
And a Hemi motor, fabulous as it is, would make the car front-heavy.


Baldwin Sharks move through Marysville on the old Middle Division on Memorial Day of 1955. (Photo by Don Wood©.)

—The September 2009 entry of my Audio-Visual Designs B&W All-Pennsy Calendar is not that good, three Baldwin Sharks on the old Middle Division in 1955.
But two things are worth flying it:
—1) It’s a Don Wood picture.
Not very good, but Don Wood is the photographer whose photos were used in the first Audio-Visual Designs B&W All-Pennsy Calendars.
The Audio-Visual Designs B&W All-Pennsy Calendar began in the ‘60s, a collaboration of publisher Carl Sturner with photographer Wood.
And some of Wood’s photographs were incredible; photographs of the end of steam locomotion on Pennsy in the ‘50s.
Most memorable was an image of Pennsy Decapods (2-10-0) slamming the heavy Mt. Carmel ore-train upgrade on the Mr. Carmel branch.
It was in the dead of winter, and a huge column of backlit smoke and steam towers above the engines.
Very dramatic, but this one isn’t.
And Don Wood is dead.
—2) The locomotives are Baldwin Sharks, what railfans perceive as the best-looking early diesel locomotive.
They were styled by Raymond Loewy, who fixed up the styling of the incredible GG1 (“Gee-Gee-One”) electric locomotive for Pennsy.
The Sharks looked great, but Pennsy hated ‘em. Too undependable. They’d cripple and block the railroad.
It was a demonstration of a major Pennsy mistake: putting off dieselization to the last minute.
And thereby having to purchase diesels from anybody and everybody.
Including Baldwin Locomotive Works.
Baldwin had built steam locomotives for eons.
They were a main supplier to Pennsy, although to Pennsy designs.
But their diesels were wanting, especially compared to EMD (GM’s Electromotive Division).
But much prettier than the EMD F-unit.
It’s a shame the plain-jane F was so much more reliable; but mainly a criticism of Baldwin.
And the Shark was much prettier than Baldwin’s first efforts, e.g. the Centipede , pictured below.
Baldwin Centipede at Horseshoe Curve.
Baldwin had built the Centipede as passenger power for Pennsy.
But it was so unreliable it was degraded to helper service on The Hill, Pennsy’s assault of the Allegheny mountains, which includes Horseshoe Curve.
Plus -a) they were very hard to maintain — individualized wiring in metal conduits, just like steam locomotives, and -b) they couldn’t be MU-ed.
Baldwin eventually went out of business.

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Tuesday, September 01, 2009

New signal-bridge


(Screenshot by the mighty MAC.)

It looks like Norfolk Southern Railway finally rotated their new signal-bridge over the tracks at the mighty Curve (see picture above).
When we visited a month ago the new signal-bridge was erected, but not over the tracks.
The new signal-bridge replaces the old Pennsy position-light signal-bridge visible behind it.
This removes the final vestige of Pennsy at the mighty Curve.
...That is, if you disregard that the mighty Curve is Pennsy, as is the entire railroad alignment over the Allegheny mountains.
It was opened in 1854, as was Horseshoe Curve, and is still in use.
Horseshoe Curve was a trick by Pennsy to surmount the Alleghenies without steep grades. —With mid 19th-century grading technology.
The railroad is now operated by Norfolk Southern Railway.
Early in our nation’s history, the Alleghenies were a barrier to west-east trade. They could only be surmounted by pack-horse, and then horse-and-wagon.
The Chesapeake & Ohio Canal stopped at Cumberland, MD; foot of the Alleghenies.
New York didn’t have an Allegheny barrier, so built their Erie Canal.
The only barriers they had were -1) the Niagara Escarpment and -2) getting up out of the Hudson River valley. Not too bad.
They surmounted the Escarpment with a slew of locks at Lockport.
The Erie was so successful the people of Pennsylvania built their own canal system, the vaunted Public Works System.
But they had the Allegheny barrier to deal with.
They surmounted it with a portage railroad.
But it wasn’t a normal railroad.
Grading being in its infancy, hills were climbed with inclined planes.
A stationary steam-engine at the top of the plane would tie up to the cars at the foot of the plane, and pull them up.
The entire Public Works System was cumbersome and slow.
The canal packets got transferred onto railroad flatcars for the Portage Railroad.
It became obvious what was needed was a continuous railroad.
Railroads also weren’t shut down by the waterway freezing.
The Baltimore & Ohio Railroad, founded in 1827, was a similar endeavor; an effort by Baltimoreans to counter the phenomenal success of the Erie Canal.
Capitalists in Philadelphia chartered the Pennsylvania Railroad, first from Harrisburg to Pittsburgh.
It was an attempt to offset the unwieldiness of the Public Works System.
Pennsy became incredibly successful.
It acquired feeder-lines into Pittsburgh, funneling products of the midwest to the east.
It became the largest railroad in the world, but began falling apart in the ‘50s with the Interstate Highway System — government subsidization of truck commerce.
Pennsy was also carrying an expensive commuter service into New York City and Philadelphia.
And had heavy taxation.
Pennsy had to merge with its eastern arch-rival, New York Central System, in 1968, and even that (Penn-Central) eventually tanked.
Successor Conrail was set up by the government to take in all the bankrupt eastern railroads — there were others beside Penn-Central — and that was successful; so successful it privatized.
The regulatory environment had been changed to allow railroads to be more competitive versus trucking; plus commuter-service was transferred to public authorities — no longer a private railroad function.
Eventually Conrail was broken up and sold; partly to CSX Transportation and partly to Norfolk Southern.
Behind all this was continuous use of Pennsy’s assault on the Alleghenies, including Horseshoe Curve.
Pennsy had instituted position-light signaling; often over so many tracks a signal-bridge was required.
All up and down The Hill are old Pennsy signal-bridges — there was one at the mighty Curve.
But they can’t last forever; the structure rusts, and the signaling is so old it can fail.


The signal-bridge at Summerhill, on the eastbound climb toward Allegheny summit. (The signals for eastbound trains are raised to be observable over that highway overpass.) (Photo by the so-called “old guy” with the dreaded and utterly reprehensible Nikon D100 camera.)

There also is minimal clearance for double-stacks.
I looked again this morning (Tuesday, September 1, 2009) at the Curve web-cam, and the old position-light signal-bridge is gone.

• RE: “Mighty MAC......” —All my siblings use Windows PCs, but I use an Apple MacIntosh (“MAC”), so I am therefore stupid and of-the-Devil.
• The “mighty Curve” (“Horseshoe Curve”), west of Altoona, Pennsylvania, is by far the BEST railfan spot I have ever been to. Horseshoe Curve is a national historic site. It was a trick used by the Pennsylvania Railroad to get over the Allegheny mountains without steep grades. Horseshoe Curve was opened in 1854, and is still in use. (I am a railfan, and have been since I was a child.) —Horseshoe Curve has a web-cam, but it’s awful.
• “The Hill” is common parlance for the Pennsylvania Railroad’s surmounting of the Allegheny mountains. Westbound is a continuous uphill grade of 1.8 % (up 1.8 feet for every 100 feet forward); not that steep but steep enough to often require helpers; additional locomotives. 4% would have been just about impossible.
• RE: “‘Old guy’ with the dreaded and utterly reprehensible Nikon D100.......” —My macho, blowhard brother-from-Boston, who is 13 years younger than me, calls me “the old guy” as a put-down (I also am the oldest). I also am loudly excoriated by all my siblings for preferring a professional camera (like the Nikon D100) instead of a point-and-shoot. This is because I long ago sold photos to nationally published magazines.
• “Double-stack” is two trailer containers stacked two high without wheels in so-called “wellcars.” —It’s much more efficient than single containers (or trailers) on flatcars, since it’s two containers per car. It’s the same shipping containers shipped overseas; where they may be stacked three or four high, or even higher if a support deck is under a stack. But “double-stacks” require very high clearance; over 20 feet. Bridges had to be raised, and tunnels made larger.

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