Saturday, February 27, 2010

Snow day


19 inches deep. (Photo by BobbaLew.)

I try to go to the Canandaigua YMCA Exercise-Gym three days a week; Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.
It’s part of my feeble effort to remain viable despite advancing age (66).
Last Friday, February 26, 2010, was impossible.
Our driveway was under one-to-two feet of snow.
It would have to be removed first.
So Friday was a snow-day.
So far I’ve only used my snowblower one other time this season, about a month ago.
Both our cars are All-Wheel-Drive, so I don’t have to constantly clear the driveway.
Up to about eight inches deep the cars can handle it.
Beyond that they can’t.
So that’s my threshold; over eight inches, it has to be blown out.
First time it was only six inches, but I figured I better blow it out before it got higher. —Anyway, it was getting messy.
It was a drag.
I’m getting older, so blowing it out was no fun at all.
At that time, I wondered how I’d ever keep up with it.
But last Friday it needed to be cleared again.
What to do......
Call my friend Kenny to have him plow me out?
My neighbor does that, leaving him with a fairly clear driveway, and a surrounding mess.
Photo by BobbaLew.
So I put on my boots, got the snowblower key, and tramped out to my shed.
My garden-shed doesn’t have electricity, but I have a 100-foot outdoor extension-cord to it.
That extension-cord plugs into an outdoor socket at my house.
My snowblower, a big 28-inch Honda HS828, has electric-start; that is, powered by house current.
I plugged it in and cranked it about 30 times, and it lit.
Once lit it roars like a large farm tractor.
Hammer-and-tongs; nothing stops it.
Angle snowblower gingerly out of shed, and start snowblowing.
It went fairly easily.
Did the whole driveway in about an hour; that’s 75 feet to the road, plus a giant turnaround.
“That thing sure does a nice job,” my wife said.
Didn’t feel old this time.

• I work out in the Canandaigua YMCA exercise-gym. (“Canandaigua” [“cannon-DAY-gwuh”] is a small city to the east 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.)
• “Our” is my wife of 42+ years (Linda) and I.

Friday, February 26, 2010

No TV

For two weeks we’ve been without television.
No Jeopardy in hi-def with Vapid Vanna; no Lost Final Season (I bet!); no Bachelor Whatever strutting his pecks.
No great loss for us.
All we ever watched was the Evening News on tape delay while eating supper.
The other day a friend visited, and she noted our puny SONY with its 8&1/2 inch wide screen.
“Is that all the TV you guys got?” she cried, laughing.
“Yep,” I said. “Nothing on there is worth watching. Our money is in our computers.”
We get cable-TV. I have a special gizmo that puts TV on my ‘pyooter monitor, and sound through its speakers.
So the test to see if our cable is viable is to see if I can get TV on this here rig.
When we go way, I unplug the TV to avoid fire.
Unplugging the VCR is a hairball. Plugged back in it refuses to timer-record lest I “abracadabra” it.
I’ve dealt with it many times, and have yet to deduce a procedure.
We had gone to Altoona (“al-TUNE-uh”), PA, so unplugged the TV.
Plugged back in there was a POOF, and smoke appeared.
Sound, but no video.
Both the TV and VCR are together on the same table.
First we thought it was the TV, a CRT around 10 years old.
But now we’re not so sure.
Actually our VCR is a combination DVR/VCR that can also play and dub.
We connected the VCR to my ‘pyooter, and no video there either.
So the drill becomes:
—1) Test cable first.
—2) Buy another VCR, and
if still no video to a TV......
—3) Buy a new TV.
Hopefully this will solve the problem, of what little significance it is.
News at supper is a custom, one of the few occasions we get to do anything together throughout the day.
Right now we eat apart; me watching train DVDs on my ‘pyooter, and my wife eating on her aunt’s old hoosier in the kitchen.
Supposedly I could record the news with my ‘pyooter, but I doubt this rig would swallow a one-hour video-file.
Such a file would be HUGE!

• “We” is my wife of 42+ years and I.
“Altoona, PA” is the location of Horseshoe Curve, by far the BEST railfan spot I have ever been to. Horseshoe Curve is now 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. —I’ve been there hundreds of times, since it’s only about five hours away.

Labels:

Thursday, February 25, 2010

Charley

Almost 44 long years ago, yrs trly darkened the halls of his beloved alma mater, good old Houghton College, about 70 miles south of Rochester, NY on the Genesee River, the last time.
I’ve never regretted it; it was the most pleasant and rewarding thing I ever did.
And that’s despite my being an outcast there. The college is evangelical, and I’m not.
Yet they weren’t browbeating me. I always respected them for that.
I almost got canned on a tight-pants rap (a la Rolling Stones), but wasn’t.
They let me graduate with a B.A. in History. —And a future wife; same one I’ve been with over 42 years.
While there I gained the friendship of a fellow ne’er-do-well, one Charley Gardiner.
It was a pleasant yet somewhat difficult friendship. —Pleasant because we shared similar interests, yet difficult only because Charley was a superior, all-knowing being, and I was an inferior dolt.
Charley was from near New York City, Long Island actually.
Over the years, and many contacts, I’ve found New Yorkers tend to be elitist, supposedly more urbane and hip than we non New Yorkers.
And why not? Within New York City was a surfeit of intellectual stimulation.
Plus it was possible to visit without a car.
In fact a car is an impediment.
The few times I visited were by train into New York, and then subway-elevated therein.
And finally you hoofed it.
Brooklyn Bridge was hoofing it.
I’ve seen Charley three times since college; once at a college reunion, and twice at his digs in rural Massachusetts.
Each time we fell into our familiar roles, he being superior, and me the clueless dolt.
The other night I had a dream.
My wife and I were exiting a building onto a sun-dappled portico.
And there was Charley climbing the steps.
I wasn’t sure it was him. He looked too young, and was wearing a knitted winter cap.
The only thing visible that looked like Charley was his face.
Our eyes met, but I walked on by, rather than scare a complete stranger.
“BobbaLew,” he said, after I passed.
“I could stop by your apartment and visit. I could bring coffee.”
We congregated, and he had me hold a large Dixie-Cup containing what appeared to be a root-beer float with chocolate ice cream.
“Not coffee,” I said; “something like this, that scares the bejesus outta your teeth.”
“Still waxing eloquent,” Charley said.
“I am not!” I snapped. “We own a Toyota Sienna minivan, and a Honda CR-V; not an Eloquent.
And I haven’t waxed either in years. Us old folks farm such things out.”
Which is why Charley liked me; my penchant for slinging words into insane verbiage.
Others fell in.
I blog this stuff for them.
“How do you do it?” they ask.
“Well I don’t know,” I say. “I guess it was always in there.”
A jaundiced eye matched to an extensive vocabulary.
Read enough, and you gain the vocabulary.

• The “Genesee River” is a fairly large river that runs south-to-north across Western New York, runs through Rochester, including over falls, and empties into Lake Ontario. Houghton College is in its valley.

Monday, February 22, 2010

Anmari

(“Ann-muh-REEE”)
“What I need to do is be able to drive iMovie.
It’s on my machine; I’ve dickered with it a little, but I have no manual, so I’m stupefied.”
Anmari Linardi (“lin-ARE-deee”) used to be a photographer at the mighty Mezz during my employ, and also used to do their web-site, mainly because she could.
This seemed to be how duties were assigned; e.g. I ended up doing the web-site because I got so I could.
Anmari was an excellent photographer.
I used to call her my illustrator. I could depend on her to give me the great photos the web-site needed.
Not just artistic photographs, but artistic photographs that illustrated.
Anmari left, and I later retired.
She’s one of my vaunted “ne’er-do-wells.”
The Ne’er-do-Wells are an e-mail list of all those I send my blogs to.
The Ne’er-do-Wells also all have reprehensible reputations.
They’re not tub-thumping Conservatives prompted by Limbaugh.
“Don’t take me outta your ne’er-do-well list,” Anmari told me. “It’s a status thing.”
So Anmari agreed to come over.
She had just assembled her own movie-trailer on her ‘pyooter, so I figured she could show me how to drive iMovie.
iMovie is a computer software application for editing movie-files (or video-files). It comes with OS-X, Apple’s current computer operating-system.
“I have this old VHS video of a restored railroad steam-locomotive, which I panned for a long time.”
I’m a railfan, and have been since I was a child.
“It’s great, and I’ve always wanted to edit it down into something I could post on You-Tube.”
So we wedged a time-slot into our blizzard of medical appointments and errands.
“That guy has an early G4 MAC tower I sold him years ago,” her husband Andrew said.
Andrew works at Mac Shack on Penfield Road near Rochester, where I’ve bought TONS of Apple Macintosh computer equipment.
“You wanna do what?” Anmari said.
“That’s serious editing. There’s no way what you got will do any such thing. A 20-minute video-file is HUGE. Your rig won’t even swallow it.”
“Yeah, I was worried about that,” I said. “But I was planning to upgrade anyway. I need portability; a laptop.”
We were challenged. My VCR is on-the-blink. No video output. It wouldn’t even play my video.
My TV may be out too. Sound but no picture. But that may be because my VCR has no video output. My TV cable is routed through my VCR.
But I have Eye-TV, a computer software and hardware application that puts video on your ‘pyooter, e.g. various TV channels.
I could get the local channels on my ‘pyooter, but not the VHS tape. No video-output from the VCR.
So we stabbed around. Anmari is far more computer-savvy than me, plus she hasn’t had a stroke. I get by on what intelligence I have left, which is apparently more than the average person.
First was figuring out how to get the local TV channels on my ‘pyooter; in other words, figuring out the Eye-TV.
There were already a few things I knew, so with Anmari driving we got the local TV channels on the ‘pyooter.
Next was recording, another function I already knew. But it was generating Eye-TV files, a format iMovie wouldn’t recognize.
Next requirement was to convert the Eye-TV files for iMovie. She Googled something that suggested some arcane procedure.
It was written out in some contorted instruction, and my ability to read and understand such things is compromised by my stroke.
But I knew I had also seen an “export” function somewhere, so we poked around some more.
We did find an “export” menu item, but it wasn’t what I had seen.
Didn’t matter. The menu export did the same thing, plus it could export for iMovie.
We thereafter fooled around with iMovie, and it looks like I could drive it. I’m not totally clueless any more.
So I suppose a new killer rig will replace what I currently have.
The consideration is my current rig was overkill when I bought it.
It’s amazing whatcha can get for $2,100; about the cost of my current rig.

• The “mighty Mezz” is the Canandaigua Daily-Messenger newspaper, from where I retired over four years ago. Best job I ever had. (“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.)
• I had a stroke October 26, 1993.
• “VCR” equals video-cassette-recorder. What I actually have is a combination DVD recorder and VCR — a dubber. —It also plays.

Sunday, February 21, 2010

‘56 Chevy



My April 2010 issue of Hemmings Classic Car magazine has a 1956 Chevrolet BelAir four-door hardtop (pictured above) on its cover.
The ‘56 Chevy is one of the infamous Tri-Chevys, ‘55-‘57, perhaps the best Chevrolets ever brought to market.
Chevrolet was still building basic transportation, but for the 1955 model-year introduced their fabulous Small-Block V8, a watershed design — that determined the future of Detroit V8s.
Instrumental were ball-stud rockers, and lightweight valve-gear. It let the engine rev to the moon.
The Small-Block made a great hot-rod engine; it became the motor-of-choice for hot-rodders.
So many were cheap and available, plus it was light and small. It supplanted the famous Ford Flat-Head V8, the engine that started hot-rodding.
The Tri-Chevys were like ‘30s Fords; cheap but fast.
In the 1958 model-year Chevrolet strayed from basic transportation, turning to glitz and glamour.
For the 1959 model-year Chevrolet strayed far afield; all swooping curves and drama grafted to an el-cheapo grille.
A car styled by a committee.
An el-cheapo ‘59 Chevy DelRay looks ridiculous; a kid dressed for prom-night in an ill-fitting flashy rental tux.
Of the Tri-Chevys, to my mind, the ‘56 is the worst.
The ‘55 is the best; ‘57 not bad, but pretending too much to be a Cadillac.
Even the ‘55 makes two styling faux pas: -1) that wraparound windshield, and -2) Cadillac styling out back.
Strip the chrome off and it looks like a Buick.
But still squarish and small.
Offsetting that is that fabulous Ferrari egg-crate grille; a step away from the chrome-laden grilles of earlier Chevys.
The grille of the ‘56 is too squarish, an apparent reaction to the ‘55 grille being too plain.
And there are those taillights; an overly detailed modification of the great-looking taillights of the ‘55 Chevy.
About the end of 1955 I was riding my bicycle up Park Drive in Erlton — I would been 11.
A brand-new ‘56 Chevy, just like this one, same colors, was in a driveway, garnished with a large red bow on top.
Just like the recent Lexus ads.
It was just before Christmas. Someone had just purchased a new ‘56 Chevy.
Although it was probably a four-dour sedan; not a hardtop.
‘56 Chevys were apparently quite popular.
It was that motor.
My friend Harry Founds had one.
Photo by BobbaLew.
I took this off a stepladder.
Founds was in my high-school class.
He had purchased it already customized by its previous owner.
Customization was minor, just nose-and-deck and that Chrysler lion emblem on the front fenders.
Although nosing a ‘56 Chevy was a major project. Its hood-ornament is on a raised emboss.
That all had to be cut out, and sheetmetal welded in to be flush.
Then everything had to be smoothed with lead filler.
Most owners of ‘56 Chevys didn’t attempt nosing — except to remove the hood-ornament and perhaps fill the holes.
The raised emboss remained.
But the previous owner did it right.
Probably cost him hundreds.
Looking at this, anyone who ever owned a ‘56 Chevy knows what happened here.
The nosing looks professional, and great.
The previous owner also converted the three-speed column-shift to a floor-shift.
But it wasn’t the four-speed; still the 265 three-speed.
But it was a really great-looking car.
It was a shame Founds totaled it; wrapped it around a tree.
Scalped himself so-doing; got a ‘55 Chevy convertible after that. —Painted flat-gray.
He was a sucker for that motor.
And so was I.
When I was 14, I was peddling my ancient RollFast balloon-tire bicycle through the parking-lot of a nearby shopping-center, and I noticed three Corvettes parked in front of the bowling-alley, two ‘57s and a ‘56.
One ‘57 was Fuel-Injection.
Suddenly four macho dudes strode out of the bowling-alley and fired up the Corvettes.
I immediately peddled my bicycle up to the parking-lot exit.
I knew I was about to witness AN EVENT.
Sure enough, the three Corvettes pulled out onto the main highway in a torrent of smoking rubber.
WOW! I was a sucker for years.
My dream was to own a ‘55 Chevy of my own, with a four-speed Small-Block.
There were a few at my high-school.
And Founds’ car — despite it being a ‘56; but great-looking.
The Small-Block was incredible.
My parents bought a used ‘57 BelAir stationwagon, with a four-barrel 283 Small-Block.
The first car I really relished.
Everything prior to that was the Chevrolet Stovebolt Six.
All pigs!
For over 25 years my greatest desire was to own a ‘55 Chevy hardtop with a four-speed floor-shifted Small-Block.
Photo by BobbaLew.
At Cecil County Drag-o-way. (The kid walking in front was the driver.)
The car pictured at left drag-raced at Cecil County Drag-o-way. But it was tuned by Bill “Grumpy” Jenkins. It always won. Bog-stock (essentially, but it’s modified production — which probably means 283 four-speed), but extremely fast.
The Small-Block was fabulous.
A friend at the mighty Mezz had had a ‘56 Small-Block, but he’d wrenched in a 350 Small-Block.
He loved that car.
He brought in a picture of it and I identified it right away.
“A ‘56 150,” I said.
The Cecil County Drag-o-way car pictured is a ‘55 150 two-door business sedan; no rear seat, the lightest you could get.
My friend’s ‘56 was identical, but a full two-door sedan with a rear seat.
Still quite light, and fast enough to beat 383 RoadRunners.
The fact I knew what model it was left him impressed.
“The only thing wrong with that car was it wouldn’t stop.”
The Tri-Chevys were all drum brakes. Disc brakes are later.
When hot, drum brakes expanded away from the brake shoes.
Of note is that the Hemmings car is a four-door hardtop; pillarless.
Ya don’t see any such things any more.
Not very sturdy in a rollover.
Hardtops were the pillarless convertible windows, but with a hard top.
Most hardtops were two-door; four-door hardtops were an engineering nightmare.
How does one get the doors to not sag out of alignment without a pillar?

• The “rockers” turn the valve-motion about 180 degrees. Pushrods activated by the camshaft push up, and the “rockers” reverse the valve motion for valves in the cylinder-head. In the Chevrolet Small-Block the rockers were on pressed-in studs with a ball on the end (“ball-stud rockers”) — instead of a rocker-shaft; what rockers were on in-the-past. Ball-stud rockers were very cheap to manufacture — everyone eventually went to them. The pushrods were tubular, so very lightweight. Being light, they had much less momentum, and allowed the engine to rev higher without valve-float. Such lightness also allowed more extreme valve actuation. (Valve-float was for the valves to float freely, and perhaps smack into pistons.)
• “Erlton” (‘EARL-tin’) is the small suburb of Philadelphia in south Jersey where I lived until I was 13. “Park Drive” was a street near we lived. Erlton was founded in the ‘30s, named after its developer, whose name was Earl. Erlton was north of Haddonfield, an old Revolutionary town.
• “Nosing-and-decking” is to remove the hood-ornament and identifying monikers from the hood and trunklid — leaving a finished painted surface behind. This was usually the first thing(s) a car-customizer did.
• RE: 265 and 283....... —The Chevrolet Small-Block was first available at 265 cubic inches, then 283 cubic inches in the 1957 model-year. It was later expanded all the way up to 350 cubic inches displacement; the largest displacement of the Small-Block without siamesed cylinders. (Siamesed cylinders did not have cooling passages between cylinders; with that arrangement the Small-Block could be taken up to 400 cubic inches. But siamesed cylinders didn’t work very well.)
• “Fuel-Injection” was a specific arrangement that used various paraphernalia to replace the carburetors. It used engine-vacuum to meter the precise amount of fuel needed to each cylinder port, each of which had long tuned intake runners. —With such an arrangement, an engine could breathe much better, and thereby produce more power. Chevrolet introduced it in the 1957 model-year, on both the Corvette and their sedan. But it wasn’t very successful; too complicated for the average mechanic. —Carburetors are very sloppy, so now everything is fuel-injected to meet emission requirements.
• The Chevrolet overhead-valve inline “Stovebolt-six” was introduced in the 1929 model-year at 194+ cubic inches. It continued production for years, upgraded to four main bearings (from three) for the 1937 model-year. In 1950 the Stovebolt was upsized to 235.5 cubic inches (from 216), and later upgrades included full-pressure lubrication and hydraulic (as opposed to mechanical) valve-tappets. The Stovebolt was produced clear through the 1963 model-year, but replaced with a new seven-main bearing (as opposed to less — like four) inline-six engine in the 1964 model-year. The Stovebolt was also known as “the cast-iron wonder;” called the “Stovebolt” because various bolts could be replaced by stuff from the corner hardware.
• The “mighty Mezz” is the Canandaigua Daily-Messenger newspaper, from where I retired over four years ago. Best job I ever had. (“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.)
• The “383 RoadRunner” is a Plymouth RoadRunner model with a 383 cubic inch engine.

Labels:

Saturday, February 20, 2010

Tiger, Tiger, burning bright......

I’m at the Canandaigua YMCA the other day (Friday, February 19, 2010), quietly pumping away on one of their three fabulous Precor® AMT cardiovascular trainers.
Tiger Woods is on one of their wall-mounted plasma-babies; the one tuned to CNN.
He’s giving his first press conference since the accident, and subsequent media frenzy; “Live — Scripted,” it says. “No questions.”
It’s in the clubhouse at TPC Sawgrass — home of the PGA Tour — in Ponte Vedra Beach, FL.
A small select audience is attending, including three stony-faced women, glaring in the front row.
Thankfully no sound on the wall-mounted plasma-babies; even the closed-captioning is off.
The YMCA often runs closed-captioning on their plasma-babies, since there’s no sound.
So there’s Tiger, looking distraught and bedraggled.
CNN is running short video-clips of what he said as sidebars.
“I apologize,” blah-blah-blah; “I’m deeply sorry; I’ve ruined my family,” yada-yada-yada; “I failed those that look up to me — use me as an example,” mea culpa; “I thought I could get away with it, but I was caught.” Please take a number; no questions, please!
All I could think of was my Aunt May’s reaction to her ex, caught philandering.
“The bum,” she said.

• I work out in the Canandaigua YMCA exercise-gym. (“Canandaigua” [“cannon-DAY-gwuh”] is a small city to the east 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.)
• “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.”

Travel mug

Herewith, pictured at left, is our new travel-mug.
Also pictured is our old travel-mug, an item I picked up at a convenience story in Williamsport, PA.
It’s “Gulliver.” I think that convenience store was selling Gulliver’s coffee, too.
We never were happy with it.
It has a sip slit, but it’s recessed in the top. So sipping from it is a guaranteed coffee spill all over your lap. You can’t conform your mouth to keep it from spilling.
Can’t be done; physically impossible.
So I switched to just making coffee in it — drip-filtered. And drinking from it without the top when we traveled.
An open container. Don’t tip it.
Our van has 16 cup-holders; beat that!
The old travel-mug became grungy, and I don’t think it was stainless steel.
It was actually plastic, with an inside container made to look like it was stainless steel.
The outside container was clear see-through plastic, and water was leaking into the bottom; somehow.
Well, supposedly making hot coffee into plastic is toxic.
We were worried toxins might be leaching into the coffee.
Worst of all was the green mold forming where it leaked. And the water that leaked inside.
There was no way to get it apart.
Green mold galore!
Finally we tired of it.
It was getting disgusting.
The new travel-mug is Thermos®; actual stainless steel.
Via Amazon online, and reviewed semi-poorly.
That’s because people are upset the top, a mere press fit, pops off when shaken.
Not a problem to me. (I ain’t addin’ creme & sugar.)
I’m only making coffee in it, and we will try the sip-slit it has.
If it spills, I can drink out of it as an open container.

• We live in the small rural town of West Bloomfield in Western NY, southeast of Rochester. “Williamsport” is on the way to Altoona (“al-TOON-uh”), PA, location of
Horseshoe Curve (the “mighty Curve”), by far the BEST railfan spot I have ever been to. Horseshoe Curve is now 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. —I’ve been there hundreds of times, since it’s only about five hours away.)

Friday, February 19, 2010

Lo-Flow toilet

Photo by BobbaLew.
“Toto, I don’t think we’re in Kansas any more.”
Um, fellas; a lo-flow toilet is not saving water if I hafta double-flush it every time.
Or if I hafta pour a bucket of water through it just to get it to swallow.
Lo-flow toilets seem to be the norm any more.
Our new “Toto” toilet is a lo-flow toilet.
Pretty strong for a lo-flow toilet, but it still plugs.
I’ve also noticed I often see a plunger next to a lo-flow toilet.
Didn’t see that years ago.
The plunger was kept in the cellar.
But now it’s right there in the bathroom next to the toilet-brush.
It’s like they expect you’re gonna hafta plunge it.
Did that recently at a bed-and-breakfast near Altoona, PA.
Their lo-flow toilet plugged.
Rather than call in the owner, we plunged that toilet ourselves. —Their plunger was right there.
And so it goes.

Had to cart water the other day to get our lo-flow toilet to swallow.
Not the first time.
Okay, so now the holding-tank no longer holds the quantity of water needed for a flush.
Thereby supposedly saving water; perhaps a gallon or two per day.
I hafta cart the additional water needed in a bucket.
Goodbye water-saving.
If we wanna save water we may hafta go to some other means of ridding ourselves of waste.
Perhaps an outhouse in the Back 40.

• “Altoona, PA” (“al-TOON-uh”) is the location of
Horseshoe Curve (the “mighty Curve”), by far the BEST railfan spot I have ever been to. Horseshoe Curve is now 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. —I’ve been there hundreds of times, since it’s only about five hours away.) —The bed-and-breakfast is in nearby Gallitzin (“guh-LITT-zin”) where the railroad tunnels under the ridgetop. It’s called Tunnel Inn. It was built by the railroad in 1905, and used to be the Gallitzin town offices/library. The Gallitzin town offices/library moved to a new building, and the original building was restored as a bed-and-breakfast.

Sounds plausible.......

“Washington was afraid we’d go with the Teamsters.”
An opinion of why Local 282, the Rochester division of the nationwide Amalgamated Transit Union (“What’s ‘ATU?’”) had been “trusteed.”
For 16&1/2 years I drove transit bus for Regional Transit Service in Rochester, NY; where Local 282 was my bus-union. I belonged to Local 282.
“Trusteed” means our union has been taken over by ATU headquarters in Washington, DC, and our local union officials thrown out.
As a retiree, I’m not involved in day-to-day operations of our union versus my old employer.
In fact, while still employed, it seemed possible to work independent of our union — that -a) the union got us a good pay rate and benefits, and -b) it interceded for naughties, which I wasn’t.
I wasn’t working out of a union hall.
I’d report to the Company each morning, then go my way.
Once-in-a-while I got called on-the-carpet, but never felt compelled to involve the union.
My sins were minor, more management being a nuisance — exercising its cajones.
I was one of their most valued employees, primarily because I followed the three basic rules of bus-driving: -1) show up; -2) don’t hit anything, and -3) keepyour hands outta the farebox.
“Ya know Bob, I think you’re right,” a manager once told me.
But I didn’t feel the Union was a waste.
My pay and benefits were what they were because of that Union.
But Local 282 wasn’t much of a union; most members were always badmouthing it.
There wasn’t much support; just the mechanics. The mechanics were on-the-Property all day; bus-drivers were far afield driving bus.
I started a voluntary union newsletter, the infamous “282-News.”
As such I got to see how intransigent management was; fatcats collecting bloated salaries.
They refused to accept that we union-members were instrumental to their fat incomes. If anything went wrong, it was always the union’s fault.
I guess things have gotten worse since I retired.
I retired in late 1993; a disability retirement caused by my stroke.
Transit is on its third head-honcho since I retired, and he’s reportedly even more intransigent and obfuscatory then when I was there.
The current head-honcho is a media-heavy, obsessed with cultivating favorable public relations.
Transit keeps operating seemingly independent of his ministrations, providing pretty much the same service as when I was there.
Service which says the bus can take ya downtown, but forget the south.
Interviewing for a single job down there, without a car, is an all-day endeavor.
Service out there is rudimentary; there are no established bus-corridors in place.
And like-it-not, all buses to the south hit MarketPlace Mall, since that’s where the fares are. —Except Park-and-Rides, carting suburban stiffs to-and-from work in downtown Rochester.
We also got to cart the halt, the maim, those that cannot otherwise drive cars.
E.g. those with their driver’s-license suspended due to a driving-while-intoxicated conviction.
Such a person felt all society was arrayed against them, so challenged the bus-driver.
If things got outta hand, we’d radio for help, but Transit was no help.
If we called in the cops, a Transit Supervisor also showed up and told everyone it was our fault.
He’d try to placate everyone so you could keep driving the miscreant.
They were not about to throw off a threat to your safety.
At first the trusteeship was supposedly because our union didn’t comply with the ATU constitution.
We had two full-time paid union officers. We were only supposed to have one.
(A bylaw change rectified that.)
Two full-time union officers were costly. There was concern our union’s finances were becoming insolvent.
Beyond that, we had not been able to hammer out a renewed contract with our Company for over three years.
The implication was our union officials were incompetent and lazy, but in my humble opinion, this is as much the Company as the Union.
The Company was stonewalling, hoping the union-membership would eventually get antsy.
They did, calling ATU headquarters in Washington DC to complain.
Beyond that, a HUGE stack of grievances was piling up; over 350+. All would have to be arbitrated.
Arbitration is to present the facts of a dispute before an impartial arbitrator agreed to by both parties — he/she settles the dispute.
Arbitrations were being scheduled out to 2016.
Every arbitration costs about $6,000; lawyers, etc.
Multiply that by 350 and you have a fortune. —The Company was bankrupting our Union.
Washington’s solution was to pretty much give the Company what it wanted. Throw out most of the arbitrations, and settle a contract pretty much on the Company’s terms.
Nothing new; I still have a pack of grievances in my desk-drawer from 1993. Nothing ever came of them.
Our union’s Executive-Board was not included in contract negotiations; in fact, it didn’t even get to consider interest-arbitration.
Interest-arbitration is to consider a fact-finder’s report which would be presented in front of an impartial arbitrator agreed to by both parties.
As public-employees in New York state, we couldn’t strike.
The arbitrator would then dictate a contract.
But the membership was antsy. They decided to call Washington headquarters, who took over and gave the Company what it wanted.
By so doing, our membership shot themselves in the foot.
Our two local union officials are somewhat to blame, for not being able to get the Company to treat with the Union.
The union-president retired and seems to have disappeared.
The Business-Agent goes back to driving bus, after over 20 years.
Top of the seniority list.
To my mind they were both horrible bus-drivers; more union than inspired to get the job done.
My passengers loved me; I was running on time no matter what.
It was a reflection of my having once been a bus-passenger myself.
I certainly changed off plenty of unsafe buses, but I remember driving one with no rear brakes. All it had was front brakes which skidded on the ice. What rear brakes I had were the flyoff parking-brake handle.
Okay, trusteeship over, a new Local 282 president gets installed.
I doubt it makes any difference — except the Company got what it wanted.
Union-members are always badmouthing union officials.
282 is always reprehensible.
The Company is taking advantage of that.
Justification for trusteeing our union is now “malfeasance and malpractice” of our local union officials.
I don’t think those guys were that bad. Perhaps more inclined to mouth off instead of pursue things. But that’s how bus-drivers are.
The glut of arbitrations is as much the Company as the Union — more so.
The guy from Washington, International Vice-President Gary Rauen (“ROW-in;” as in “wow”) gave an example of what he felt was a silly arbitration; an arbitration where a bus-driver was fired for using his cellphone while driving bus.
“Cellphone use while driving is illegal in this state,” Rauen bellowed.
Well excuse me, but as I recall the reason we voted to arbitrate was not cellphone use. It was the Company not following agreed-to disciplinary policy.
Following is an OCR scan of a blurb about our union that appeared in the ATU’s nationwide house-organ “In-Transit.” I guess it’s a report to an ATU convention. I include it because it reminds me of Politburo drivel in Russia:
“REPORT ON LOCAL 282 FINANCES
International Vice President Rauen advised the Board that he and International Representative Gary Johnson Sr., had recently provided a full report on the worsening financial condition of Local 282 (Rochester, NY) which was well received by the rank-and-file
(rank-and-vile?) membership.
A set of recommended bylaw amendments are slated to restructure the local union’s governance by assigning all business agent duties to the president, making the financial secretary post a part-time position, cutting the number of executive board members, reducing total officer compensation, and otherwise cutting routine expenses.
It was further reported that a plan has been developed to address a considerable backlog of grievance cases pending arbitration through improved labor management relations and to otherwise resolve long-outstanding issues in collective bargaining.”

Of interest to me is that the next ATU convention takes place at DisneyWorld in Orlando, FL; the Land of Make-Believe.

• “What’s ‘ah-two?’” is something my mother asked seeing my ATU (Amalgamated Transit Union) button.
• I had a stroke October 26, 1993.
• “MarketPlace Mall” is a very large shopping-mall south of Rochester, probably the largest in the area.
• A “change-off” was replacement of a defective bus with a good one.
• “International” because ATU represents in both the U.S. and Canada.
• “OCR scan” is an optical-character-recognition scan; a scan whereby the computer recognizes the letters in a scan, and creates a text-file.

Labels:

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

Dana’s 4-8-4

Yesterday (Tuesday, February 17, 2010) I visited my old friend Art Dana (“DAY-nuh”).
Art is the retired bus-driver with fairly severe Parkinson’s Disease.
For 16&1/2 years I drove transit bus for Regional Transit Service in Rochester, NY, the supplier of transit-bus service in Rochester and the surrounding counties.
My stroke October 26, 1993 ended it.
Dana was slightly ahead of me in seniority, and was a mentor of sorts. His outlook on the job, go-with-the-flow, became mine.
Dana and I have similar enthusiasms; hot-rods, trains, model airplanes.
Dana’s wife died, and he no longer drives much.
Even though only 69, the Parkinson’s has him weak and frail.
He’s no longer the Dana I knew, but the old orneriness is still there.
Despite frailty, he’s set up an HO-scale running track in his basement. He’s a model train buff.
I’m not, but interested in what he has.
He dragged out some special controller that supposedly mimics real train operation.
You hit a “brake” button, and the train slowly stops, then slowly restarts after releasing the “brake” button.
It’s fairly accurate, more so than average model-train operation, which has trains suddenly slamming to a stop from 150+ scale mph, and restarting like fuel dragsters.
First we had to hook it up to the track.
“How’s your eyesight, Bob?” he asked.
I try to not butt in — let him try things himself.
But the Parkinson’s was intervening.
I ended up hooking it up myself.
—Which makes it possible for him to run his model-trains.
We put a red Canadian Pacific F-unit on the track, and tried it. No train; just the locomotive.
Hit the “brake” and it slowed to a stop.
Release the “brake” button and it would slowly restart.
Motor and headlight energized, and finally movement.
More sudden and jerky than reality, but close.
Art then produced a steam-engine model he had, a Union Pacific 4-8-4.
I looked at it, but it didn’t appear to be the actual Union Pacific 4-8-4.
It appeared to be the same boiler-casting (plastic) as his Santa Fe 4-8-4, which appears to be the actual Santa Fe 4-8-4.
“150 smackaroos,” Art said.
Well, an actual model of Union Pacific’s 4-8-4 might cost thousands, and his plastic Santa Fe 4-8-4 looks pretty good.
We set about trying to put this thing on the track.
“Too many wheels,” I said.
Art was fumble-fingered, and I had to figure out the drill; which is first the lead and trailing trucks, and then the drivers.
The tender for Art’s Santa Fe 4-8-4 uses the same hookup to the locomotive the Union Pacific 4-8-4 uses; a metal tongue with a hole in it.
A pin on the locomotive slides down through the hole; thereby dragging the tender with it.
No sign of the UP tender, so Art hooked the Santa Fe tender to the UP locomotive.
Getting that pin down through the hole meant lifting the whole kabosh up off the track, in which case we had to put everything back on.
“It’s on Art; give it the juice,” I said.
Around-and-around it went, flashing side-rods and a complete valve-gear and lubricators.
“That $150 is in them side-rods, Art. That boiler-casting probably cost them only pennies, but them side-rods and valve-gear look authentic,” I said.
“We gotta hope that stuff stays together. We could never reassemble it; not us old guys.
So do I take them wires off that track?”
“No Hughsey; I sit here and watch that thing for hours. Around-and-around it goes.”
It’s kinda sad. He’ll never be able to build a layout like he once had, but he can keep running model-trains.

• An “F-unit” is the first freight railroad locomotive manufactured by ElectroMotive Division (EMD) of General Motors. It used a large two-stroke V16 diesel engine. There were quite a few versions over the years; first being the FT in 1939 at 1,350 horsepower. Others were F2, F3, F7, and F9. Art’s appeared to be an F3. —They were very successful, mainly because they were reliable. Many railroads dieselized with F-units. But they were cab units, so vision rearward was poor. Road-switchers became more common, since they have excellant vision in either direction. But most “road-switchers” nowadays are built by General-Electric. EMD is in eclipse.

Labels:

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

Pennsy’s Allegheny Crossing in snow


Amtrak eastbound at Fostoria.

Four hours 37 minutes portal-to-portal.
That’s our garage to Tunnel Inn.
The trip was record short.
West Bloomfield to Gallitzin (“guh-LITT-zin”) usually takes about five hours.
No snow to speak of. All dry pavement and sunshine.
The infamous Steam Valley segment has been finally reengineered.
“Steam Valley” because the elevation is high enough to be in the misty clouds.
The northbound lanes, on the eastern side of the narrow valley, are late ‘60s, Interstate standards.
The southbound lanes, on the western side of the valley, were the old road, not up to Interstate standard.
Two lanes, but narrow and curving. —Some curves were posted for 45 mph.
Worst of all was the hillcrest, a blind left curve at the top, with gas-stations and a restaurant to the right.
You always had to do it in the passing lane, lest someone slow in front of you to access the gas-stations.
The passing lane was a blind curve left.
But last Fall they were working on bypassing the gas-stations.
And putting in new southbound lanes up to Interstate standard.
It’s open. Saves maybe five minutes, and extreme fright and intimidation.
“I guess the Steam Valley segment is finally open,” I said as we cruised through it.
No gas-stations, no blind curves.
We were up on the hillside. The old road, retired, was far below. Mostly it was filled over.
Linda was doing hand-finished quilting.
“This is really great,” she said. “At last I get to use all my scraps. No waste.
I just cut these scraps into hexagons.”
“In which case you’re left with scraps,” I said.
“So I cut the remaining scraps into smaller hexagons, and quilt them.”
“I which case you’re left with more scraps,” I said.
“So tiny I just throw ‘em out.”
“Cluttering the landfill,” I said.
Some people appreciate this kind of sick humor, but most don’t.
Thankfully I’m married to one who does.
No snow driving down, but it was obvious the Altoona area had been clobbered.
Gallitzin was even worse; Tunnel Inn was buried. The owner, Mike Kraynyak (“krane-YAK”) was trying to clean out.
His first challenge was blowing out his tiny parking-lot, with a snowblower.
The snow was at least two feet deep, maybe three feet. And heavy.
Some sort of mixup was in play. We thought we had been confirmed for the “MO Tower” suite, “MO Tower” being a lineside tower on the old Pennsy main across Pennsylvania now operated by Norfolk Southern.
The letters “MO” are telegraph code.
The tower may even still exist; at least “MO” is a crossover interlocking.
We even had a confirmation postcard.
But apparently it was sent before Mike had received our check; which he got at his Gallitzin post-office box the day before we arrived.
So he was never clear we were coming.
(Mike doesn’t live in Gallitzin.)
He had three suites not reserved. Two were two twin-beds each, and one was the Handicap suite downstairs. It had two queen-size beds.
I told him I preferred a Queen-size bed, but only the same rate as MO.
“Oh no problem,” he said.
Perhaps my train-calendar made the difference.
I had sent him one with my check.
Blew him away, as it did me, and many others.
“You should share that thing with others,” he said. “Maybe you could print me 100 or so, and I’d sell ‘em to patrons.
There’s so much crap around,” he observed.
“Yeah, I know,” I said. “I’ve sent some back.”
He’s thinking $10-$12 per calendar, but I don’t think Kodak can do it that low.
A single calendar costs me $19.95. Kodak discounts for quantity.
But probably not that low.
And to me, the fact my calendar is Kodak makes it a class act.
I don’t want to compromise.
“I’m not much of a businessman,” I said to Linda later. “If I knew that thing was in such high demand, I’d charge for it.”
After setting up camp, we set out for Horseshoe Curve, closed until April.
The parking-lot was unplowed, and a giant four-foot snow-berm was blocking the entrance.
We parked along the road, and I promptly sunk hip-deep in a snowdrift.
I had to unhand my camera, and fall over into the snow to escape.
Much as I wanted to reproduce my calendar cover-shot in snow, Horseshoe Curve was out.
It was probably three feet deep on the sidewalks, and the 194 steps up to the viewing-area were nearly obliterated.
Just climbing up there looked impossible, and we couldn’t even get in.
Next I drove to Brickyard Crossing.
Called that because a brickyard facility was nearby — the streetname is something else.
The parking area was under three feet of snow, so there was no place to park. Someone had tried to park there, and got stuck.
The embankment I liked to shoot from was under at least two feet of snow, another impossibility.
We gave up, turned around, and drove down to the infamous spaghetti-joint, Lena’s Cafè.
First supper out is always Lena’s; spaghetti with homemade marinara sauce and one meatball. Any more is too much.
We were back to Tunnel Inn by 6:15, so watched the TV-News.
Phil Faudi (“FOW-dee;” as in “wow”) arrived the next morning by 7:45 a.m. to begin chasing trains by 8.
Faudi is the railfan extraordinaire from Altoona, PA, who supplies all-day train-chases for $125 (I’ve done two). —I did one two years ago, alone, and it blew my mind.
Railfan overload.
Did it on a Monday; worst day of the week. 20 trains.
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 lineside defect-detectors fire off.
He knows each train by symbol, and 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.
“We don’t know how you can do this,” we said. “There is so much snow things look impossible.”
“The Curve is out, Brickyard is out, and my best photo in that calendar, Cassandra Railfan Overlook, is probably out too,” I said.
“Bridges are out too,” Faudi said. “Too much snow blocking the shooting areas, and the plow-berms might be so high they block photography.
Curved track might be out too. The only places I can think of we might get to are all tangent (straight) track.”
Off we went to Rose, where the railroad changes crews.
It’s east (north) of Altoona, but includes many running tracks, an inheritance of the old Pennsy.
A reprise of a vertical in my calendar, but better because of the snow.


Crew-change at Rose.

Somebody had snowblown a deep channel where the sidewalk was supposed to be but I had to sit down in it to avoid wires.
We then drove up to Fostoria Crossing, location of a six-target signal bridge.


Westbound at Fostoria.

The train is on Track Two, westbound. Track One is eastbound, and next to it is a siding.
All tracks can be run either way, which is why there are six signals; targets.
A signal for each track, either direction; two signals per track.
After that we drove up to Tyrone (“tie-RONE”), where the railroad turns east through a notch.


Westbound at Tyrone, past the old station.

Tyrone is an old Pennsy station; visible in the picture.
Tyrone is also a junction with the old Pennsy Bald Eagle branch up Bald Eagle valley toward Williamsport.
The branch is now a shortline, but I think Norfolk Southern has trackage-rights. It’s built to the hilt, and I saw an NS coal train on it once. It appeared to be a unit-train for a power-station.
We also went to Plummer’s Crossing, a very rural road-crossing not far east of Tyrone.
It was the only place Faudi’s car couldn’t negotiate; a front-wheel-drive Buick. It spun its drive-wheels trying to climb the hump to the tracks, so we gave up and backed down.
Such a hump needed All-Wheel-Drive — our Honda CR-V, the car we drove down in, is All-Wheel-Drive.
We then returned to Gallitzin, and didn’t try accessing the eastern portals of the tunnels. The dirt-track was plowed, but would have needed a Jeep.
My brother Jack from Boston, the overconfident blowhard who noisily badmouths everything I do or say, would have tried it, and promptly got stuck.
We had taken along our coal-shovel, and Faudi had his own shovel, but we never got stuck.
But of course, we were avoiding the impossible.
After a short break at Tunnel Inn to recharge my camera, which may have been left on all night, we headed west on the Western Slope, first to Cresson (“KRESS-in”).
At Cresson we accessed their railfan platform, a place I usually avoid because it’s too sunny with a poor view.


Eastbound at Cresson, snow flying.

Cresson is where the railroad services its helper-sets, and you can see that facility across the tracks from the viewing platform.
The train pictured is eastbound, up The Hill, on Track One, kicking up a trail of snow.
Smashingly successful, at a place I usually avoid, because of all that blowing snow. The only thing wrong with that picture is that evergreen to the left.


Eastbound at Portage, on Track One.

Farther west we stopped at Portage, and set up inside a running track to a coal tipple. It isn’t a mainline track, but near the switch from the mainline.
Clambering up to it, over snow-berms, was a struggle, mostly on hands-and-knees. That way I wasn’t sinking hip-deep in snow.
Looking at it, I wondered if it’s the original Pennsy alignment prior to realignment bypassing Cassandra — a straighter approach to the summit.
We then went down to Summerhill, and shot the westbound trash-train coming under the signal-bridge in a snow-squall.
The trash-train is a daily occurrence; carrying trash in purple containers. Westbound loaded, eastbound empty.


Westbound trash-train at Summerhill, on Track Three.

As you can see, the signal lights are on. They always are with these signals.
It’s shot from an overpass, but the snowbanks were low enough I could shoot over them.
The two targets looking west are up high to be visible to eastbound train crews over the overpass.
We then drove up to Lilly, where I once caught a double with Faudi off a highway overpass.
A double is two trains in the same shot.
Instead of that overpass, we went down to the west end of a street paralleling the railroad.
I’ve always wanted to try it, but had to climb an eight-foot snowpile to do it.
Poor footing merges with poor balance and weakness getting up.
I slipped and tumbled head-over-heels down the snowpile.
“Oh Bob, are you all right?” Faudi cried.
“Of course,” I said, and got back up.
“I’m gettin’ that picture no matter what!”
Back up on the snowpile, a berm left by a plow.
These falls always look more dramatic than they really are. I always end up on my back.
“Wanna go back to that overpass?” Faudi asked.
“Absolutely not,” I said. “I prefer this place, and we’ve never shot here.”
—I got the shot (pictured below); my best picture. The sun had parted the scudding clouds.


My best shot, eastbound stacker up The Hill on Track One at Lilly.

By then our light was fading, but off to Brickyard.
Faudi parked next to a gate, which was locked shut, and it was Saturday. “Nobody’s workin’ here today.”
I hiked a short distance up to trackside, well clear of the tracks, and crossing gates.
It was the Faudi wisdom at work. Good shots at plowed out railroad crossings, often from snowpiles. The usual shooting locations were snowed under.


Almost sundown. (The ethanol train; all tankcars except the buffer-cars at each end.)

Waited about 5-10 minutes, then WHAM, the westbound ethanol train up on Track Three; one of many trains running late due to various maladies, like snow blocking the grade-crossings. You have to hope a heavy locomotive wouldn’t derail at an ice-clogged road crossing. It’s happened.
We would miss nearly all the delayed trains due to fading light. Which of course drove poor Faudi nuts. “In June we’d get ‘em all.”
They started going by after we returned to Tunnel Inn; 5-6 trains running late.
One track was blocked by a train crippled by a frozen airline.


Shovels are coming!” Amtrak’s westbound Pennsylvanian on Track One in the Altoona station.

Our final drama was Amtrak’s westbound “Pennsylvanian,” into Altoona station on Track One because Two was out of service.
Track One isn’t the station platform, and was separated by an unshoveled snowpile.
Passengers couldn’t detrain because of that unshoveled snowpile, and the station didn’t have any shovels.
Angry banter ensued on the radio: “Cancha just back us onto Track Two next to the station so these passengers could at least get off?” the train conductor asked.
Finally, “shovels are coming.” Perhaps the stationmaster had gone to a nearby hardware.
“This makes Amtrak look very bad,” Faudi said.
“And our national leaders wanna put in ‘Fast-rail,’” Linda said.
“Just dump ‘em in the snowpile,” she said. “Just like railroad mail-sacks from long ago. Wheelchair and all; on-the-fly!”

Back to reality!
....and our beloved dog.
Four hours, 45 minutes. A Curve trip is becoming a yo-yo.
Two widdle stops, one the Williamsport Weggers, and the second a roadside state rest-facility north of Bath.
The sky looked ominous as we started out, and roads were snow-covered.
But about 10 miles north of Altoona, all become dry.
Gallitzin is like running the rapids in Grand Canyon.
Most streets are very narrow, many only one lane wide.
Many are one-way, but some aren’t.
Streets were plowed, but lined with 8-12 foot high snow berms. —Which narrows the street.
If anyone dared approach on a two-way street, someone had to get off — driveway, etc.
Kraynyak did well to clear his parking-lot with a snowblower — a plow woulda reduced it by half. It only holds about four cars; the Inn’s capacity.
The worst thing about these forays is boarding our dog.
It’s a really nice place with wonderful people, but our dog has become extremely attached.
I walked the dog into her chicken-wire boarding kennel, and then walked back out leaving the dog inside.
I was greeted by a whimpering dog: “Hey, what’s the big idea? I’m in here, and you’re out there. WHIMPER!”
“Back to reality” because:
—1) As a stroke-survivor things are rather messy.
Compromised balance, and a tendency to drop things.
On a trip it can’t happen much, but at home it does.
—2) I was greeted by the usual madness at home.
We plugged our TV back in, and it smoked.
Sound, but no picture.
The videotape Faudi gave me couldn’t be played.
I can play it, but no picture.
Our TV is an old CRT screen, not a flat-screen; about 7-10 years old, or even older.
Looks like it will hafta be replaced.
But not by much.
TV is not a priority in our house, not with ‘pyooters to entertain.
Our ‘pyooters are where the money is, although my display isn’t very large.
Too big it’s not entirely viewable two feet from the screen.


The view at Rose from the 8th-St. bridge. (The train at right has had its crew changed, and will soon restart.)


This thing better not derail. (Yrs Trly atop the snowbank at Lilly.)

• All photos by BobbaLew (except the last, which is by my wife).
• “Weggers” is Wegmans, a large supermarket-chain based in Rochester we often buy groceries at. They have a store in Williamsport.
• I had a stroke October 26, 1993.

Labels: ,

Thursday, February 11, 2010

First encounter.....

.....with the vaunted Associated Press news feed.
I don’t know how accurate this is, since it’s based on a dream.
I walk into a room full of computers.
It reminds of the De Land Public Library, where we went long ago when we visited my wife’s 94-year-old mother in a retirement center in De Land, FL.
To fulfill our ‘pyooter-jones. It’s hard to break free of the Internet.
Computers are in small booths along a wall. You drive ‘em from tall barstools.
They’re PCs, not MACs, like I’m driving now.
But I certainly have driven enough PCs in my time, although they can be irksome.
“All I need is a Windoze PC with Internet-Explorer,” I say, even though my Internet browser is FireFox®, and Internet-Explorer mucks things up.
In most cases a Windoze PC with Internet-Explorer is adequate to check e-mail, or print off airline boarding passes.
You frequently find such rigs in libraries.
Ask it to post pictures to a blog, and Internet-Explorer makes a mess. —Often it won’t even do it.
I take a seat.
It’s the Associated Press news feed.
I navigate through Windoze, and am presented with a ‘pyooter-menu of various AP new feeds.
I pick sports — that’s about as far as my dream went.
I got inundated with a surfeit of copy: Bills defunct, Tiger Woods scandalized, tennis hissy-fits, blood on the ice-hockey rink, the Tour de France. (“Peddle-peddle-peddle-peddle. Are they done yet?”)
Memories of production at the mighty Mezz.
A surfeit of news would tumble over the “wires.”
Weed though it, and whatever fits, prints.
As if we had time for furtive meetings to advance our so-called “liberal agenda.”

• “‘Pyooter” is computer.
• “Windoze” is Microsoft Windows®. Apple Macintosh users badmouth it as inferior; but I don’t think it is. A Macintosh superiority gig.
• The “mighty Mezz” is the Canandaigua Daily-Messenger newspaper, from where I retired over four years ago. Best job I ever had. (“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.)

Sunday, February 07, 2010

Night Photography



My Fall 2009 issue of the National Railway Historical Society bulletin, a magazine which arrived the other day, has an interesting proposition, that railroad museums can provide excellant photography.
An example, above, was on their cover.
Good old Pennsylvania Railroad M1b Mountain (4-8-2) steam locomotive #6755.
The only Mountain the railroad didn’t scrap.
It was added to their collection of significant retired steam locomotives, which eventually found its way to the Railroad Museum of Pennsylvania across from Strasburg tourist railroad near Strasburg, PA.
It’s good to see one of those gorgeous red keystone number-plates again, centered on the smokebox door.
I saw plenty when I was a kid.
You could see them from afar, and they signaled a great-looking Pennsy steam engine was coming.
My contact with steam locomotives was the Pennsylvania-Reading Seashore Lines (PRSL; “RED-ing,” not “READ-ing”) in south Jersey, a 1933 amalgamation of south Jersey seashore lines to rationalize too much track.
PRSL also used Reading steam engines, but they were ugly compared to Pennsy.
So I always looked for that red keystone.

NIGHT PHOTOGRAPHY

Models were added to make a fair approximation of what you’d see at an engine terminal.
Railroad men contemplating 6755.
Nice, but 6755 is obviously dead.
Its headlight is out, and there are no whisps of steam.
What really throws me off is the lack of boiler-jacketing behind the smokebox.
Boiler rivets glimmer.
It looks like the walkway has been removed too.
I bet the valvegear is gone too.
Union Pacific Big Boy #4012 (4-8-8-4; the biggest steam locomotive ever built), on static display at Steamtown in Scranton (PA), is impressive.
But it’s valve-gear is gone; replaced by tinny bar-stock and stampings, clearly not the real thing.
Not the elegant forgings that comprised steam locomotive valve-gear.
Moving a retired steam locomotive with its valve-gear intact was an invitation to disaster.
It could jam.
Often even the side-rods between drivers were removed, so the wheels could turn freely.
They’d go out of synch.
The crank-pins on one wheelset might be at 12 o’clock, and on the following wheelset it might end up at 5 o’clock.
It’s a nice shot, but all it does is leave me hoping that 6755 can be restored to operation.
The M1b was one of Pennsy’s most successful steam locomotives, although its drivers were too small to be a passenger locomotive. Only 72 inches.
The K4 Pacific (4-6-2) was 80 inches, as was the E6 Atlantic (4-4-2).
80-inch drivers were almost required to be a successful passenger locomotive. A New York Central Hudson (4-6-4) was 79 inches.
72 inches is six feet. 80-inch drivers are taller than a man.
Some locomotives even had 84 inch drivers; that’s seven feet.
84 is 100 mph; although an E6 could do 100 with 80-inch drivers.
And a Norfolk & Western’s J (4-8-4) could do it with 70-inch — although it had roller-bearings in the side-rod pins and the drive-axles.


Another picture taken at Railroad Museum of Pennylvania. (This a GG1 [“Gee-Gee-One”], the greatest railroad locomotive ever made.) (Photo by Tom Hughes.)

• I am a railfan, and have been since I was a child; and I’ve been to both Strasburg and Steamtown.
• As a child I lived in south Jersey until I was almost 14.
• “Tom Hughes” is my brother-from-Delaware’s only son Tom. He recently graduated college as a computer-engineer. Like me he’s a railfan.

Labels:

Saturday, February 06, 2010

Age 66

Yesterday (Friday, February 5, 2010) yrs trly had the pleasure of cranking age 66 into the cardiovascular trainers at the Canandaigua YMCA instead of age 65.
Much like like one year ago when I switched from 64 to 65.
I suppose I should thank my lucky stars, although I don’t think it’s all that.
There are certain things I eat — or don’t eat. Plus I work out at the YMCA.
I don’t smoke, don’t drink, hardly ever eat red meat, and don’t drink soda-pop.
What I eat is fish, and what I drink is water.
I also don’t eat eggs; Egg-Beaters®.
I don’t use salt, and hardly ever eat anything with sugar.
Clean living, more-or-less.
I only need one prescription, instead of 89 bazilyun.
A trainer at the YMCA, who I value, comments she’s having trouble with her knees. She also has trouble with her back. She’s in her 40s.
I’ve been tempted to say something, but haven’t.
I take a fish-oil supplement, 720 mg per day.
A giant horse-pill my wife couldn’t swallow.
Don’t know as it makes any difference, but I think my 66 year old knees are gonna let me run another year.
A report was on the TV-news about how fish-oil lubricates your joints.
Well, I don’t know, but perhaps it’s making a difference.
I had a stroke, but that was over 16 years ago.
And that was more a heart problem, which was fixed.
I have to nap almost every day, but that has been the case ever since the stroke.
The old brain, what remains of it, fags out.
Who knows what they’d find if they CAT-scanned me.
Various medical assays have been performed; stress-tests, a colonoscopy, a skin assay.
But right now I feel all right.

• I work out in the Canandaigua YMCA exercise-gym. (“Canandaigua” [“cannon-DAY-gwuh”] is a small city to the east 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.) —Cardiovascular trainers are treadmills, exercise bicycles, etc. They exercise the heart.
• My wife of 42 years is “Linda.” Like me she’s retired.
• I had a stroke October 26, 1993; caused by a heart-defect, an atrial septal defect, a patent foramen ovale (PFO). This flaw passed a clot to my brain.

Friday, February 05, 2010

Get it right, gentlemen

Yesterday (Thursday, February 4, 2010) I had a wisdom-tooth root fragment removed by good old Q-Dental.
That root fragment has probably been in my mouth almost 40 years.
It goes back to when my wisdom-teeth were removed by a previous dentist about 1970.
They were impacted, so were a struggle.
The dentist removed one side at first — the left side — and it was such a struggle one broke.
Which happened to make it easier to extract.
So a few weeks later with the other teeth I told him to break them if he needed to.
And so he did; and so remained that root fragment on my right side at the top.
It apparently healed over, so I wasn’t aware of it.
But with gum recession the top of it was exposed, a jagged edge.
My dentist claimed it was jaw bone, and I shouldn’t worry about it.
It was no problem, so I didn’t.
I stayed with that dentist almost 40 years.
But my Transit retirees association negotiated reduced pricing with Q-Dental.
It was because our retiree dental coverage at Transit was putrid.
I had to pay HUGE co-pays to stay with my old dentist.
So I considered switching.
My previous dentist was a long drive into Rochester. Q-Dental was closer.
I was also troubled that my old dentist refused to invest in new technology.
His receptionist used a typewriter (ding).
I was dumfounded. I hadn’t seen such a thing in years.
My old dentist was loathe to computerize. He still used hand-entered billing on ledger-cards.
So I switched. After all, Q-Dental reduced my dental co-pays about 25 percent.
The first thing Q-Dental did was X-ray my teeth.
“Digital,” I said. “Hooray. The new century at last. I’ve never seen one of those things.”
My dental X-ray was viewable on a ‘pyooter monitor. Even I could see it.
No more secretive mumbo-jumbo.
“That’s not jaw bone,” the Q-Dental dentist said. “That’s a root fragment.”
He recommended extracting it. (Ka-ching, ka-ching!)
I put him off.
It wasn’t bothering.
But I finally decided to extract it. Better to do it at age 66 than in my 80s.
It was inconsequential; only about a quarter-inch long.
I was expecting much longer, and a possible struggle.
“Doin’ okay?” he asked, as he pulled it out.
“I don’t feel a thing except that sucker in my mouth.”
Fragment extracted, he inserted a piece of gauze.
“Now bite down on this,” he said.
Chomp!
I kept the gauze in a while, and didn’t eat anything.
But it was so inconsequential I probably won’t bother with it.
Special considerations for a while; e.g. no mouthwash, and chew only on the other side.
The best part was the prep.
“What are we doing here?” a nurse said. “A full tooth extraction?”
WHOA! I hear that, and diplomacy and tact are out.
“Just a root fragment, guys. You’re not pulling a whole tooth.”
As ABC TV-news anchor Frank Reynolds used to say: “Get it right, gentlemen.”

• For 16&1/2 years (1977-1993) I drove transit bus for Regional Transit Service, the transit-bus operator in Rochester, NY. My stroke October 26, 1993 ended that.
• “‘Pyooter” is computer.

Thursday, February 04, 2010

Trusteed!

Local 282 has been trusteed.
“Trusteed” means officials from headquarters have taken over our union, and thrown out our local union officers.
Local 282 is the Rochester Division of the nationwide Amalgamated Transit Union (“what’s ‘ATU?’”), and represents union employees of Regional Transit Service.
That’s bus-drivers, mechanics, and a few others.
282 also represents other transit operations; mainly an affiliated para-transit, and an unaffiliated transit operation in a county not part of the Rochester Genesee Regional Transportation Authority (RGRTA).
Regional Transit is my old employer in Rochester, NY, where I drove transit bus 16&1/2 years (1977-1993). My stroke ended it.
I was a member of Local 282.
An informational meeting was held last night (Wednesday, February 3, 2010) supposedly to inform members why our union had been trusteed, and what was happening.
About 50-60 were there — not that good, but better than 10.
Why our union had been trusteed was not specifically clarified — at least not in agreement with the apparent reasons.
The original threat of trusteeship was because our union was not in compliance with the ATU constitution.
We had two full-time paid union officers; the constitution said we should only have one.
Bylaw changes were floated a few months ago to implement this, but they were voted down.
At the last regular monthly business meeting more bylaw changes were presented to implement those same changes, and were approved.
I suppose that scotched the original justification for trusteeing us, so the justification became “malfeasance and malpractice” of our union officers in financial matters.
Seems there was a more underlying cause: the fact nothing was happening.
But as far as I can see, this is also a function of our Company’s attitude, which was to deny everything, and force us to arbitrate, which bankrupts the union.
As a result, a HUGE stack of arbitrations had built up; at least 350.
So many they were being scheduled out to 2016.
“That’s ridiculous,” Washington said. “That only gives them more reason to deny.”
So now the justification is “malfeasance and malpractice.”
But as far as I can see, it’s the fact we are at seeming impasse.
Plus every arbitration costs around $6,000. Multiply that by 350+ and you have a fortune.
“Malfeasance and malpractice,” they said. Much like paying two full-time union officers instead of one.
The trustees are union vice-president Gary Rauen (“ROH-in”) from Washington, DC, and union vice-president Joe Welch from Syracuse.
“I’d like to set a few ground rules,” Rauen said as he started the meeting.
“Any yelling and screaming, and I’m leaving.”
“Ugh,” I thought to myself. “No blog material.”
He detailed why 282 had been trusteed, in his opinion.
It seemed couched in those 350+ arbitrations.
Plus our contract with Transit was at impasse after three years.
Only with his input was a contract settled.
He then entertained questions; but “no screaming please.”
“You mean to tell me the input of our union Executive Board was silly?” asked my old friend Bob Ross.
“We recommended every one of those arbitrations, and our membership approved.” (Maybe 15-20 per vote.)
“Yeah, but every nickel-and-dime issue isn’t worth $6,000 each. What I want is one arbitration that settles maybe 20.”
My old friend Roland Melvin sat down behind me.
“Still at it?” I asked.
“So where are ya now on the Seniority List?” I whispered.
Eight from the top,” he answered.
It’s amazing to think if I were still driving bus, I’d be almost to the top of the Seniority List.
Roland is one class after me.
But my stroke ended it; well short of Roland.
“Management says ya can’t wear a Yankees hat. We shouldn’t arbitrate that,” Rauen said.
I glanced at Roland, who was wearing his Washington Redskins hat.
“I don’t drive bus with this hat,” he said.
“Nor should we be arbitrating cellphone use,” said Rauen.
“Cellphone use while driving is against the law in this state, yet here I got a bus-driver yammering on his cellphone while driving bus with passengers at 50 mph through a construction zone.”
As far as I know we approved arbitration on the fact the Company did not follow disciplinary procedure; not cellphone use.
The dreaded Ozzie was recognized.
“Here you guys come in and take over our union, and throw out our duly-elected officers,” Ozzie said. “How do I know you’re not up to no-good?”
“Oh, Ozzie,” cried my friend Dominick Zarcone (“zar-CONE”), who just recently resigned in disgust as a union officer, still drives bus, and was in the class behind me.
“Blog material,” I shouted.
“How about that?” Rauen said. “The guy walks out without letting me respond.”
Another blog-material activist was recognized; “I wanna ask about arbitrations.”
“Don’t even go there, Brother,” Rauen butted in. “I can’t discuss specific arbitrations.”
Blog-material started getting strident.
Rauen shut him down.
What’ll it be; pursue the matter further, or Rauen shut down the meeting?
Somewhat cowed, blog-material made his question more general; an answer that had already been given.
My perception is that trusteeship is what is needed to drag our union kicking-and-screaming into the 21st century.
A while ago 282 proposed a computer purchase but it was voted down.
Someone blustered he could get the same stuff from his sister for $400. —About $1,600 worth of equipment.
Part of the deal was to install the vaunted MUMs software from ATU; for which we’d get a rebate or something.
MUMs software tracks every union expense and income.
“At the moment your Business-Agent has to track everything in a book — a project that may take all day,” Rauen said. “Do that with MUMs and it won’t take anywhere near that.”
“So are we getting MUMs?” someone asked.
“Yep,” Rauen said. “Computers too. MUMs installed tomorrow.”
Um, guys; our membership voted that down. So our two union officers walked away. We need a trusteeship to drag us into the new century?
The reason all this is happening is because Mr. Rauen got results, and can therefore break the bank. He got Transit, in its infinite wisdom, to stop stalling and give us a contract.
To my mind that is more negotiating prowess; a prowess our two full-time union officers lack.
At impasse they threw up their hands and walked away. Rauen can negotiate; and parry blowhards.
“So what happens after you leave?” someone asked. “Back to intransigence and impasse? That’s what we’re all worried about.”
“It’s not about me, Brother,” Rauen said. “There’s only one God, and it ain’t me.”
Well, some can move mountains and some can’t.
I don’t think our old officers could move mountains, and doubt there’s anyone in the wings.
My perception is that it took three years to get help from ATU, despite all our asking.
And their response is to flip-flop our union, although I think it needed it.
Meeting ended, Bob Ross came over to greet me.
We shook hands, but as often happens to this old stroke-survivor, my speech-center froze, and I couldn’t say anything.
“Wassa matter?” Ross asked. “How come you’re not saying anything?”
“Sometimes the speech-center freezes, and I can’t get anything out,” I responded sheepishly.
“I understand,” Ross said. “Good to see you!”
“We sure had fun with that newsletter,” I said.
“We sure did.”
“Remember that cartoon we ran of the motor-cradle falling out of the back of a bus?” I said.
“We had all those clowns running for cover,” Ross said. “Politicians were calling to ask what was going on.”
“Stuff like that usually got hush-hushed. Best part was that actually happened,” I said.
Then I was greeted by my friend Dick Bastedo (“bas-TEE-doh”), who like me was one of Transit’s favorite bus-drivers. He’s won the annual local bus-roadeo many times. —Even the nationwide bus-roadeo.
“So whadya think?” Bastedo asked.
“I don’t know,” I said.
“350+ arbitrations is a bit over the top, but that’s as much the Company as the union,” I said.
Bastedo introduced me to another another bus-driver; one I didn’t know, which means he was probably hired after my stroke.
“This is Bob Hughes,” Bastedo said. “He used to do the union newsletter.”
Union vice-president Ray Dunbar (“DONE-bar”) arrived.
“It was him and Dunbar,” Bastedo said.
“Yeah,” I said. “It was Dunbar’s idea, and then we passed ‘em out before work. And then Dunbar would spray them all over the city to local politicians.”
“Some day I’ll bring in the copies I still have, so you can see them,” Bastedo said to his friend.
“You mean to tell me you still have all those silly newsletters?” I asked.
“Of course I do,” Bastedo said. “They were really great.
Best one that ever was had that cartoon depicting road-supervisor Gary Damore (“duh-MORE”) as a bulldog named “Dippity Dawg.”
“Actually that was Frank’s idea (union Business Agent Frank Falzone [“fowl-ZONE]), but I ran with it,” I said.
Bus-driver Vince Arena was being mugged by students at East High School, so the radio called up the nearest road-supervisor to assist, and that was Dippity Dawg, but he was glomming donuts three blocks away at the nearby Mickey D’s.
“‘I’ll get right on it, boss,’ but the import of the cartoon was he’d get on it after he finished his donuts.”
“Made him madder than a hornet,” Bastedo said. “Gary knew he couldn’t do anything.”
“Yeah, we had him royally skonked,” I said.
“So what happened?” his friend asked. “We could still use a newsletter like that.”
“Well, I did have a stroke,” I said. “That finished it.
I think the reason management caved and gave us a contract is partly because they lost their beloved Transit Center,” I said.
“That was (Rochester mayor Bob) Duffy,” Bastedo observed. “Duffy hates Mark Aesch (“Ash;” Transit’s head-honcho). He called him a liar.”

• “What’s ‘ah-two?’” is something my mother asked seeing my ATU (Amalgamated Transit Union) button.
• “The Rochester Genesee Regional Transportation Authority” is a local public authority to supervise transit in the area near Rochester and the Genesee River. It’s public — its employees can’t strike.
• “Bob Hughes” is of course me, “BobbaLew.”
• RE: “Union newsletter....” —During my final year at Transit I did a voluntary union newsletter called the “282-News” that caused weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth among Transit management. It was great fun; and I did it with Microsoft Word — although it required a lot of time.
• A “road-supervisor” was a car-mounted management person to supervise and assist bus-drivers.
• “Mickey D’s” is McDonald’s.
• RE: “Transit Center....” —RGRTA was proposing a Transit Center downtown, affiliated with a downtown campus of a local community college, and a theater for community productions, partly to get bus-loading off the main drag. But it was a massive boondoggle that depended on federal funding. The proposed downtown Transit Center got scotched by Rochester mayor Bob Duffy, because sufficient funding would need to be raised by donation for the theater, and it wasn’t there yet. Scotching it denied Transit manager Mark Aesch of his beloved Transit Center.

Labels:

Monday, February 01, 2010

Monthly Calendar Report for February, 2010

The calendar of my own train-photos is still pretty good, but it’s the weakest shot of the calendar.
Actually, all my calendar-shots are pretty good this month, even my booby prize.
But I never really liked ‘36 Fords much.



Uphill on Track One through Gallitzin, PA (“guh-LIT-zin”) toward New Portage Tunnel. (Photo by BobbaLew.)

—The February 2010 entry of my own calendar is an eastbound train up the grade on Track One past AR Tower, which is closed.
The old Pennsy had three tracks over the summit of the Alleghenies, through three tunnels.
Originally they only had two tracks through one tunnel, “Allegheny” at Gallitzin.
As the size of equipment grew, Allegheny became restrictive at two tracks, so was re-laid as only one track.
The Pennsylvania Public Works System built new railroad to avoid its inclined planes — it included its own tunnel under the Alleghenies near Gallitzin; New Portage, but higher up than the Pennsy tunnel.
Eventually Pennsy got the entire Pennsylvania Public Works System, which it had put out of business, for a song, including its New Portage tunnel.
Pennsy aligned trackage over the summit to take advantage of New Portage tunnel, but had to ramp up to and down from it.
Down from New Portage on the eastern slope is “The Slide;” 2.36%, a 2.36 foot drop for every 100 feet forward — not too bad, but bad enough.
Years ago (1947) a passenger-train ran away on The Slide. It derailed and crashed beyond it when its brakes failed, killing 21.
With New Portage and Allegheny, Pennsy now had two tracks through the summit.
Pennsy eventually built a third tunnel in 1912, “Gallitzin,” right next to Allegheny.
Wrecked a building in Gallitzin, and killed a resident with rocks flying from a blast.
It’s very restrictive, and now abandoned.
The state contributed to expanding Allegheny a few years ago, so it could clear double-stacks.
Allegheny was also widened to allow back to two tracks. Doing so meant Gallitzin tunnel could be abandoned.
New Portage was also expanded to clear double-stacks, mainly by lowering the tunnel floor. —New Portage also had two tracks when first built.
The state helped because without double-stacks, Philadelphia was withering compared to other east-coast ports.
At that time the railroad operator was Conrail, which succeeded Penn-Central, the merger of Pennsy and New York Central that went bankrupt. Now it’s Norfolk Southern, a merger of Norfolk & Western and Southern Railway. Norfolk Southern purchased many of the ex-Pennsy lines when Conrail sold.
The train pictured is slowly grinding eastbound up the western slope of the Alleghenies on Track One toward New Portage tunnel.
It’s a difficult shot because it’s through a hole in chain-link fence — the hole about two inches in diameter.
I had to crop out fencing on the left side.
Track One is through New Portage; Two and Three through the expanded Allegheny. Three used to go through Gallitzin.
New Portage is about a half-mile from Allegheny; the other side of town.
You can hear a train climbing Track One, but can’t see it from Two and Three.
AR is where a loop track from Two and Three merged into One. One is eastbound, Three westbound, and Two can be either way.
Heavy freights often take Two down the eastern slope to avoid The Slide.
The loop was for helpers up the eastern slope to go back down One to Altoona.
The loop still exists, and sees use occasionally.
But most of the time the helpers go right on by, often all the way down to Pittsburgh, since they can add dynamic braking.
It’s my weakest picture, although others are also weak.
My friend Phil Faudi, the railfan extraordinaire from Altoona, PA, who supplies all-day train-chases for $125 (I’ve done two), suggests three tracks isn’t enough for the coming deluge of traffic when the recession subsides.
It’s already a bottleneck.
Gallitzin may have to be enlarged and reopened.


Spitfire. (Photo by Philip Makanna©.)

—The February 2010 entry of my Ghosts WWII warbirds calendar is fabulous, the Supermarine Spitfire.
The Supermarine Spitfire is the BEST airplane fielded by the British in WWII.
Not as good as a Mustang, but almost.
It used a 1,478 horsepower version of the water-cooled Merlin V12, earlier than the Mustang, which was at 1,695 horsepower.
The Mustang Merlin was made by Packard; the Spitfire Merlin by Rolls-Royce. —The Merlin engine was originally developed by Rolls-Royce.
It was the consummate British hot-rod — developed independent of British military requirements, but a superior airplane.
If I am right, it’s a development of a float-equipped racing seaplane; fast and extremely maneuverable.
It was so good the British rewrote their military fighter-plane requirements to accommodate it.
It was the old fighter-plane waazoo; speed and maneuverability triumph.
Kind of like the P38 Lightning in America — an airplane that didn’t meet single-engine fighter-plane requirements, but was superior.
A Spitfire could trump anything the Luftwaffe threw at it, but supposedly wasn’t the airplane that won the Battle of Britain.
That was the Hawker Hurricane. (Pictured at left.)
(That Hurricane picture is not Makanna. You can tell; it’s not very dramatic.
My Makanna Hurricane picture is 2008; it’s gone.)

Pennsylvania Railroad Alco RS11s south toward Morrisville, PA on the old Bel-Del Division of the Pennsy in Jersey. (Photo by Martin Zak©.)

—The February 2010 entry of my Audio-Visual Designs black and white All-Pennsy Calendar is a sterling example of a cardinal rule of artistic photography.
Namely, every photograph needs a foreground.
In this case the foreground is the crossbucks — the railroad-crossing sign.
The locomotives aren’t that photogenic. But those crossbucks make it a great picture, almost good enough to be my winner.
The locomotives are RS-11s, Alco’s DL-701, Alco’s successor to their highly successful RS-3 series. They were rated at 1,800 horsepower, and used a turbocharged V12 engine, their 251B series.
They accelerated faster than their competition (the EMD GP9), generated higher tractive effort, and used less fuel.
The RS-11 was also quite versatile, and was used in general freight service, which we see here.
Photo by BobbaLew.
Pennsy had 38, and I managed to snag a couple in the yards at Wilmington, DE about 1959.
My guess is these RS-11s were used down the Delmarva Peninsula, which wasn’t electrified.
At that time Pennsy was still using electrified freight engines, where applicable.
The P5 and P5a, and later the E-44 (see below).
Some GG1s ("Gee-Gee-One") were regeared down for freight service.
The RS-11 first hit the market in 1956.
It did fairly well, but EMD units did better; e.g. the GP9.
The RS11s were the next step up in the Alco RS series; first the RS1, then the RS2, and finally the RS3.
The road-switcher RS concept (the RS1) debuted in 1941.
The Bel-Del Division is a bucolic spur that runs up the Delaware River from Trenton, NJ.
It was very scenic, and therefore quite moribund — didn’t generate much freight.
It paralleled much of the Delaware & Raritan Canal along the Delaware River.
It’s been partially abandoned, Trenton up to Milford. Milford up to Phillipsburg is a shortline, but Phillipsburg up to Belvidere is still a viable class-one railroad, Norfolk Southern.
The train pictured is southbound from Phillipsburg to Morrisville, PA, via Trenton.
Phillipsburg is apparently fairly busy, and seems to have a yard, of sorts.
I can imagine a train of cars stacking up for these locomotives to take down to Morrisville, which is across the river in PA from Trenton, and junctions with the old Pennsy electrified line from New York City to Philadelphia.
It’s also where an electrified freight bypass around Philadelphia to Harrisburg started.

A Pennsy E44 on the freight-line parallel to the lower Susquehanna River. (Photo by Bill Janssen.)

—The February 2010 entry of my All-Pennsy color calendar is a General Electric E44.
The E44 was only built for Pennsy, out of its need to rectify the AC delivered by its catenary (“KAT-in-air-eee;” overhead trolley-wire).
Pennsy’s electrification is Alternating Current. Only AC could transmit over the long distances it had to travel.
But diesel-locomotive traction-motors are 600-volt Direct Current. Trolley lines were usually Direct Current too, as was New York Central’s third-rail electrification into New York City.
Pennsy’s Hudson tunnels were third-rail Direct Current at first, but were switched to overhead AC wiring with the coming of Alternating Current locomotives.
Unfortunately, AC locomotives won’t work on DC, nor will DC traction-motors run on AC.
Pennsy went whole-hog with AC electrification.
The fabulous GG1 (“Gee-Gee-One”) locomotive was AC.
As were many of their earlier electric locomotives, and the MP54 commuter cars.
By the ‘50s, Pennsy’s electric freight locomotives, the P5 and P5a, which had been downgraded from passenger service by the GG1, were old and worn out.
Pennsy began experimenting with replacements, some rectified, some not, all cab-units, like diesel cab-units.
Photo by BobbaLew.
An E2b at Wilmington Shops about 1960.
The E2b was straight AC, built by General Electric, and could be MU-ed with a P5.
The locomotive pictured at left is an E2b.
Baldwin-Westinghouse built a three-truck E3; three four-wheel trucks on a common frame — one truck was in the center where the fuel-tank usually was on a diesel.
It used ignitron rectification.
Baldwin also built a two-truck E2c, also rectified, with two three-axle trucks.
The E44 came after Virginian Railway, and buyer New Haven, did well with Virginian’s E33 rectified electric locomotive, 3,300 horsepower, built by General Electric.
The E44 came in two iterations.
The first 60 used ignitron rectification, but the final six used newly developed silicon diode rectification, much more rugged and reliable.
Eventually many E44s were converted to silicon diode rectification.
Rectification meant the E44 could use the traction-motors used in diesels.
A new traction-motor became available, which allowed uprating the locomotive from 4,400 horsepower to 5,000.
Efficient as it was, maintenance of the overhead catenary was time-consuming and costly.
Plus a crash could take down wire disabling a segment.
Eventually the freight lines were deenergized, and wiring removed.
I knew the locomotives would wear out, but I thought that wire was forever.
All that remains is the line-side poles. —It’s depressing.
I bet this freight line pictured, if it even exists at all, isn’t wired.


Second 95, a southbound time freight, resumes after making a setoff at Waynesboro. (Photo by O. Winston Link.)

—The February 2010 entry of my O. Winston Link "Steam and Steel" calendar is better than last month.
Not that bad, really.
I almost made it my winner, but my Ghosts warbirds calendar was more dramatic.
The locomotive is Y6 #2150, a 2-8-8-2 compound articulated, compound meaning spent steam from the rear cylinders powers the front cylinders.
Compounding was very popular around the turn of the century, but it didn’t work out well.
Usually railroads that operated compound articulateds ended up converting their compounds to “simple;” the single boiler powering all four cylinder-sets directly.
Railroads even tried compounding in non-articulated steam locomotives. Cylinders powered inside axle cranks, often a third cylinder, sometimes a third and fourth.
Sometimes such locomotives were simple, with the boiler powering all cylinders directly.
But the valve-gear, being inside, was so hard to work on the railroads gave up.
At least with a compound articulated, its valve-gear was accessible.
It’s just that compounds didn’t work very well.
Yet Norfolk & Western made it work.
Far as I know, the Y6 was the only successful compound.
On Norfolk & Western, regularly scheduled freight trains were called “time freights.”
Norfolk & Western mainly shipped coal, usually in “extra” coal trains.
When a string of loaded hopper-cars came together, it was dragged somewhere as an “extra.”
Empty hoppers were also moved as “extra.”
Often time freights got loaded out with coal cars.
Second 95, a time freight, has stopped at Waynesboro to set out cars.
Setout completed, it resumes in the dark past Waynesboro depot.
Station-Agent F.C. Amentrout is inside.


1971 Dodge Super Bee. (Photo by David Newhardt.)

—The February 2010 entry of my Motorbooks Musclecars calendar is a 1971 Dodge Super Bee.
Sorry; not bad, but not the best.
A ‘69 Dodge Charger.
Best was the ‘69 Dodge Charger (pictured at left), a gorgeous car.
The Super Bee was a response to the phenomenally successful Plymouth RoadRunner, a great concept, startlingly incredible performance on the cheap.
Meld a four-speed floor-shift with a high-performance 383 Wedge in an el-cheapo Plymouth.
Sold like hotcakes; so successful all the other manufacturers had to scramble.
The Pontiac G-T-O was another great concept, but cost megabucks compared to a RoadRunner.
A RoadRunner wasn’t as fast as the super cars, but it was fast enough.
Cost-wise it was within range of the average joe.
A ‘69 RoadRunner.
My neighbor in Rochester had one; but it was dark green with TorqueFlite automatic tranny.
Sadly it got totaled; rammed by a drunk while parked.
The RoadRunner pictured has a special hood-scoop I’ve never seen before; i.e. it ain’t stock.
Beyond that a RoadRunner is quite large; enough sheet metal for a pickup truck.
But they went like stink, and sold a lot.
Mind-bending performance on the cheap. Usually enough to beat most hot-rodded Small-Block Chevys in street racing.
Only the mega-rich could afford a full-bore muscle-car; e.g. a 454 Chevelle, or a G-T-O Judge.
But the average joe wasn’t racing full-bore muscle-cars. He was racing tricked-out Small-Block Chevys. A RoadRunner was comparable.
Plus it was a street-racer you bought ready-to-race from the dealer — a Small-Block Chevy had to be hot-rodded. (E.g. you had to install a Duntov cam.)
What’s most laughable about that Super Bee is that el-cheapo pop-hood scoop that looks like it was fashioned from Coke cans.
It’s probably better than that, but looks like a cheap-shot.
Cut a hole in the hood, and install this cheap stamping. —And make it pop up by lack of engine vacuum; i.e. when the gas-pedal is floored.


1936 Ford Three-Window Coupe.

—The February 2010 entry of my Oxman Hot-Rod Calendar is a 1936 Ford Three-Window coupe; my boobie-prize.
Actually, it’s not that bad as a picture — I just don’t like ‘36 Fords.
And apparently a three-window coupe is rare — I haven’t seen many.
Who knows when Ford stopped making three-window coupes; the last I could find with a cursory Google search was 1937.
A ‘39 Ford five-window coupe.
At left is a ‘39 Ford five-window DeLuxe coupe — I don’t think Ford was making three-windows by then.
A five-window has small windows behind the doorposts. A three-window doesn’t.
The ‘39-‘40 Ford coupes are gorgeous.
Old Henry thought styling was frivolous — what mattered was function.
That being the case, Ford did not have a huge styling section like General Motors.
Yet despite that Old Henry brought some of the finest looking cars ever to market; e.g. the Model A, the ‘32 Ford, the ‘34, and the ‘39-‘40 Ford coupes.
The head of Ford styling was Eugene T. “Bob” Gregorie, and it was just a small styling section, but had the backing of Henry’s son Edsel Ford.
It was Edsel that brought Ford Motor Company beyond Old Henry, to become a viable auto manufacturer.
Key to making the ‘32 Ford the great step forward it was, was moving the gas-tank from the cowl to the rear of the car.
No longer was gasoline trickling from cowl tank to engine by gravity; it was now moving by fuel-pump.
There also was the Flat-head V8 motor introduced in the ‘32 model-year.
Old Henry had made a V8 available to the masses.
The car pictured probably had a Flat-head at first; Flat-head being a side-valve engine, like a Briggs & Stratton lawnmower engine (though water-cooled).
It’s valving was in the engine block; not overhead in the cylinder heads.
The Flat-head Ford V8 lasted through the 1953 model year, and was snappy and cheap enough to father hot-rodding.
Yet the ‘39-‘40 Fords aren’t the best-looking coupes of that era.
The first Stone-Woods-Cook Willys, an actual Willys.
That would be the ‘41 Willys; same styling, but a three-window, and better yet a one-piece windshield.
Very basic and raw-looking. No adornment, but the same graceful lines as the ‘39-‘40 Ford coupes.
It has the same double rear-window as the ‘39-‘40 Ford coupe, but lacks the styling complication of -a) a two-piece windshield, and -b) a five-window design.
The ‘41 Willys coupe was lighter than the ‘39-‘40 Ford coupe, though about as aerodynamic.
Which is why Stone-Woods started racing it.
Their first racer was an actual Willys, but then the powers-that-be that ran drag-racing permitted fiberglass reproduction bodies, which allowed Stone/Woods to build a racer much lighter.
That would be “Swindler II,” pictured below, essentially a reproduction fiberglass ‘41 Willys body plopped on a dragster chassis.
Its front-end was tube solid, same as a dragster, and it had no radiator.
Dragsters don’t either. They can only run a few minutes.
It was so fast it needed a drag chute just like a dragster.
If I were to build a hot-rod, it would be based on the ‘41 Willys coupe.
Best-looking hot-rod ever.


Swindler II.

Labels: