Monthly Calendar Report for April, 2010

South Fork! (Photo by BobbaLew.)

—The April 2010 entry of my own calendar is moribund, except South Fork is one of the most scenic locations on the old Pennsy.
The railroad has fallen hard by the Conemaugh River (“CONE-uh-maw”) after coming off the Alleghenies — the summit.
At South Fork the railroad turns northwest, following the river course down to Pittsburgh. It eventually turns west, zigging and zagging to follow the river.
Following a river course was less challenging than tunneling a slew of mountain ridges. Railroads were mid 19th century grading and location. They didn't have modern earth-moving equipment.
South Fork is also where a branch went east toward a coal-loader (or mine).
That branch goes off to the left, and that parallel track visible is part of a wye.
The loaded coal hoppers get parked on that track before getting dragged onto the mainline.
So here comes a heavy unit grain train, upgrade on Track One. Track One is eastbound, and the train is grinding toward the summit.
It's a very scenic location, with that broad sweeping curve and that mountain ridge in the background.
The only thing wrong with this picture is that ex-Conrail SD40-2 helper on the point, still in Conrail paint. —I'd prefer Norfolk Southern.
The SD40-2 helper-sets are finally being retired. #3338 may have been scrapped. —The SD40-2 helper-sets have been in use a long time.
Replacements are downrated SD-50s, SD-40Es.
It's a very scenic shot, but difficult because -a) it's taken from a concrete retaining wall, visible in the bottom left corner, and -b) that row of wooden posts always impinges.
There is a highway overpass up the railroad, but it's too far from the curve.
I always drive down to South Fork during visits to the Mighty Curve. —In hopes of snagging a satisfying picture.
But it's always working against me, scenic as it is......
Horseshoe Curve is on the east slope of the Alleghenies, South Fork on the west slope, and west of the Curve.
It's about 20-25 miles from the Curve.
Horseshoe Curve (the “mighty Curve”), west of Altoona (“al-TUNE-uh”), PA, is 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.
The town of South Fork is a disaster, dying, with little more than the railroad and that coal-loader to justify it.
Streets are cramped, and many are one lane — more like alleys.
That concrete retaining wall was once part of a highway overpass over the railroad, long ago removed.
But very scenic. You can hear trains hammering upgrade toward you on Track One, and there's an interlocking around the curve.
—Also signals, which get called out by the train engineers.
I guess there used to be a signal tower there, but that's gone.
Coal trains off the branch get put on the mainline by a dispatcher far away in Pittsburgh.


Mustang. (Photo by Philip Makanna©.)

—The April 2010 entry of my Ghosts WWII warbirds calendar is “arguably the greatest fighter airplane of all time.”
So says some site about the P-51 Mustang.
Well, maybe so, but what about the F-104 Starfighter, and even more recent fighter-jets?
I think if a fighter-jockey had a choice, he'd take a recent fighter-jet.
Speed always trumps maneuverability, which was partly why the P-51 Mustang succeeded. It was faster than most fighter planes.
Despite it not being a jet, a P-51 is worth seeing.
Part of it is its piston engine.
As my friend Matt Ried said: “There's nothing like a big honkin' piston engine.”
Most of all was its sound.
I saw one do aerobatics at the Geneseo Air Show; full-on power-dives at 500+ mph.
And hammerhead stalls.
It's something I'll never forget; it's still in my head.
And the sound was gorgeous.
There's nothing like a Packard-Merlin V12 at full song.
Unmuffled of course.
Every American, BY LAW, should be required to see a P-51 fly.
And above all, hear it.
I can't get the P-51 overfly wav-file.
I guess it's defunct.
The average viewer might be bored. But not this kid.

Pennsylvania Railroad GG1 #4809 rolls north through Monmouth Junction. NJ, with train MD-12 out of Potomac Yard near Washington toward Meadows Yard across from New York City. (Photo by Gene Collora©.)

—The April 2010 entry of my Audio-Visual Designs black and white All-Pennsy Calendar is nothing special, except the GG1 electric locomotive (“Gee-Gee-One”) is the greatest railroad locomotive of all time.
That's my opinion, of course. But I saw many as a teenager growing up in northern Delaware on the Pennsylvania Railroad's fabulous New York City to Washington DC electrified line, now Amtrak's Northeast Corridor.
And every time I saw one, it was doing 80-100 mph!

STAND BACK! (Photo by BobbaLew.)

About 1960 I peddled my ancient balloon-tire RollFast bicycle up to Claymont (“KLAY-mahnt”) station in northern Delaware, my father's 1930s Kodak HawkEye camera in tow.
Claymont station wasn't much. Just a commuter-stop toward Philadelphia on Pennsy's fabulous New York-to-Washington electrified line.
The railroad was four tracks through Claymont; and express passenger trains didn't stop there.
To the south, the express passenger trains ran on the inside tracks. I expected the same at Claymont.
I set up trackside about 10 feet from the outside track, arm hooked around a cast-iron light-standard. —You can see another in the picture.
I could hear a train coming.
WHOA! It's on the outside track!
Boomed past at about 90.
The fastest that HawkEye had was 1/125th of a second, but it stopped it.
WHOOSH! Had I not hooked my arm around that light-standard, I wouldn't be here.
I woulda been sucked into the train.
That experience is still etched on my brain 50 years later.
There's nothing like a GG1.

AEM7.

After my stroke, my brother in northern Delaware took me back to Claymont.
By then the line was Amtrak's Northeast Corridor, the GG1s gone, replaced by the AEM-7.
It was my return to reality. Giant lightning-bolts of electricity arcing between the pantograph (“PANT-uh-GRAFF,” atop the locomotive) and the bouncing catenary (“KAT-in-NAIR-eee,” the trolley-wire).
Just like the GG1s.
#4809 is one of the GG1s regeared down for freight service.
It couldn't boom-and-zoom like the passenger GG1s; 90 mph instead of 110.
Which is why this engine is moving freight.
Probably at a good clip, though; 40-60 mph.
A GG1 could put down an incredible amount of power.



—The April 2010 entry of my Oxman Hot-Rod Calendar is a Model-A Ford hot-rod with a track nose.
In fact, that nose is the only thing wrong with it, although the car's color is questionable too.
Hot-rodders were always doing that; grafting the nose of a racetrack car onto their hot-rod.
Looks okay, but not as successful as the'32 Ford radiator grille.
Which is gorgeous.
But the car is pretty righteous.
It has a '42 Mercury flat-head V8 motor. Hot-rodders usually gave up on them after the Small-Block Chevy debuted for the 1955 model-year.
It got 142 mph at Bonneville, which is extraordinary for Flat-head.
The car is light, and fairly aerodynamic. —It has a full belly-pan.
It was constructed in 1949, and won the “America's Most Beautiful Roadster” trophy at the 1950 Oakland Roadster Show. —The first to ever win that trophy.
It raised the standard for hot-rodding, since it was so much better than earlier hot-rods, which were rudimentary.
Best part is that it's drivable. Set a speed-record, then drive it home.


Norfolk & Western Train 201 leaves Green Cove, VA to begin the climb to White Top. (Photo by O. Winston Link.)

—The April 2010 entry of my O. Winston Link "Steam and Steel" calendar is another Link mood shot.
Link had taken a picture of the train at the rural Green Cove station, then swung his tripod around as the train departed.
Of interest to me is that '56 Ford two-door sedan in the foreground.
Look at the tires on that sucker; mere water-balloons.
I guess it's not Link's car, which was a '52 Buick convertible. The license-plate says Tennessee.
And the license-plate has the trapezoidal shape of the state, available back then.
The Pennsylvania plate was the same thing; shaped like the state.
The Pennsy plate now is no longer the shape of the state; and I bet Tennessee's isn't either.
And tires are much better than the rim-protectors available back then. So good the owners often put more recent tires on their restorations.
The train is apparently a “mixed;” both freight and passenger.
Rural railroad service had denigrated to that; add passenger-cars to a freight-train.
The train is into a three percent grade; torturous.
That's three feet up for 100 feet forward.
But the train is short enough it can do it.
Three percent is about the limit. Four percent is almost impossible.
To climb four percent a train might have to be broken into three or more sections.
Even three percent calls for sectioning a train.
And beyond three percent is begging for wheel-slip.
A diesel-electric locomotive might do it. It's delivering constant drive-torque to the railheads.
A side-rod steam locomotive isn't.
It's delivering intermittent torque pulses to the drivers. With a piston-thrust the drivers might break adhesion.
Go steep enough, and you're begging for this.
Which is why railroads try to not exceed one percent.
Exceeding one percent usually needed helpers; especially during the age of side-rod steam locomotives.
Even diesels often need help to get a heavy train upgrade.
Exceed four percent and ya start needing cogged railways; whatcha see in the Alps.
Logging railroads often exceeded four percent.
But they used Shay steam locomotives, which deliver more constant drive-torque.
They aren't side-rod steam locomotives.
They work a driveshaft.
Western Maryland had a steep branch in West Virginia; six percent.
They had to use Shays.

Photo by Michael Summers©.

Big Six.

Only one is left; Western Maryland's “Big Six.”
It's operated by Cass Scenic Railroad in WV (“Kass”).
I've ridden behind it (actually ahead; it was pushing).
It's almost too big for Cass — some curves are too tight for it. Although the rail is no longer the light stuff used by logging railroads.
Big Six is not a log engine.


1970 Buick Stage One GS convertible. (Photo by David Newhardt.)

—The April 2010 entry of my Motorbooks Musclecars calendar is what my brother-in-Boston claims is the best musclecar ever, a Buick Grand-Sport (GS).
Well, I guess so, but to me it lacks balance.
What it is is overkill in the motor, but the suspension is not similar overkill.
The engine is 455 cubic-inches of displacement, and the torque is 510 foot-pounds.
Both are HUGE.
Crank that much torque into a standard suspended tractor layout, and the rear axle gets twisted out of line.
The engineers knew this, and did a pretty good job of controlling it.
In fact, the Grand-Sport Buicks were some of the best-handing musclecars, although the 4-4-2 Oldsmobiles were similar.
But still, that's humongous engine-weight on the front end, and rudimentary suspension in the rear.
Stick your foot into it on a curvy road, and ya end up in the weeds.
Bend it into a corner, and it plows straight ahead.
G-T-O Pontiacs were notorious for this.
Great fun in a straight line, but a handful in normal driving.
For that ya need a Ferrari, or a Boss-302 Mustang.
Still, the musclecar concept was popular.
Mind-bending horsepower for not too much money.
Keep the cost down by using the same basic underpinnings as a standard automobile.....
Yet hook up a gigantic high-performance motor.
My brother-in-Boston has a 1971 454 SS Chevelle.
I drove it once; scary.

(Photo by George Krambles.)

—The April 2010 entry of my All-Pennsy color calendar is the observation-car at the tail-end of the Pennsylvania Railroad's “Broadway Limited.”
The “Broadway” was Pennsy's premier passenger-train; Chicago to New York City.
Not named after the city's “Broadway,” but the fact the Pennsy was mostly a four-track right-of-way, a “broad way.”
The Broadway was all Pullman — first class — no coaches.
It also was fast, trying to better the New York Central Railroad's “20th Century Limited.”
But both railroads were running against impediments; the Century navigating an extreme dogleg via Albany, and the Broadway conquering mountains, and a dogleg north from Philadelphia.

Pennsy “left” is winning.

Both would leave Chicago about the same time on parallel rights-of-way, which led to side-by-side races.
Usually the Century won. It was using J-3 Hudsons (4-6-4), more modern and powerful than Pennsy's K4 Pacific (4-6-2).
But often the Broadway had double-headed K4s, so the Broadway could trump the Century.
Pennsy never really developed a more modern steam-locomotive during the late '20s and early '30s. They were involved in electrification.
Instead, they double-headed the K4s to cover increasing train-weights.
That's two engine-crews per train, an added expense Pennsy could afford.
Double-headed steam-locomotives can't be operated by only one crew, as can diesels.
The Broadway lasted until Amtrak, even into Amtrak; Train 40. Diesel to Philadelphia, and then up the Northeast Corridor to New York City in reverse behind an electric locomotive.
But eventually the Broadway was cut. There's no longer any Amtrak service across PA not subsidized by the state.
The only Amtrak cross-PA train that remains is the “Pennsylvanian,” from New York to Pittsburgh, and that's subsidized by the state.


The “Pennsylvanian” booms west on Track Three through Summerhill, PA, west of Allegheny summit. (Photo by BobbaLew)

Yada-yada-yada-yada

And so begins the great wrastling-match of doing the income tax.
I keep two Excel® spreadsheets. One is expense, everything that goes in Schedule A, Itemized Deductions. The other is income.
Income includes my wife's pension, my pension, and our Social Security benefits.
The spreadsheet totals should agree with our 1099s, but they don't.
Well okay, one month of my wife's pension is not in there — a simple fix.
But Social Security is off in the ozone.
It makes no sense at all.
The monthly amount of my Social Security benefit is even — no cents.
But the amount declared on my statement has cents.
The amount Social Security declares is $6.60 less than my spreadsheet.
It declares my monthly benefit is what I have it as (cents-less); yet comes out with $6.60 less than that amount times 12.
My wife's Social Security is really mucked up.
In their infinite wisdom they decided she started collecting Social Security while she still worked.
Actually, she didn't.
Didn't start Social Security until she retired.
So they adjusted her monthly benefit, and gave her $912.
My wife protested this a year ago, and so far nothing.
Yada-yada-yada. Please hold during the silence. (Ba-BOOM; Ba-BOOM!) All representatives are busy; Goodbye! (This after 20 minutes of navigating a contorted answering system.)
So my Excel spreadsheet is way off in her case.
We'll probably end up using the amounts Social Security declared, since that's what IRS will use.
But how that was determined is beyond us; and we both have college degrees.

• “My wife” of 42+ years is “Linda.”

Defuse 'em with humor

Republican Congressman Boehner loudly declares if healthcare reform passes it'll be Armageddon.
President Obama wakes up the morning after healthcare reform passed, and looks outside. No blood running through the streets, no four horsemen of the apocalypse, no flaming meteors falling from the sky, no giant cracks in the earth's crust appearing underfoot.
“Looks like a nice day,” he observes.
Rush Limbaugh loudly declares he will leave the country if healthcare reform passes.
Healthcare reform passes, so people ask if he's left yet.

Gathering of Eagles

Left-to-right: Art Dana, Gary Coleman, ?????????, Betty Clark, Linda Covington, Murray Schroeder, Gary Colvin, Ron Palermo, me. (Others had left, and are not in the picture.)

Another pancake breakfast at Cartwright's Maple Tree Inn came-and-went yesterday (Thursday, March 25, 2010).
The pancake breakfast is an annual get-together of retirees from Regional Transit Service (RTS) in Rochester, NY.
For 16&1/2 years I drove transit bus for RTS, the supplier of transit-bus service in the Rochester area. My stroke ended that in late October of 1993.
Most there have many more years of service than I did. Many over 30.
My bus-driving was cut short, although I was tiring of it.
It paid well, but was a dangerous job, fraught with peril.
Most people have no idea how dangerous it was.
I liked driving bus, but was tiring of the clientele.
Most important was following the secret fourth rule of bus-driving, that management never knew about.
Which was DON'T GET SHOT!
The other three rules were 1) show up, 2) don't hit anything, and 3) keep your hands out of the farebox.
Management knew about those.
Crossing them was grounds for firing.
They loved me at Transit, because I followed those three rules.
Although as far as I could see, rule-breakers were in the minority.
You also developed a sixth sense that manifested itself as defensive driving.
Even if you were in the right, you backed off.
If you didn't you hit things and got canned.
Management called it “professional driving......”
Plus management, at least upper management, seemed like jerks.
Bloated fat-cats driving desks for excessive pay.
Bowing and fawning to head-honcho.
If something went wrong, it was automatically the bus-driver's fault.
One morning I went through five buses before finding one with a working wheelchair lift.
I ended up 25 minutes late.
Driver's fault, of course.
Another morning I hit a deer with my bus on the way out on a Park-and-Ride.
The deer got up and walked away, but the Sheriff had to be called.
Did they cover my trip?
Of course not!
I had to parry my passengers, what remained of them, wondering why I was a half-hour late.
Many mornings I got started late, because mechanics had to tighten loose lug-nuts I had found.
I was one of the few who checked. I wasn't having a wheel come off.
Retirees noted they were glad to be out of Transit, but many suggested it was worth working there. I noted my house was paid for by Transit, and another said he raised three families.
Most interesting to me was seeing my old friends Murray Schroeder (“SHROH-der;” as in “oh”) and David Brown (“Brownie”); also a girl named “Betty.”
I think her name was Betty Clark, but that's not the last name I remember.
She apparently remarried a few times, and first was a bus-driver herself, and then became a supervisor in the Training Department.
Brownie was middle management — I guess a radio-dispatcher in the end.
He started after me; first as a bus-driver, and then into management assigning bus-drivers.
I faintly remember him driving bus-radio before my stroke.
Doing so was parrying madness; helped by GPS transponders on the buses recently.
That way, management could know if three buses were following each other inbound on a bus-line in a blizzard.
The radio-guy also had to get replacement buses to buses that had become inoperable, plus send road-supervisors to settle disputes with our clientele.
It's amazing Brownie could do it, yet not be a jerk. Most weren't, yet some were. And that's despite being safely walled off from reality in that radio-room.
Brownie was rather straight-arrow, but otherwise a great guy. He wasn't pulling rank, like some did.
Schroeder started two classes before me, and we palled around quite a bit.
He stayed a bus-driver the whole time he was there, but also soldiered in three wars — including Iraq.
He kept noting how we palled around so much, yet after my stroke I flat disappeared.
“Yep,” I said. “That's kind of what happened. Out of commission for almost two years, and never driving bus again.”
I then went to work for the mighty Mezz, and really liked that.
A job-counselor wanted to try to get my bus-driving job back again, but I told him to forget it.
I preferred the mighty Mezz.
Murray is the one who raised three families, yet “I never completed high-school.”
Murray and I were sorta on the same wavelength.
I almost bought my first motorcycle from him, a Triumph.
But I bought a Norton instead.
It's amazing to recall I learned how to ride motorbike on that monster.
Figure-eights on small city streets.
It probably weighed almost 600 pounds.
Murray brought an old copy of my “282-News” he had saved.
The “282-News” was a voluntary newsletter I did for my bus-union, Local 282, the Rochester Division of the nationwide Amalgamated Transit Union (“what's 'ATU?'”).
I did it during my final year of employ before my stroke.
I did it with Word® on our first computer.
It was great fun, but it was a HUGE amount of work.
A compatriot passed it around to local politicians, and it thereby drove Transit management crazy.
Previously all dramas had been swept out of sight, so that the local perception among politicians was that everything was hunky-dory at Transit.
Yet here's my fabulous newsletter revealing otherwise.
“Don't read that stuff!” yelled the Transit PR guy. “Just a bunch of hot-head union activists!”
I tried to talk to him once at a party, but he ran into the Men's Room.
“Just keep it positive!” he bellowed, as he disappeared.
He was getting paid $70,000 a year (1993 dollars) to -A) produce a house-organ, and -B) keep things quiet. And I was driving him nuts.
He was supposed to get that house-organ out every two months, yet he might do it twice a year.
Yet I was getting my newsletter out once every month, and wasn't getting paid for it.
Yet he still collected his bloated salary.
I was also driving bus every weekday, eight hours a day.
I'd walk out with a fist full of blank timesheets; writing paper.
I'd write stuff during layovers, sometimes on the back of transfers, tiny strips of paper maybe an inch&1/2 wide.
I'd come home after work and key it all in.
My wife was mowing the lawn.
Then I was often up until 3 a.m. finishing it.
Next morning my wife would take the 'pyooter-files on floppies to her place of employ for printout on her laser printer.
And her Word® at work was slightly different than here at home, so copy might jump and have to be rearranged — font size reduced, etc.
She'd return with the master printouts, which we then “printed,” 400 or so of each page on the union copier.
My compatriot and I would then collate the entire mess into a newsletter, and show up at Transit at 4 a.m. to pass 'em out to drivers pulling out buses.
We had fun while it lasted.
We had Transit management going ballistic.
And they couldn't can me, since I was such a stellar employee; plus there was a lot of good in that newsletter.
But my stroke ended it.
The stuff I'm proudest of were my “Miscellaneous” bus-stories, stories of various misadventures driving bus.
Like my driving bus down a sidewalk in a blizzard.
Or the time my bus ran away on its own.
Or the time a bus dumped on me on-its-own, and the road-mechanics wondered why I had dumped it.
Other stuff were editorials, like -A) the time I rode a Park-and-Ride myself as a passenger, and it sounded like the tranny was gonna come through the floor, and -B) my daydream about picking up head-honcho with my bus.
Never in a million years was head-honcho gonna ride with the bus-passengers. “Riff-raff,” he called them.
As a safety-award we'd get day-old unsold donuts bought cheap from a local donut-shop. —Or so said the scuttlebutt. (I doubt it was true.)
That “Miscellaneous” stuff was what was appealing to management — bus-stories were getting out.
We also ran cartoons; the infamous “282-toons.”
I would write the story-line, and another driver did the drawing.
Best were -A) a bus-driver getting mugged by a passenger, and -B) the motor-cradle falling out of the back of a bus on a lift in the Overhaul Shop.
Both of these incidents actually happened, especially assaults on drivers. The fact we were cartooning it drove management crazy — before it had been hush-hushed.
Maple Tree Inn is only open a few months each year; maple sugaring season, when the maple sap is running.
Cartwright's boils that sap down into maple syrup, which they serve on homemade buckwheat pancakes.
The place is out in the middle of nowhere, yet famous world-wide.
The place was packed when we got there.
People were standing outside waiting, and parking was near impossible.
Most of the patrons were elderly — lookout for Granny driving her walker!
I've done this gig twice before, and learned you can't eat breakfast before going there.
I managed five pancakes, and two sausage patties; one pancake by mistake — I got three on reload, instead of two.
This shindig is always pleasant — a bunch of ornery Transit retirees swapping stories. More fun than my newsletter.
Afterward some of us drove to Art Dana's (“DAY-nuh”) house to try to fix his HO model-railroad running track.
Art is the retired bus-driver with fairly severe Parkinson’s Disease.
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.
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.
His model-railroad is actually two running loops, one inside his original 4x8 table, and the second out onto his expansion to 5x9.
The two running-tracks were connected by a long crossover, and only the inside loop was powered.
The inside rail was positive, the outside rail the ground. The circuit is continuous.
But the outside loop wasn't powered, unless the crossover switches were thrown.
In which case, the chamfered rails of the crossover switches acted like conductors and powered the outside loop.
But if the crossover is in effect, it negates the outside loop as a running track.
Run a train on it, and it will cross over into the inside loop (or derail at the switch, if running into it backwards).
We lassoed Gary Colvin, a long-time model railroader, and retired bus-driver, who attended the pancake breakfast.
“Art,” he said; “if ya wanna use the outside loop as a running-track, ya gotta power it separately, and insulate it from the crossover.”
“Wait a minute,” I said.
“Do we even want that crossover?”
“Your call, Art.”
“I think we better do it, Gary.”
Art has two power-paks; he can do one for each loop. That way he can run trains in opposite directions at different speeds with different starts and stops on each loop.
Gary insulated the crossover.
We thereafter tried a model-railroad locomotive on it. It died after it crossed the insulated track joints into the currently unpowered part.
“Toldja,” I said. “If anyone can figure out this stuff it's me, and Art, and Gary and Gary” (Colvin and Coleman).
“Work for Transit and ya can do anything!”
(Like me Coleman has had a stroke; but his was more damaging.)

• I had a stroke October 26, 1993.
• 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.)
• Both “ Triumph” and “Norton” are motorcycle manufacturers based in Britain. Both went defunct, although the Triumph name has been resurrected.
• “What’s ‘ah-two?’” is something my mother asked seeing my ATU (Amalgamated Transit Union) button.
• “Our” is my wife-of-42+-years and I.
• The “layover” is the end of the bus-line, where the bus turns around and “lays over” until time to depart inbound.
• In 1993 bus-transfers cost 10¢ each. They were used to transfer to a second bus. At that time, bus-fare was $1; $1.10 with a transfer.
• “‘Pyooter” is computer.
• “Dumped” is a mechanical term. The air-supply to an engine was cut, so that the engine died smothered in fuel, with no air to burn it. —Every bus had a “dump-switch” to kill the motor.
• “Tranny” is transmission. All our buses were automatic transmission.
• HO is half-O; O-gauge being 1&1⁄4 inches (32 mm) between the rails; most commonly 1:48 scale. HO scale is about 1:87.086 — 16.5 mm (0.650 inches) between railheads. O-gauge was common to Lionel Trains, but to model to O-scale would have made rolling-stock so large it would overwhelm everything. O-scale was the track scale used by Lionel Trains, but their equipment was to a much smaller scale. Lionel was a toy train;. not very realistic, but rugged and operable by children. But to scale it to real size woulda made it HUGE. Lionel also used three-rail tinplate track — hardly very real looking. I preferred American Flyer, because it was at least two-rail track; more realistic. HO track was more realistic yet; two-rail on plastic ties. And it was small enough to allow equipment scaled to size.

For cryin' out loud!

“For cryin' out loud!” I said.
“Are they for real? They ain't getting' no $25,000!”
As fairly generous givers — a tax-dodge — we get a constant deluge of solicitations every month.
Every month the March of Dimes hits us, as does Easter Seals, and Open Door Mission in Rochester, NY.
Last Christmas I gave to American Lung Association — Christmas seals — so now we get a solicitation every month.
A while ago I got a phonecall from March of Dimes at supper-time; begging for money.
“Once a year,” I told them. “Every March. That's all you're getting.
You guys think I'm a bottomless pit?
And once a year to Easter Seals, around Easter. No matter how many stickem return labels ya send me.
You guys always have your hand out.
'We got a hot one here, Maggy. Call 'em up!'”
Dubya-Hex-Hex-Hi, the public-radio classical music station in Rochester we listen to, is always bombarding us with solicitations, I suppose because we are members.
I think the world of WXXI, to the tune of $900 per year.
But that's all.
Every solicitation has check-mark boxes for $1,000, $2,500, and $5,000.
“They ain't gettin' no $5,000,” I shriek.
This most recent solicitation, pictured above, takes the cake.
They suggest I fork over $25,000.
It's from the American-Motorcycle-Association (AMA) Motorcycle Hall-of-Fame campaign.
I ride motorcycle, and am a member of AMA.
I also have given to the Motorcycle Hall-of-Fame in the past.
But they have to be kidding......
“For 25,000 smackaroos they can rename the museum.”

• “Open Door Mission” is a shelter for the homeless and poor.

Check Engine

The other day (Saturday, March 20, 2010) our 2003 Honda CR-V threw up its dreaded “check-engine” light.
A tiny yellow icon glaring on the dash display.
As far as I can recall, this is the first anomaly over seven years of ownership; almost 60,000 miles.
That car is as-purchased. Everything is original except the battery, which I just replaced. It lasted seven years.
Even the exhaust system. Must be stainless steel. Years ago I woulda been on the second or third exhaust by now.
Plus the tires. —I replaced the stock tires and wheels shortly after purchase with alloy wheels and performance tires.
Those tires wore out last summer, and were replaced with another set.
60,000 miles isn't much, but now that we're retired we don't drive as much.
In fact, it's the first anomaly a Honda has thrown at us over 20 years of Honda ownership.
So I took it back to good old Ontario Honda, where I bought it brand-new years ago.
I've always thought the world of Ontario Honda.
They correctly realigned our previous Honda, after a minor accident, which is the BEST car we've ever owned.
That car, an '89, lasted 13 years and went 160,000 miles, and we might still be driving it had it not been crashed.
The insurance company totaled it, but I was tempted to fix it anyway.
We didn't. We were afraid it might have been pranged.
I had the dealer in Rochester, where we bought it, align it, and they messed it up.
I had to align it myself. I could. I purchased tools for doing so from some classic-car restorer in Penfield.
I couldn't align it after the minor accident, because a tie-rod bolt had froze.
By then we were living out here, so I farmed out the job to Ontario Honda.
They did it right, unlike that dealer in Rochester.
And that was despite that frozen tie-rod bolt, and alignment made wonky by that minor accident.
The CR-V also needed inspection, so I went to Ontario Honda yesterday (Tuesday, March 23, 2010).
“It won't pass inspection with that 'check engine' light on,” said the service-rep.
First they would analyze the check-engine light.
Off to the waiting-room.
“General Hospital” was on.
Yelling and screaming between two protagonists facing each other.
I been on this planet over 66 years, and have never experienced as much insanity as transpires on that program in one week.
Next was Oprah, who kept being “shocked.”
Something about “distracted driving” and cellphone usage and texting while driving.
Tearful interviewees were trotted by recounting tales of horror and mayhem.
It's true, of course.
I nearly got backed over by a cellphone user in the parking-lot of the Honeoye Falls MarketPlace.
Who then acted like it was my fault she nearly hit me, and kept right on yammering.
Another time I got run off the road on my way to the mighty Mezz by a young lady in a black Volkswagen Jetta applying make-up while yammering on her cellphone and reading the Democrat & Chronicle.
When I drive my cellphone goes in my back pocket.
If anyone calls, it goes to voicemail.
Recently my wife served a lady at the West Bloomfield post-office who was incensed the NY State-Police had nailed her for cellphone use while driving.
Driving takes 100 percent concentration.
It's my having driven bus for Regional Transit.
Madness and insanity are everywhere.
It takes 100 percent concentration to avoid accidents.
The service-rep came out and told me the evaporative canister and valve, which purges gasoline fumes from the gas-tank, was wonky, and needed to be replaced.
400 smackaroos, but no more “check-engine” light.
The CR-V passed inspection today (Wednesday, March 24, 2010).

• “Ontario Honda” is the Honda car-dealer just north of Canandaigua. (“Canandaigua” [“cannon-DAY-gwuh”] is a small city nearby where we live in Western NY. The city is also within a rural town called “Canandaigua.” The name is Indian, and means “Chosen Spot.” —It’s about 15 miles away.)
• “Penfield” (“penn-feeld”) is a suburb east of Rochester, NY.
• RE: “Living out here.....” —We live in the small rural town of West Bloomfield in Western NY, southeast of Rochester. Before that we lived in Rochester.
• The “mighty Mezz” is the Canandaigua Daily-Messenger newspaper, from where I retired over four years ago. Best job I ever had.
• The “Democrat & Chronicle” is the daily morning newspaper based in Rochester.
• RE: “Honeoye Falls MarketPlace......” — “Honeoye (‘HONE-eee-oy’) Falls” is the nearest village to the west to where we live, a rural village about five miles away.”MarketPlace” is a private supermarket therein.
• My wife of 42+ years is “Linda.” Like me she’s retired, but she once worked part-time at the West Bloomfield post-office. She retired as a computer programmer. She no longer works at the post-office.
• Cellphone use is against-the-law in New York state.
• For 16&1/2 years (1977-1993) I drove transit bus for Regional Transit Service, the transit-bus operator in Rochester. My stroke October 26, 1993 ended that.

Hot-tee-TOT!

Photo by BobbaLew.

Happy dog.

Another bunnie-rabbit has met its demise in the jaws of our rapacious, blood-thirsty carnivore.
I returned home the other night (Thursday, March 18, 2010) about 10 p.m. From a meeting and was greeted by our prancing dog with a bunnie-rabbit in her mouth.
Hot-tee-TOT! Hot-tee-TOT! I got it, and you do NOT!
This is probably bunnie-rabbit number six.
Our dog wasn't a hunter when we got her, but has since learned the joy of hunting.
She's a rescue-dog, a product of a puppie-mill of sorts, where she had been kept as breeding stock.
She was only three when we got her, but had already had two litters of puppies,
She was a very high-energy dog. I remember a couple from Penfield wondering why we should ever want such a monster.
“We just had one,” I said.
But Scarlett is probably even more high-energy, and bigger and therefore stronger.
By getting a rescue-dog, we avoid puppydom, although such a dog is often messed up.
Scarlett isn't too bad, just poorly socialized, and an extreme puller.
I could bust her of that, but am not so inclined.
The dog is already messed up. I don't want to mess her up even more.
Scarlett is an Irish-Setter. Every dog we've had was an Irish-Setter. Scarlett is Irish-Setter number six.
All our dogs became hunters, although one was more placid and into hunting frogs.
I was walking dog number-one at Cobbs Hill Park back in the late '70s, when all-of-a-sudden BAM; she dispatched a squirrel.
I promptly gave up; it was too late anyway.
Plus this is what dogs are all about; domesticated to help the humans find game.
Teamwork; our fabulous eyes teamed with their fabulous nose and ears.
Our dog has a slew of toys, all furry like critters.
My wife purchased a window-washer with a furry brush, and our dog immediately tried to grab it.
“That's not a toy, Scarlett.”
Our first dog nailed probably at least 30 squirrels, and who knows how many mice and moles, etc.
And that was despite getting hit by a car, which nearly killed her.
We always kept her tied up outside while at work.
She'd sit in the backyard and patrol the overhead utility lines.
“Squirrely on the wire,” I'd shout.
Ears up, on the alert, she'd run back-and-forth under the wire, in case a squirrel fell.
Our neighbor had a pet rabbit. They'd let it ramble loose around their yard.
Our dog would eye it.
“That rabbit strays into our yard, and it's dead meat,” I'd say.
They also had a pet dog.
“Oh, Noel would never hurt that rabbit,” they'd say.
“Noel is not our dog,” I'd respond.
Our other neighbor kept a pile of abandoned lumber and plywood behind his garage.
Feral cats lived in there.
Our dog would go back and serenade that lumber-pile for hours.
Our second dog, by then in West Bloomfield, became weak and crippled as she got old.
Despite that she caught a rabbit.
Her nose still worked fine.
She'd go into an adjacent weed-field and hoover the ground, sniffing for moles and mice.
She nabbed quite a few.
Every week we were tossing some dead critter into our trash.
The trash men probably thought we were into animal sacrifice.
Our fifth dog developed cancer.
Despite that, he nabbed a chipmunk.
Chipmunks are hard to catch, fast and elusive.
“Look what I got, Boss!”
He's buried with a toy goose he used to carry.
Speaking of geese, here we are in a nature preserve, and dog number-three is prancing around with a limp gosling in her mouth.
Our backyard is surrounded with five-foot chain-link fence.
“If a rabbit gets in there, it's dead meat,” I say.
They can't escape.
Scarlett had to run everywhere, but she got it.

• “Our” is I and my wife of 42+ years.
• “Penfield” (“penn-feeld”) is a suburb east of Rochester, NY. We used to live in Rochester, but now live in the small rural town of West Bloomfield in Western NY, southeast of Rochester. (We picked up Scarlett in Buffalo — she's from Ohio Irish-Setter Rescue.)
• “ Cobbs Hill Park” is a large partly wooded park in Rochester.

Pontiac!

Look at those glorious alloy wheels; only Pontiac had them.

“If you grew up in the '50s and '60s, you know what real performance cars are.”
So says the owner of a '61 Pontiac Catalina two-door hardtop in my May 2010 issue of Hemmings Classic Car magazine — #68.
The issue is doing a full treatment of Pontiac.
I grew up in the '50s and '60s, and indeed Pontiac was the siren-song of performance.
And to me the 1961 model is the apogee of the breed.
And the 1961 Catalina pictured reflects consummate taste.
It's four-on-the-floor, and the 348 horsepower 389 engine.
Not the killer 421, but a monster.
It's amazing to think before the 1955 model-year, Pontiac was a GrandPop's car, like the '52 Chiefton pictured at left.
Pontiac was introduced in 1926 as a cheaper companion to GM's Oakland, much like Cadillac's LaSalle.
But unlike LaSalle, it succeeded; enough where Oakland was abandoned.
At first it was a small step up from Chevrolet; a Chevrolet, but with a large fluted chrome center-strip on the hood and trunk, and a different motor.
The Chiefton pictured has a straight-eight flat-head.
Even Chevrolet's Stove-Bolt six was overhead-valve.
Pontiac was foundering, so Bunky Knudson (“NUDE-sin”) was brought in to stoke the breed.
Knudson was a hot-rodder, and wanted to hot-rod Pontiac.
A new V8 motor was brought to market in the 1955 model-year, but Knudson still had a long way to go.
The chrome trim-strips disappeared in the 1957 model-year, as did the lighted clear amber hood ornaments of Chief Pontiac.
Pontiac was shedding its droll image.
Triple two-barrel carburetion was made made available in 1958, and Pontiacs raced NASCAR.
Unfortunately, the '58 Pontiac was the bloated car introduced in 1957 as GM's Buick/Oldsmobile/Cadillac. Pontiac went with it for 1958, as did Chevrolet, a dreadful mistake.
The '59 Pontiac was even worse, but they debuted Wide-Track, essentially widening the tracking of the wheels so the cars cornered better.
The '59 Pontiac was ugly, but entrant Smokey Yunick started winning NASCAR races with driver Fireball Roberts.
1960 looked much better, fabulous.
But 1961 was better still, the best-looking Pontiac of all time.
By now, Knudson had transformed Pontiac into a hot-rod that appealed to youth.
I was so smitten I suggested my father get a '61 Pontiac, and was summarily laughed out of our house.
Automobiles were mere transportation, and my father only bought used.
A new Pontiac would be reprehensible; representative of rebellion.
The transformation was complete; so successful a high-school friend went to work for Pontiac.
He too had been smitten, plus his father bought a 1962 389 Pontiac four-door hardtop — not as gorgeous as the '61, but a Pontiac.
He claimed it was capable of 140 mph — 140 on the clock, but probably 125 or so.
He worked for Pontiac his whole life, but now Pontiac is gone.
Is it any wonder the first musclecars were Pontiacs; the G-T-O?
Pontiac tried to maintain the image Knudson left it with, but it was always a gussied up Chevrolet.
Yet compare a '61 Pontiac to a '61 Chevrolet, and I'd take the Pontiac, even if the Chevy was a 409.

• 389 or 421 cubic-inch engine displacement. A 421 is HUGE.
• 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 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.
• “Triple two-barrel carburetion” is three two-barrel carburetors in a row, fueling the engine. Usually an engine had only one carburetor, but triple deuces (so-called) enhanced engine breathing; but they were very hard to synchronize — get to work together. Triple deuces were a hot-rodding move. Often an engine had two four-barrel carburetors; although carburetors were enlarged so much, a single four-barrel could equal the breathing capacity of multiple carburetors.—Carburetors are no longer used. They are too sloppy. They were replaced by fuel injection, which is more precise.
• “GM” is of course General Motors.
• “On the clock” is of course on-the-speedometer; and speedometers at that time were notoriously optimistic.
• RE: “ 409.....” —During the 1961 model-year, Chevrolet introduced a 409 cubic inch displacement enlargement of their 348 truck motor. It was hot-rodded, and used to drag-race. (Drag-racing is start-to-finish over a quarter-mile.) —The 409 was a major step forward for drag-racing; the first time a manufacturer crossed the 400 cubic-inch barrier. But the 409 was overkill; its 348 base had been enlarged so much, it could be defective. Chevrolet replaced the 348 with its Big-Block V8. (The Chevrolet “Big-Block” was introduced in the 1965 model-year at 396 cubic-inches. It was made in various displacements: 402, 427 and 454 cubic inches. It’s still made as a truck-motor, but not installed in cars any more; although you can get it as a crate-motor, for self-installation. The Chevrolet “Small-Block” V8 was introduced at 265 cubic-inches displacement in the 1955 model-year. It continued production for years, first at 283 cubic inches, then 327, then 350. Other displacements were also manufactured.)

NRHS

The other night (Thursday, March 18, 2010) I attended the regular monthly business meeting of the Rochester Chapter of the nationwide National Railway Historical Society (NRHS).
I'm a railfan, and have been since age two — I'm 66.
The National Railway Historical Society has been around since 1935, as has its Rochester Chapter, founded in 1937.
I just received my 25-year pin. I joined in 1985, primarily to receive their newsletter, in hopes of keeping track of any local railfan excursions.
I had just missed one behind restored Nickel Plate steam-locomotive #765 — at least two long mainline trips from Buffalo to Corning, NY, and back over a weekend.
How useful that newsletter has been is debatable.
Most times I never get to peruse the newsletter.
It comes every month and gets laid aside.
A year-or-two ago I joined chapter members on a bus-trip down into PA for a dinner-train excursion on Tioga Central (“Tie-OH-guh;” as in “oh”)
Tioga Central is a tourist-line that operates what remains of New York Central's old line to Williamsport.
It ends at Wellsboro, short (north) of Williamsport.
The railroad is also moving freight, a shortline operator.
For years I have been unable to attend Chapter meetings. They are the same night as the regular monthly business meetings of my old bus-union.
For 16&1/2 years I drove bus for Regional Transit Service in Rochester, NY, the supplier of transit-bus service in the Rochester area.
During that time I belonged to Local 282, the Rochester division of the nationwide Amalgamated Transit Union (“what's 'ATU?'”).
Despite my stroke long ago (October 26, 1993), which prompted my disability retirement from Transit, I continued to attend union meetings, partly because I could, and partly because there were always fireworks — blog material; yelling and screaming and noisy bellowing for order.
But mainly because during my final year of bus-driving, I started doing a voluntary union newsletter, and thereby became heavily involved in my union.
But our union local has been trusteed; headquarters in Washington DC has taken over and thrown out our local union officials.
This scotches the monthly local union business meeting — I can attend the meetings of the Rochester Chapter of the NRHS.
The meeting was announced for 7 p.m., which came and went.
Even past 7:30 old geezers kept tottering in.....
“Hiya, Fred; how ya doin'?”
“I'd lay track but my cardiologist won't let me,” said Fred.
It seemed to be a congregation of geezers. It was held at the Rochester 40&8 club, apparently a nationwide WWII veterans organization.
More and more geezers stumbled in, most carrying drinks they had purchased from the 40&8 bar. Old-fashioned brown-glass bottles of beer, usually “Honey-Brown.”
I was just sitting quietly with my hands folded.
I found myself surrounded by glaring laptop computers.
I wasn't paying much notice, when all-of-sudden “Ta-DAAAA;” the sound of an Apple Macintosh computer firing up.
“I hear a MAC,” I said, and noticed the young recording-secretary at the dias had a MAC.
He smiled.
My all-knowing blowhard brother-from-Boston, who noisily badmouths everything I do or say, tells me I'm stupid, and disgusting, and reprehensible, and above-all of-the-Devil, because I prefer my MAC.
I should become a tub-thumping Conservative Republican and use the same PC Jesus uses, and worship Bill Gates. (Huzza-huzza!)
So whenever I notice a MAC, which is fairly often, I point it out.
(He has an Apple iPod, and loves it.)
Well, I've used plenty of PCs over time, and they appear to have become equal to MACs. Used to be they were bog-slow driving Photoshop®, but not any more.
I switched to MAC many years ago, when the mighty Mezz computerized with MACs.
Since then I have gotten used to Apple's OS-X operating-system, and prefer it over Microsoft Windows®.
It's probably equal, but OS-X is prettier. Windows-Seven seems an imitation.
So I stick with my MAC, despite the noisy blustering from Boston.
The meeting was finally called to order.
BORING.....
Various reports were trotted by — seconded, approved (“aye”).
A slew of committee reports had to entertained.
“One baggage-light in our Empire State Express coaches is now working; 26 more to go.
I had to buy a new fluorescent ballast, plus remove paint and shielding; but it works,” reported a spark-plug.
Most there were in their 70s, but two were in their early 40s, and appeared to be the mover-and-shakers.
The recording-secretary looked about 27; MAC-user means young hipster.
Another dude was in his early 30s. Another in his late 40s.
Some of the committee heads were in their early 70s, but seemed pretty spry.
And that includes bull-work, like laying track, and carrying heavy items.
The Rochester Chapter has built its own railroad, although it's rather rudimentary.
They also built a large maintenance shed, and have a small collection of operable railroad equipment — including locomotives,
If a local locomotive gets retired, the Rochester Chapter snags it.
As such, they can operate tourist trains over their small railroad, usually just cabooses.
A full scale Lionel set.
Plus they're near a transportation museum, which has trolley-cars.
Trolley-wire has been strung to operate the trolleys over the railroad.
The Rochester Chapter bought an old Erie Railroad station in 1971 on Erie's Rochester branch, partly abandoned, but what remains is owned and operated by the Livonia, Avon & Lakeville shortline.
That station has been restored, and is the Rochester Chapter's main stomping grounds.
The LA&L is still active next to it.
“We currently have almost 200 members,” the Chairman said. “If each one became a docent every eight years, we'd have enough,”.
“How come we never get any docents?” a member asked.
A docent is one who interfaces with the visiting public. The Rochester-Chapter is also a museum.
It's because our lives are so full, we can't chance the time.
Docents are an unpaid voluntary position.
Nice idea; chew the fat with Johnny and Stew, but I got errands to pursue.
Finally the business portion of the meeting adjourned. Next was a 20-minute intermission, a chance to go to the bathroom and reload at the bar.
Amidst all the quiet milling around, an ancient movie-screen from the '50s was set up on its collapsable tripod legs.
One of the 40-year-old movers-and-shakers was gonna display all his old black-and-white train-photos from the '70s and '80s.
The whole reason I had gone; pictures from north Jersey.
Room-lights extinguished, the show began — although there was a bit of new technology at play.
It appeared to be a PowerPoint presentation; the mover-and-shaker was displaying items from his laptop.
Still boring, somewhat. Diesels upon diesels, and I never can make sense of north Jersey railroading.
89 bazilyun railroads are accessing the Hudson across from New York City, although only Pennsy crossed the river, but with tunnels too small to pass freight.
Just about every railroad from the west accessed the Hudson: Erie, Lackawanna, Jersey Central, others by trackage rights, and a slew of fairly obscure railroads.
Even New York Central accessed the western shore of the Hudson when it got the West Shore.
An example of an obscure railroad is Susquehanna, one I was unfamiliar with.
But apparently Susquey was the first to offer doublestack service into the New York area, plus it could run through all the way to Buffalo on the old Erie, which had originally been built to a six-foot gauge.
89 bazilyun pictures of Susquehanna power, and everything seemed distorted.
Height was probably right, but all the pictures seemed squished horizontally; not obnoxious, but noticeable.
So that a six-axle SD40-2 looked as short as a Geep, and the Geeps looked weird.
“What we have here is a U-34B on the Erie boot-line,” he'd say.
“Huh?” I'd think. “How many lines did Erie have into the area, and what were they?”
“This is where the old Lackawanna Railroad electrified commuter-line ended, or was abandoned to the north,” he said. “North of here the railroad was crossed over to a parellel railroad and that was electrified.
This poor thing left a two-foot rail-burn.” —A tiny 70-ton locomotive was shunting 89 bazilyun loaded stack-cars in a railroad yard. It was so small, it had spun its drive-wheels trying to move the cars.
“Tread in here now, and ya get arrested,” he said, depicting the locomotive shops of Susquehanna. “Back then they didn't care.
Those are silent ex-BN E8s; they were being prepped for Chicago,” He said. You could tell by the plywood over the windows.
“I just needed to take a picture, and here we have a parked Jordan spreader, another case of something to shoot at.
I always carried two cameras; one black-and-white, and one color slides,” he said. “The magazines always told us only black-and-white prints; they never printed color, just the cover back then. I'd buy black-and-white film in bulk, rolled it myself, and developed it myself.”
I did the same; in fact, the very first picture I had published nationally was in Trains Magazine back in 1971.
It was okay, and it wasn't distorted.
Something was wrong with the presentation.
Not worth worrying about, except to a perfectionist.
I'da dickered with it. It ain't right. That thing better look right because it reflects me.
Them pictures better display right, or there'll be hell to pay.
Meeting over, we all paraded to the parking-lot.
“Time to get my sportscar,” said someone.
“Wha'dja get this time, Vern?” another asked.
“Nuthin' special; just a Mazda Miata” (“mee-AH-duh”), a two-seat roadster like sportscars were in the '60s.
In the parking-lot the chairman, probably in his 70s, fired up his GT Mustang.
Two gold racing stripes on the hood, each about a foot wide.
A really butch-looking car.
Hooray for him.
That someone in his 70s would get such a car makes my getting something similar plausible.
Only trouble is such a car, attractive as it is, ain't All-Wheel-Drive.
In fact, a Mustang is Rear-Wheel-Drive. Such a car would get stuck in the snow.
Buy a Mustang, and I gotta blow my driveway out.
With All-Wheel-Drive I can let it go.
I guess I gotta keep riding motorcycle; my two-wheeled sportscar — that'll dispatch just about anything.
“So was it worth going to?” my wife asked, as I pulled in our garage.
“No,” I answered.
“Wouldja go again?”
“Maybe at 8 o'clock or so, after the business meeting; if the topic is interesting.
Not as good as rammin' around with Faudi ('FOW-dee;' as in 'wow').”

• “What’s ‘ah-two?’” is something my mother asked seeing my ATU (Amalgamated Transit Union) button.
• “Lionel” is a supplier of inexpensive toy model-trains. They were very popular in the late '40s and '50s, and are still in business,
• “Photoshop” is a computer software application for processing photographs and bit-map art.
• 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 “Empire State Express” was a New York Central Railroad train from Buffalo to New York City (across the “Empire State”). It used fluted stainless-steel streamlined equipment, and the Rochester Chapter has gotten a few of the coaches. They are for excursion service. —The so-called “baggage light” was a fluorescent fixture in the brackets that held the baggage rack. The Empire State Express was significant for having fluorescent fixtures.
• “Pennsy” is the Pennsylvania Railroad, no longer in existence. It merged with New York Central Railroad in 1968 as Penn-Central, and that tanked in about eight years. “Pennsy” was once the largest railroad in the world.
• The “West Shore” was a line financed by the Pennsylvania Railroad built to compete directly with the New York Central Railroad in New York state in the late 1800s. It was merged with NYC at the behest of J.P. Morgan, who got all the warring parties together on his yacht in Long Island Sound. The NYC got the West Shore for no longer financing the proposed South Pennsylvania Railroad (which was graded but never built, including tunnels, which were incorporated into the Pennsylvania Turnpike). It was called the “West Shore” because it went up the west shore of the Hudson River. It’s been largely abandoned west of the Hudson, although the segment around Rochester became a bypass around Rochester.
• “Double-stack” is two trailer containers stacked two high without wheels in so-called “wellcars.” —It’s much more efficient than single containers (or trailers) on flatcars, since it’s two containers per car. It’s often the same shipping containers shipped overseas; where they may be stacked three or four high, or even higher if a support deck is under a stack. But “double-stacks” require very high clearance; over 20 feet. Bridges had to be raised, and tunnels made larger.
• The standard gauge between rails is four feet eight and one-half inches, what most railroads are nowadays. Erie was built to a six foot gauge, but eventually went standard-gauge. Narrow-gauge is three feet between railheads. Most narrow-gauge railroads were built where extensive grading needed to be avoided, e.g. Colorado. Narrow-gauge could have tighter curves. Few narrow-gauge railroads are left. —Six-foot gauge had more side-clearance, and Erie had higher bridge clearances, and no tunnels; which allowed doublestacks without modification.
• The “ SD40-2” is a six-axle (Special-Duty) diesel-electric locomotive. A “Geep” is a four-axle diesel-electric locomotive (“GP”). All were built by Electromotive Division (EMD) of General Motors, and are quite common.
• A “ U-34B” is a model of General Electric's Utility (“U”) series (a road-switcher), “B” indicating four-axles (two-axle trucks).
• RE: “BN E8s.....” —BN is Burlington-Northern railroad, which has since merged with Santa Fe (BNSF). The E8 series were double-engine passenger locomotives built by EMD. They had three-axle power trucks, but only two axles each were powered. 2,000 horsepower, 1,000 horsepower per engine; but two engines. The ex BN E8s eventually went into service in Chicago's transit district.
• A “ Jordan spreader” is a snow-plow, but with extendable wings to clear a path much wider than the actual railroad; wide enough for a train. Jordan spreaders are unpowered, and are pushed by locomotives.
• Phil Faudi is the railfan extraordinaire from Altoona (“al-TUNE-uh”), PA, who supplies all-day train-chases for $125 around the Altoona area, location of Horseshoe Curve. I’ve done three. 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. Railfan overload. —Horseshoe Curve (the “mighty Curve”), west of Altoona, PA, is 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’ve been there hundreds of times, since it’s only about five hours away.

Toto has done it again

Photo by BobbaLew.

“Toto, I don’t think we’re in Kansas any more.”

Good old Toto has done it again.
“Toto” is our supposedly fantabulous Toto lo-flo toilet, which was installed to replace a toilet 20 years old partially blocked by salt-deposits.
Okay, it's a lo-flo toilet, so occasionally it won't compute.
I hafta double-flush it, which negates the lo-flo, but as a lo-flo toilet it's impressive.
It flows like Niagara Falls for a short time; but too short to fully flush sometimes.
That short torrent is usually enough to make it compute, but I can't chance it.
Goodbye water conservation.
Beyond that, it occasionally won't shut off.
Sometimes the flapper-valve doesn't seal, and Toto fills forever.
So, combine plugging with not shutting off, and we have a deluge all over our bathroom floor.
My wife and I are both 66; we won't be able to mop up such catastrophes forever.
“At least it's clean water,” she says; overflow from not shutting off.
But not potable, except to our dog.
“You think I should call the plumber?” she asked; the guys who installed it.
“Well, I guess so,” I said.
Toto has really done it this this time.
We have to watch it like hawks; monitor each flush, and make sure it shuts off.
Our supposedly reprehensible American-Standard, 20 years old, doesn't need such monitoring.

• My wife of 42+ years is “Linda.”
• Our current dog is “Scarlett;” a rescue Irish-Setter. She’s almost five, and is our sixth Irish-Setter. (A “rescue Irish Setter” is an Irish Setter rescued from a bad home; e.g. a puppy-mill. By getting a rescue-dog, we avoid puppydom, but the dog is often messed up.)

Skype

“Ugh!” I said. “Another web-cam interview.
They keep doing that, and they're gonna lose this kid,” I said.
A web-cam interview is for the interviewee to park themselves in front of their computer-cam, and stare earnestly into it while being questioned by the interviewer, e.g. the national TV media.
My new laptop has a computer-cam.
Worse yet are the Skype interviews.
The other night a Toyota owner aimed his Skype at himself behind the wheel of his Prius so the TV-news could interview him.
“This is what TV-news reportage is coming to,” my wife declared.
“Cameras are so cheap and available, video crews have been let go. Let the reporter do his own video.”
“Yeah, but you can always tell these web-cam interviews,” I said.
“Poorly lit and all washed out, with no regard for production values. That Skype in that Toyota was awful.
And computer-cams are all wide-angle. They hafta be. They're two feet from the subject. Telephoto so it looks natural, and ya might get a nose.”
So whatcha get is a washed-out distorted wide-angle picture.
I thought of my friend Paul Long, who used to be Sports-Editor at the mighty Mezz.
He now is a newspaper-guy living in southern VA, but more management.
“What I dread more than anything is my bosses handing me a camera,” he Facebooked me. “I'm a writer, not a video-person.”
Over the past 30 years I've watched TV video get a lot better.
Sharper and more vibrant.
I didn't even get a color TV until about 25 years ago, because I felt it wasn't worth it.
Color TV looked awful back then.
30 years of progress, suddenly reversed by web-cam and Skype.

• “This kid” is of course me.
• My wife of 42+ years is “Linda.”
• 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.)

St. Patrick's Day Parade

(Photo by BobbaLew.)

We did not march our Irish Setter in the St. Patrick's Day parade in Rochester yesterday (Saturday, March 13, 2010).
The picture above is from two or three years ago, when the sun shone on the parade.
But when I fired up my MyCast® weather-radar on this computer, I could see a gigantic green rain-shield quickly approaching Rochester.
So we consulted our dog.
Which would it be? -A) Stand around for hours in a cold rain waiting for the parade to start, followed by three miles of sheer terror threading a screaming crowd and staggering drunks guzzling beer, skirling bag-pipes in front, wailing sirens to the rear; or -B) Hunting critters at Boughton Park.
Her answer was obvious; I had a jumping-bean in my face.
“Park! Park! Take me to the park! Let's boogie!”
“But it's your duty as an Irish Setter to march in the St. Patrick's Day parade.”
“Park! Park! Take me to the park! Let's boogie!”
We have marched in that parade four times over the past five years.
Once was a blizzard; we didn't go.
The crowd loves it. “Oh look, Maudy; the Irish Setters. I want one! Can I pet your dog?”
“Yippee! Discarded hot-dog rolls. CHOMP! Found food is always best.”
First time was in front of Metro Ambulance; sirens at full wail.
Second time was behind a dusty black extended '57 Chevy sedan, crammed with buxom young tarts sporting green metallic hair.
Last year was behind little girls dancing the Irish jig atop a big flat-bed trailer to music boomed through large speaker-horns.
My start blogging goes back to my report on that first parade five years ago.
Volunteer firemen were openly urinating on the lawns of East Ave. gentry.
I encountered a big mustachioed lug in a kilt quaffing a large tankard of foaming amber. Goosebumps were on his knees.
Last year at parade-end we overheard people in the crowd.
“Okay, we've seen the Irish Setters. Can we go home now?”

• “Scarlett” is our current dog; a rescue Irish-Setter. She’s almost five, and is our sixth Irish-Setter. (A “rescue Irish Setter” is an Irish Setter rescued from a bad home; e.g. a puppy-mill. By getting a rescue-dog, we avoid puppydom, but the dog is often messed up. Scarlett isn't too bad; just not socialized.)
• “Metro Ambulance” is a private supplier of ambulance service in Rochester. Ambulance service in Rochester is not public.
• “East Ave.” is a main street from downtown to the eastern border of Rochester. It has many ritzy residences.

“Elegant” equals a challenge

“Welcome to Macintosh,” the manual says.
It came with my new MacBook Pro computer.
I already had a MAC, a seven-year-old twin-processor G4 tower.
I've driven MACs for years, ever since the mighty Mezz computerized with MACs about 2000.
“Do you want me to set up an AppleMail account?” a friend asked.
He had come to set up my new MacBook Pro.
“The reason I never did is because I thought it was a web-mail,” I said.
“I use Netscape's e-mail; it directly accesses the great e-mail server in the sky.”
“So does AppleMail,” he said. “It's not a web-mail.”
So we went about setting up AppleMail.
We imported my Netscape address-book, except later I noticed an address was missing.
No problem. I'll just add it myself. It's only one address.
Should be simple, but guess what! No “add-new-address” button.
Access AppleMail's help thingy, but no indication of how to add an address.
With Netscape e-mail it was slam-dunk; a new-address button.
Apply old waazoo; “Try this and see what happens.” (Beep-Boop!)
There was something about adding the address of an e-mail just sent, so even though it was roundabout I tried that.
VIOLA! The address appeared in my address-list, but it was wrong; “.com” instead of “.net.”
Okay; the address is in there incorrect, so “edit” it.
But how?
No edit button.
Meanwhile, my wife is madly trying to Google a solution in the other room.
This usually works.
“It says here AppleMail is one of three apps that all work together as one: “Address-Book,” “AppleMail” and “iCalendar.”
I fire up my Address-Book, and fire up the errant address.
Lo, an edit button, but “edit” is not showing me anything like my old Netscape.
Netscape showed me the so-called “address-card,” and let me change things.
With Address-Book the “card” is off in Never-Neverland.
So I delete the errant address — it let me do that.
Next is create a new address-card.
Netscape let me do that with a simple button, but with Address-Book it's a menu-bar item.
The old waazoo; “Try this and see what happens.”
HELLO; I created a new “address-card,” correct; whomped it at last!
“Boy, we sure had to dance around Robin Hood's Barn,” I said.
“This AppleMail is a hairball — my ancient Netscape 7.2 e-mail, probably 10 years old, was dead simple,” I said.
“An 'elegant' solution to the e-mail problem,” my wife says, quoting some Apple boilerplate.
“Uh-ohhhhh,” I thought. “I prefer 'simple' to 'elegant.'”

• 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.)

Not a bun

At long last, after at least nine months of threatening to do so, my wife has an appointment with a hairdresser.
The delay was because our long-time hairdresser disappeared.
His wife died, leaving him with all the things she had done to keep up his beauty-shop.
Beyond that, he was getting old, and his hands were getting arthritic and painful.
I stopped getting permanents to give him a break.
He remarried and split, and put his shop up for sale.
A stylist who worked part-time in his shop was lassoed into cutting my hair.
He seemed okay, but my wife was afraid of going to him.
So the schtick in her case was to find a new hairdresser.
First she was considering some guy in Bloomfield, recommended by her boss.
But that never panned out.
Consideration of this guy went on for months.
She began to look like Prince Valiant.
The other day a publication came from the Honeoye Falls Chamber of Commerce.
All businesses in Honeoye Falls were listed therein by duty.
She looked at hairdressers.
One was the hairdresser for elderly ladies at a nearby retirement center.
“Our most popular hairstyle is the bun. You might wanna consider that.”
I myself have difficulty making phonecalls because of my stroke, but my wife couldn't get up the nerve to call a hairdresser.
She looked more and more like Prince Valiant.
Chop it herself, and she gets the Prince Valiant look.
So finally she called someone other than the hairdresser for the elderly ladies.
“Just a cut,” she said.
We'll see what happens.

• My wife of 42+ years is “Linda.” Like me she’s retired, and she retired as a computer programmer.
• “Prince Valiant” is a cartoon character with a page-boy haircut. (Most readers wouldn't know who Buster Brown is.)
• “Honeoye (‘HONE-eee-oy’) Falls” is the nearest village to the west to where we live in western New York, a rural village about five miles away. ”Bloomfield” is the nearest village to the east; also about five miles away.
• I had a stroke October 26, 1993, and it slightly compromised my speech. (Difficulty putting words together.)

Try this and see what happens

For the past couple days, we have been parrying three new gizmos, a television, a combination DVR/VCR, and a new computer.
Every time we get a new gizmo we face the stroke-survivor problem, my compromised ability to comprehend arcane manuals.
What happens is my wife reads the manual, which prompts me to try this and see what happens.
I suppose it's the approach I had before the stroke, but I have to depend on it more since the stroke.
And there's no pressure, since my old computer still works just fine.
The new computer is fabulous. It's my old computer but much better.
Which means it's friendly. It didn't throw me for a loop as soon as I turned it on.
To some extent we are already computer-savvy, so we have some idea what is happening.
Beyond that, the husband of a friend, a guy who works at MAC Shack in Penfield, came over to set it up.
He essentially made the new computer my old computer.
My wife and I probably could have done this, but it wouldn't have been as simple or fast. I'm sure the guy has done it hundreds of times — us only recently when my wife got a new Dell® laptop PC.
The new TV and combination DVR/VCR weren't so friendly.
And with them we didn't have someone to help us set them up.
And with them we had pressure; our previous system was defunct.
The other night (Monday, March 8, 2010) my wife and I were parrying our new DVR/VCR; something about making “favorite” channels.
Zapped it; try this and see what happens.

“We” is my wife of 42+ years (“Linda”) and I.
• I had a stroke October 26, 1993.
• “Penfield” is a suburb east of Rochester, NY. “MAC Shack” is an Apple computer store therein. My new computer is an Apple Macintosh laptop, a MacBook Pro. My previous computer was an Apple Macintosh.

Here's lookin' atcha

Here's lookin' atcha. (Photo by BobbaLew.)

GG1 (“Gee-Gee-One”) #4896 (pictured above) is looking at me from the display on my new computer.
4896 is the desktop-picture on my new Apple iBook Pro laptop computer.
“Desktop-picture” is “wallpaper” to youz Windows users, who are in the majority.
4896 was also the desktop-picture on my prior machine, where all previous blogs were generated.
I'm a railfan, and have been since age two. (That's 64 years ago.)
The Pennsylvania Railroad's GG1 electric locomotive was the greatest railroad locomotive of all time, manufactured in the '30s and early '40s.
”GG1” because it's two 4-6-0 wheel arrangements connected by a central hinge. A 4-6-0 steam-locomotive in Pennsy parlance was their G series.
An original GG1 design was road-tested against a 4-8-4 R series electric locomotive, but the GG1 tracked more stably at speed.
139 examples were thereafter built, and turned out to be the greatest railroad locomotive of all time.
Industrial-designer Raymond Loewy (“LO-eeee;” as in “oh”) was brought in to improve the GG1's basic steeplecab design.
Lucky Strike cigarettes and the Coke bottle are both Loewy designs.
Loewy convinced the railroad to use an all-welded steel shell, instead of the original shell of riveted small panels.
He also improved the body curvature around the headllght, giving the engine a cyclops eye.
As a teenager, I saw many GG1s, living as I did in northern DE along what later became Amtrak's Northeast Corridor, the Pennsylvania Railroad's fabulous New York to Washington DC electrified line.
And every time I saw one it was doing 80-100 mph.
The GG1 could temporarily put 9,000 horsepower to the railheads, which is extraordinary.
Temporary because at that rate its traction-motors would overheat.
In constant use a GG1 was rated about 4,000 horsepower.
Current single-unit diesel locomotive technology is around 4,000 horsepower.
In 1959 I rode behind a GG1 taking the “Congressional Limited” from Philadelphia south to Wilmington, DE.
27 cars, which with passenger equipment is a heavy train.
In no time we were boomin'-and-zoomin' at 80-90 mph.
The GG1 lasted over 40 years. The last was retired in 1983; that's almost 50.
A typical steam-locomotive might last 30 years; diesels about 20.
I saw 4896 many times, but only snagged this one photograph, at the maintenance shops in Wilmington, DE.
4896 is also the only GG1 I was shown through, in early 1966 at 1 a.m., at Washington Union Station.
I was there as part of a college seminar to consider government employ, but spent most of my time at Washington Union Station.
It was an epiphany; the GG1 was the greatest railroad locomotive ever.
So I long ago put 4896 on my computer desktop here at home.
I had other desktop pictures at the mighty Mezz.
The picture is from a scan of the negative done long ago at Visual Studies Workshop.
I've tried scanning the print, but it looks awful.


(Photo by Tom Hughes.)

So now 4896 is on my new laptop.
That makes it my computer.
4896 was scrapped, although 16 GG1s remain, but none are operable.
They had transformers inside that had to be drained of PCB-laden coolant.
Some were filled with concrete or sand.
A GG1 is in Syracuse, NY, #4933.
The best one remaining is #4935 at Railroad Museum of Pennsylvania, pictured above.

• 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.)
• “ Tom Hughes” is my brother-from-Delaware’s only son. Like me he's also a railfan.

Monthly Calendar Report for March, 2010

Uphill on Track One under Cassandra Railfan Overlook. (Photo by BobbaLew.)

—No doubt about it this time.
The March 2010 entry of my own calendar is the best and most dramatic picture in the entire calendar.
Two GE units hammering a doublestack up Track One at Cassandra Railfan Overlook.
It’s one of my few non-Faudi pictures, although Cassandra is a Faudi stop.
“Faudi” is Phil Faudi (“FAW-dee”), the railfan extraordinaire who lives in Altoona, PA, and gives all-day train-chases for $125.
I’ve done two.
Faudi monitors the Norfolk Southern operating frequency (160.8) with his radio scanner, and knows every train as the engineers call out the signals.
“14G, 241.7, Track One, Clear!”
That’s train 14G on Track One (eastbound) approaching the signal at milepost 241.7 — the one at the mighty Curve — and the signal is clear. The train can proceed.
The track ahead is clear; the train doesn’t have to stop or slow down.
The railroad also has unmanned automated defect detectors trackside that broadcast on the operating frequency after a train passes.
“Norfolk Southern milepost 253.1, Track Three, no defects.”
That’s the one at Lilly, PA, just east of Cassandra. One is approaching Cassandra on Track Three (west).
Faudi knows how long it will take to beat a train to a prime photo location.
The end result is a surfeit of trains.
Usually a wait is no longer than five minutes — alone I might wait hours.
Like a couple years ago where I waited a long time trackside in Summerhill, and no train.
Freezing!
Although the line is fairly busy, so I usually see one sooner-or-later.
Plus Faudi knows all the back roads and dirt tracks to get trackside.

Photo by BobbaLew.

Cassandra is not very photogenic.
Cassandra is an old coal town that goes clear back to the Pennsylvania Public Works System and its dreaded inclined planes.
It’s up in the Allegheny mountains.
I guess the railroad used to go through town, even Pennsy — there is a Railroad St.
But no more.
Pennsy straightened its western slope alignment, which involved a substantial cut near Cassandra.
That cut allowed PA highway engineers to build an overpass over the railroad into Cassandra.
The bridge is only one lane, wide enough to pass a Model A.
But rather substantial; a truss with a concrete deck.
But eventually the PA highway department was able to bypass Cassandra, and the old highway alignment and bridge was abandoned.
But the old bridge was never removed.
Railfans started congregating on it.
The mayor of Cassandra ran with it.
He started mowing the lawn around the old bridge, and put in benches and restaurant tables.
It became Cassandra Railfan Overlook, a place worth going to.
The picture is dramatic, but lacks sound.
I’ve therefore embedded a You-Tube video.

You can hear them coming — hammering up The Hill on Track One, or Two, in Run Eight.
WIDE OPEN!
All-of-a-sudden, the train bursts out of the cut, and under that bridge.
Under the bridge (see picture) is not very photogenic, and a curve west is past the bridge.
The train is just starting that curve — toward Lilly.
Cassandra requires “the cannon,” my telephoto lens at a full 300 mm.
I mount it to an old Rowi (“ROW-eee,” as in “ow.”) shoulder-grip I have, and then brace against a tree.
Hold it still, I hope.
That telephoto is so strong, it blurs if I jiggle it.
It needs a tripod.
But setting one up would ruin flexibility.
Plus I may not have time to set it up.
Just mounting that cannon to the shoulder-grip takes at least three minutes.
The photograph is a potshot. Some planning, but I never know what I’ll get.
This train was one of about six or seven.
My scanner kept popping off — “Milepost 258.9, Track One, no defects.”
So we hung around for every one.
I get two detectors at Cassandra; 253.1 at Lilly to the east, and 258.9 at Portage to the west.
Cassandra is in between, but closer to Lilly.
The train is hauling doublestacked J.B. Hunt containers, mostly 53 feet long.
They’re “domestic containers,” as opposed to “international containers,” which are 40 feet long.
40 feet is the standard length for shipping containers.
If it’s J.B. Hunt it’s probably Wal*Mart inventory.
Shipped by railroad doublestack.
You also see a lotta international containers; product from China that came through southern California.


1970 Boss 302 Ford Mustang. (Photo by David Newhardt.)

—The March 2010 entry of my Motorbooks Musclecars calendar is what I feel is the most collectible car of all time, a 1970 Boss 302 Ford Mustang.
Actually, it’s not the car I would want; that would be the 1970 Mustang Mach I with the 351 Cleveland motor.
Normally, I’m a Chevy man, but Ford put together a really great car.
It was at the instigation of Sports Car Club of America (SCCA) and its Trans-Am series.
The SCCA required a minimal build quantity of cars raced in its Trans-Am series, so Chevrolet built a racing Camaro, the Z28.
Z28 was the option number, but became the name.
The SCCA also had a size limit for Trans-Am V8s, 5 liters, 305 cubic inches.
The Z28 was 302 cubic inches, a 302 cubic inch version of the infamous Small-Block V8.
It went like stink, and won championships with entrant Roger Penske (“PENN-skee”) and driver Mark Donohue.

A Penkse-Donohue Camaro, but not the Donohue car.

Ford responded with the “Boss 302” in the 1969 model year, a special Mustang for Trans-Am racing.
The car was mainly a product of former GM employee Larry Shinoda.
The Cleveland V8 is special, made in Cleveland, OH.
It’s essentially the earlier Ford small V8 with high-performance cylinder-heads.
And they used a trick debuted on the Chevy Big-Block, made possible by ball-stud rockers.
Namely, the valves are splayed, making bigger valves possible, and almost a hemi head.
What really brought the Boss 302 to the fore is old NASCAR racer Bud Moore of Spartanburg, SC, who had previously raced Cougars as an entrant in the Trans-Am.
Moore applied his NASCAR tricks to the Boss 302, and made it supreme.
Moore’s cars were often faster than the Penske Camaro.
NASCAR wizardry applied to the tractor layout made it go like stink.
Moore also had Parnelli (“par-nelly”) Jones as a driver, and Jones gave no quarter.
Jones won the Indy 500 once.

Parnelli’s Moore Mustang.

I was halfway down a hill at Bridgehampton Sportscar Course on Long Island, years ago, and Jones and George Follmer (“FULL-mer”) in the second Moore Mustang were side-by-side on the lead row of two cars.
Race started, over the hillcrest they both came, flat-out at 165+ mph on the first lap, into the blind downhill turn.
“If your car’s not outta control,” Jones used to say; “you’re not driving fast enough!”
At the bottom of the hill, both cars bottomed their suspensions, and the rear track-bars threw up sparks.
I will never forget that as long as I live; that’s goin’ to my grave!
I suppose that image is what suckered me to the Boss 302.


Trash bucket.

—The March 2010 entry of my Oxman Hot-Rod Calendar is a distressed 1930 Ford Model-A five-window coupe with a chopped top.
There’s really only one thing wrong with this car, and that’s the radiator-grille, which was purloined off a farm-tractor.

A ‘32 Ford grille.

The grille of a ‘32 Ford is one of the best looking ever, and this car should have that instead.
The fact it’s distressed looks great.
A few years ago I attended a parade of classic farm tractors (see below).
Everything painted up pretty and glistening.
But the best one there was a rusty old Oliver that looked like it was still in use as a farm-tractor.
It had not arrived in an enclosed trailer.
It had been driven to the parade.
I don’t know if this is true of all Olivers, but this one the whole motor was encased.
A sheetmetal shroud encased the motor, and it was rusty and slathered with oil and grime.
Another fabulous machine was a rusty old Case without a muffler.
It had to be pulled by a glistening Johnny Popper to start it, but it lit; a cascade of glorious racket: BDAH-BDAH-BDAH-BDAH!

Photo by BobbaLew.

The car pictured has tractor rear wheels, and front wheels from an old International Harvester sickle mower.
I bit weird looking, but I can deal with them better than that radiator-grille.
The money is in the motor, a 329 cubic-inch ‘57 Chrysler Hemi with twin vintage McCulloch (Mik-KULL-uh”) superchargers.
It’s built to run on nitro.
I guess it’s not a drag car; more a lakester speed-record car. The rear tires are not drag slicks.
Thankfully, the restorers, owner Ken Ransford and builder Frank Bevaucqua, didn’t touch the body, shabby from years of disuse.
Except to fabricate a new trunklid to replace one removed when the car was converted to a pickup long ago.
That header passage in the front panel looks like it was cut with a hacksaw.


An eastbound J waits to leave town as a westbound Y6 with empty hoppers articulates into view; Roanoke, VA. (Photo by O. Winston Link.)

—The March 2010 entry of my O. Winston Link "Steam and Steel" calendar is a classic Link mood shot; not that good, but it demonstrates articulation.
We’re at the station in Roanoke, VA, location of the railroad’s offices, and a panting J (4-8-4) is waiting to take a train east.
Approaching westbound is a Y6 2-8-8-2 articulated with empty hopper-cars, and it demonstrates articulation.
An articulated engine has a hinge in its frame, so the front driver-set can bend into a turn.
Without that hinge the wheelbase of a 2-8-8-2 would be so long it couldn’t do curved track.
A crossover would derail such a locomotive.
The center drivers of a driver-set were blind — flangeless — to allow such an engine to handle curves.
Powering two driver-sets by one boiler requires articulation; the front driver-set must bend into a turn.
Although Pennsy’s T1 (4-4-4-4) wasn’t articulated. Four drive-pistons, but no hinge — a so-called “duplex.” —A Pennsy T1 couldn’t negotiate tight curvature.
The Norfolk & Western’s Y6 was also an exception; the only compound articulated that worked.
Compounding means using spent steam to power additional drive-pistons; e.g. the spent steam from the rear pistons powering the front pistons in an articulated.
Compounding was used in other applications; sometimes in regular unarticulated engines. E.g. -A) a center drive-piston (or pistons) powered by spent steam from the outside pistons; or -B) spent steam from one side powering the other side.
Sometimes a center piston(s) was powered directly by the boiler, just like the outside pistons.
But compounding didn’t work, nor did pistons inside the driver-set.
Most railroads converted their compound articulateds to “simple;” the boiler directly powering all piston-sets. Railroads converted multiple piston engines to just two outside, like others.
And valve-gear for drive-pistons inside the driver-set was too hard to maintain.

Photo by O. Winston Link.

(This picture was in last month’s calendar report.)

But Norfolk & Western made compounding work; far as I know, they were the only railroad that succeeded.
Compounding was popular at the turn-of-the-century, but by 1950 nearly all compound articulateds had been converted to simple, and the locomotive manufacturers were no longer building compounds.
Except Norfolk & Western’s Y series.
The headlight of an articulated is often mounted to the front driver-set frame, while the boiler is solidly mounted to the frame of the rear driver-set.
So as the locomotive works a curve, the headlight swings off-center of the boiler.
Which is what you see here. The headlight of the Y6 to the right of the boiler-front.
That Norfolk & Western J is also worth noting.
Arguably the pinnacle of steam-locomotive development.
And that’s despite drivers of only 70-inch diameter — biased toward the railroad’s hilly profile.
Most late passenger 4-8-4s used 80-inch drivers. Such an arrangement could boom-and-zoom.
72 inches is six feet. 80-inch drivers were taller than a man.
Norfolk & Western’s J had incredible steam capacity; it could maintain 100 mph cruising.
A steam locomotive without the steam capacity of a J would run out of steam trying to maintain 100 mph cruising.

Photo by BobbaLew.

N&W J #611, street-running through Erie, PA, on the old Nickel Plate. At that time (late ‘80s), 611 was the only J operating.

It was a HUGE boiler with a HUGE firebox with combustion-chamber.
The reason it could hold 100 mph with only 70-inch drivers was -A) that steam capacity, and -B) roller-bearings everywhere.
Most steam-locomotives with roller-bearings had them only in the axle-bearings.
But the J had not only that, but also in the drive-rods.
Most drive-rods and pins were plain bearings lubricated by grease.
But the J was all roller-bearings.
It rolled so freely, even a gang of girls could pull it.
Immensely heavy, but free-rolling.


YAK-3UA. (Photo by Philip Makanna©.)

—The March 2010 entry of my Ghosts WWII warbirds calendar is not one I’m familiar with.
I suppose that’s because it’s not American or British — or even German or Japanese.
It’s Russian, a Yak 3.
It was Russia’s fighter-plane, and fairly successful.
I had to consult my warbirds site.
“During the final two years of the Second World War, the Yak-3 proved itself a powerful dogfighter. Tough and agile below an altitude of 13,000 feet, the Yak-3 dominated the skies over the battlefields of the Eastern Front during the closing years of the war.
The first attempt to build a fighter called the Yak-3 was shelved in 1941 due to a lack of building materials and an unreliable engine. The second attempt used the Yak-1M, already in production, to maintain the high number of planes being built. The Yak-3 had a new, smaller wing and smaller dimensions then its predecessor. Its light weight gave the Yak-3 more agility. The Yak-3 completed its trials in October 1943 and began equipping in July of 1944. In August, small numbers of Yak-3s were built with an improved engine generating 1,700-hp, and the aircraft saw limited combat action in 1945. Production continued until 1946, by which time 4,848 had been built.”
I wonder about that 1,700 horsepower. Sounds like a misprint. The Mustang had 1,295 horsepower.
Farther down the horsepower is given as 1,300.
The airplane pictured is a cheater of sorts.
“The story of the Yak-3 did not end with WWII. In 1991, the Museum of Flying, in Santa Monica, CA, asked Yakovlev to produce a new series of Yak-3s to be built at Orenburg, Russia. The new Yak-3s were built using the plans, tools, dies and fixtures of the original. But they were powered by American Allison engines, and given the designation Yak-3UA.”
Well, it’s the right airframe, but an American engine.

Pennsylvania Railroad M1 #6140 heads east through Sunbury, PA with train EC-2 out of Renovo toward Enola. (Photo by Don Wood©.)

—The March 2010 entry of my Audio-Visual Designs black and white All-Pennsy Calendar is nothing special, one of Don Wood’s more plebeian shots.
But to my mind it captures the prime reason steam locomotion was so attractive; pickin’ ‘em up and layin’ ‘em down.
Power delivery in a steam locomotive is directly observable.
The pistons aren’t turning a crankshaft hidden inside an engine-block inside a body shroud.
It’s all right out in the open.
The drive-rods are worked by two pistons, one per side.
Those drive-rods are attached to pins on the driving wheels. The rods flash up and down with the rotating wheel.
Every rotation of those drive wheels works the pistons back-and-forth. With two drive-pistons (the customary arrangement), that’s four exhausts per wheel rotation, four beats to the bar, as Chuck Berry sang in “Johnnie B. Goode.”
“Strummin’ with the rhythm that the drivers made.....”
And Pennsy steam-engines were gorgeous; well proportioned and pretty.
It was two things:
—1) That red keystone number-plate on the smokebox front, and
—2) The Belpaire (“bell-pair”) firebox.
RE: —1) I don’t know whose idea that red keystone number-plate was, but I have a hunch Raymond Loewy had something to do with it.
To me it’s one of the first signature icons, comparable, yet better than the blue Ford oval.
Other railroads started using number-plate icons later; e.g. the Union Pacific shield.
But most didn’t — just circular. (Pennsy’s freight-engine number-plates were circular.)

Photo by BobbaLew.

I managed to pick up one (pictured at left) myself — although it’s not an actual number-plate. It’s a full-size plastic reproduction.
Pennsylvania-Reading (“RED-ding;” not “READ-ing”) Seashore Lines used both Pennsy and Reading steam-locomotives.
Reading’s were frumpy. I always looked for that red Pennsy keystone. It told me I was about the see a great-looking steam-engine.
RE: —2) The Belpaire firebox was hard to construct.
The roof of the Belpaire is flat; therefore not curved like the boiler courses.
Boiler curvature was usually extended back over the firebox.
Hips had to be constructed where the rear boiler-course met the firebox, to allow it to be square.
Supposedly the Belpaire firebox was more efficient.
Few railroads used it, mainly Pennsy and in Europe. (It was hard to build.)
Great Northern had engines with the Belpaire firebox.
My guess is it allowed greater firebox volume, which allowed more complete burning of the coal.
Plus it would have wider — more — heating area atop the firebox.
The Pennsy M1 has a Belpaire firebox; almost all Pennsy engines did.
The M1 was one of the most successful Pennsy engines, but sadly it’s 1920s.
Pennsy developed its own locomotive designs. They often farmed out building them — or built them themselves — but anything farmed out was a Pennsy design.
A question is why Pennsy never developed improved steam locomotives in the 30’s, or even improved steam locomotives in the late ‘20s.
Pennsy had two problems:
-A) Electrification, and
-B) A difficult route profile that needed drag engines.
Pennsy never got around to developing a high-capacity 4-8-4, and in fact had to shop around for WWII.
For WWII they were saddled with tired locomotives — they had to replace with a Chesapeake & Ohio 2-10-4 Lima SuperPower design; modified slightly to be their “J.” —As such, it didn’t have a Belpaire firebox.
The WWII war production board wouldn’t allow Pennsy development.
The M1 was designed to move both passengers and freight, but ended up moving mostly freight.
It’s drivers were only 72 inch. To boom-and-zoom on passenger trains, ya needed 80 inch.
Pennsy developed an 80-inch 4-8-4 after WWII — actually a 4-4-4-4 duplex, not articulated — but it wasn’t well developed. It could slip one driver-set, and it smoked.
In the picture, the M1 is in its prime, moving freight at speed.
The firebox grate is only 70 square feet, but the boiler is the same as the I1 Decapod, and the firebox has a long combustion-chamber. (The Dek was 70 square feet too, but no combustion chamber.)
The combustion-chamber is that long slab-sided extension ahead of the firebox grate into the boiler.
It allowed the coal to burn more completely.
And 460 is the Lindbergh Engine — an E6 Atlantic (4-4-2) that beat the airplanes getting film of Lindbergh’s return up to New York City.
At that time the railroad from Washington to New York was still steam-powered; it wasn’t fully electrified yet.
The contest was to see who could get newsreels of Lindy’s Washington return up to New York movie-theaters first.
Many of the press associations chartered airplanes to parachute the undeveloped films into New York City; e.g. Central Park.
But International News Reel chartered the Pennsylvania Railroad to deliver its film up to New York City, and their angle was they could develop their films en route in a converted baggage car.
And 460 won, by almost an hour. They got the films into New York theaters first.
“There was naught in the prior experience of steam propulsion to match” the speeds it had attained, my book says.
“Do you have any idea what 460 is?” the clerk asked when I bought that reproduction about 1970.
“Well of course I do. That’s the Lindbergh Engine,” I said.
460 still exists; Pennsy never scrapped it. They saved it as a significant example of the breed in their engine collection.
That collection made it to Railroad Museum of Pennsylvania across from the Strasburg Railroad tourist line.

(My new rig is here, and ready to boogie; but since most of this here report is in my old machine, I’ll probably finish on it.
Transferring to the new machine might involve horsing around.)

Ho-hum. (Photo by Jim Schmidt.)

—The March 2010 entry of my All-Pennsy color calendar is rather droll, another M1 Mountain (4-8-2), this one waiting for a signal outside Chicago.
It’s a lousy photograph, but I run it because my railfan readers would be incensed if I didn’t.
It’s lousy because of the light — the front of the engine is in shadow.
That gorgeous red keystone number-plate is lost.
But it’s a color picture of a Pennsy steam-engine, so throw it into the All-Pennsy color calendar.
#6808 is one of 200 Mountains built by Baldwin Locomotive Works in 1926. —Baldwin, but a Pennsy design.
As mentioned above, the M1 Mountain is probably the most successful Pennsy steam-engine — but a ‘20s design. Pennsy didn’t develop anything in the ‘30s.
One remains, #6755, preserved at a Railroad Museum of Pennsylvania. It was one of Pennsy’s historical collection; it was never scrapped.