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.
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| Photo by BobbaLew. |
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.
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| A Penkse-Donohue Camaro, but not the Donohue car. |
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.
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| Parnelli’s Moore Mustang. |
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.
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| A ‘32 Ford grille. |
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!
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| Photo by BobbaLew. |
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.
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| Photo by O. Winston Link. |
| (This picture was in last month’s calendar report.) |
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.
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| 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. |
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.)
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| Photo by BobbaLew. |
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.
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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.
Labels: Monthly Calendar Report
posted by BobbaLew at 5:38 AM
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