Monthly Calendar Report for March, 2011

Thunderbolt. (Photo by Philip Makanna©.)

—The March 2011 entry of my Ghosts WWII warbirds calendar is one of the most dramatic pictures photographer Makanna has ever taken, although his photographs of Lockheed P-38 Lightnings are also dramatic, as illustrated below.

Photo by Philip Makanna©.

Photo by Philip Makanna©.

It’s a Republic P-47 Thunderbolt, a concession to the Navy’s having developed so much horsepower out of the radial air-cooled engine.
The P-47 was affectionately known as “the Jug,” primarily because it was so big and sturdy.
The picture was taken at sunset, which allows orangish sunlight to illuminate the underside of the airplane.
The airplane had a double-row Pratt & Whitney R2800-59, 2,804 cubic-inches displacement in 18 cylinders, radially arranged in two rows of nine cylinders each, 2,235 horsepower.
Compare that to the P-51 Mustang, also a hotrod, but not as brutal. —1,649 cubic-inches, 1,695 horsepower.
Both airplanes could do over 400 mph in level flight, but the P-51 was more graceful.
It was the Navy that developed air-cooled radial engines.
Such an airplane would not suffer coolant leaks if shot up.
The Army Air Corps was partial to water-cooled V12 engines.
They don’t cause the aerodynamic drag of an air-cooled radial engine, which is big and bluff.
But the Navy got extraordinary power out of the air-cooled radial engine.
So much the Army Air Corps had to cave.
The Jug was the result.



At “AR.” (Photo by BobbaLew.)

―The March 2011 entry of my own calendar is of a Norfolk Southern freight-train on Track One at the top of The Hill over the Allegheny mountains.
You’ve seen it before. It was the February entry in last year’s version of my own calendar.
That’s because my 2011 calendar is one I did for Tunnel Inn, the bed-and-breakfast we stay at in Gallitzin (“guh-LIT-zin”) when in the Altoona (“al-TUNE-uh;” as in the name “Al”), PA area.
Altoona is the location of the Pennsylvania Railroad’s crossing of the Allegheny mountains, including Horseshoe Curve (the “Mighty Curve”), by far the BEST railfan spot I’ve ever been to. Horseshoe Curve is now a national historic site. It was a trick by the railroad to get over the Allegheny mountains without steep grades — the railroad was looped around a valley to stretch out the climb. Horseshoe Curve was opened in 1854, and is still in use. I am a railfan, and have been since age-two (I’m 67). The viewing-area is smack in the apex of the Curve; and trains are willy-nilly. Up-close-and personal. —I’ve been there hundreds of times, since it’s only about five hours away.
That 2011 calendar for Tunnel Inn crashed; the post-office lost the order.
We did a 2012 calendar for Tunnel Inn with the same pictures they can sell throughout the year.
There is a secret you should know about this picture.
It was taken through a small hole in chainlink fence lining the bridge overpass.
The photograph is cropped some, to crop out blurred fencing bleeding into the image, particularly on the left side.
The muddy blur wasn’t too bad, just there.
What you see is about two-thirds of the recorded image.
My digital camera is recording at 300 pixels-per-inch (“ppi”), a high-quality jpeg.
So I can crop quite a bit, yet get away with those razor-sharp signals depicted far away.
Lower ppi wouldn’t be as sharp.
My camera was helping me — and it’s not state-of-the-art.
It’s only a Nikon D100; Nikon’s first high-end digital camera. It’s almost 10 years old.
Nikon has even better digital cameras available now; I’m considering upgrading.
Yet I’m quite happy with this picture; that faraway signal-bridge is razor-sharp.
The lineside tower is “AR,” its original telegraph address.
Most Pennsy towers had telegraph addresses from the old telegraph communication era.
AR is closed; it has been for some time, but it wasn’t removed.
The building is used for track-maintenance storage.
Dispatching for the railroad is now done out of Pittsburgh.
(The CSX “Water-Level” route across New York is dispatched from Jacksonville, FL.)



Purest of the pure.

―The March 2011 entry of my Oxman Hotrod Calendar is a classic 1932 Ford hotrod, as first built in the ‘50s.
The only concession to modernity on this car is the SCoT supercharger atop the Flat-Head Ford V8 motor.
Other than that, this is a classic hotrod, as first built after WWII.
Hot-rodding was mainly a southern-California phenomena, because of -a) favorable weather, and -b) the surfeit of fittings, etc., for the Pacific war-effort, available as surplus after the war ended.
These fittings made it possible for people to build hotrods at not much expense, and favorable weather made it possible to tool around unhindered in open roadster hotrods.
The engine-of-choice was the Ford Flat-Head V8, flat-head because the engine was side-valve, like a current lawnmower engine; only it was water-cooled.
The Ford Flat-head V8 goes back to the 1932 model-year.
We can thank Old Henry for being anti-six.
He refused to build a six-cylinder motor, so introduced the Flat-head V8.
The Flat-head was rather sprightly, so hot-rodders started modifying it to bend even more power out of it.
Side-valve means the cylinder-valves are down in the engine-block, parallel to and beside the cylinders.
Breathing passages are contorted; a flat-head can’t breathe as well as overhead-valving.
The cylinder-head casting is flat.
A flat-head is an antique design; overhead-valving was more complex, yet produced more power.
This car is not southern California. Actually, it’s east-coast, debuted in Hartford, CT in 1958.
But it’s a classic hotrod, purest-of-the-pure.
It even has Chevy taillights, the small horizontals from the war era; the ones that look so perfect on a ’32 Ford.
The car is very well detailed, and even has cycle fenders.
Of particular note are the Oldsmobile flipper hubcaps, very much the rage at that time.
The car is a “LoBoy;” the January entry of my Oxman Hotrod Calendar was a “HiBoy” — illustrated at left.
A LoBoy is a car extensively lowered — it looks like the body-floor might have been channeled to lower the body on the frame-rails.
A HiBoy is at stock ride-height — at least in the rear — body atop the frame-rails as stock ’32 Fords were.
It looks like even the back end of this car was extensively lowered; the frame-rails modified so the rear-axle could sit higher relative to the frame.
The wheel-well curvature is thus obscured by the rear tire, but the curvature of the trunk-lid still matches the tire.
The prize is that motor; a Flatty, foundation of the hotrod movement.
In the ‘60s, rodders often swapped out the Flat-Head for a Chevy Small-Block, the motor that put the Flat-Head out to pasture.
Fortunately, that wasn’t done with this car.
This car is as hotrods were built originally, except for the supercharger.
It was capable of 130 mph in 1958!



(Photo by Don Woods.)

―The March 2011 entry of my Norfolk Southern Employees’ Photography Contest calendar is a Norfolk Southern coal-train crossing the Kanawha River (“kuh-NAH-wuh;” as in “not.”)
I wonder if this is the branch that crosses over Chessie at Deepwater, WV, originally Virginian?
If so, I’ve been under it, on a railfan excursion under that branch on Chessie.
I also have driven along it. It goes up into the hills lining the river valley, through a ravine.
Virginian is long-gone; merged in 1959 with Norfolk & Western, which was more successful.
Virginian was built to tap to same coal N&W tapped, although at first it was built to tap coal in rugged southern West Virginia.
It also was partly electrified. (A small portion of N&W was also electrified earlier.)
It was more modern (early 20th century), and had easier grading than N&W.
But connecting railroads refused to give it favorable rates — which explains why it was built all to way across Virginia to the Atlantic Ocean.
When Virginian was bought by N&W, some of Virginian’s lines were used — they were easier to operate.
At first there was Deepwater Railroad, perhaps that very same railroad I paralleled down that ravine to Deepwater, WV.
Deepwater Railroad was very short, and connecting railroads wouldn’t give it favorable rates. Norfolk & Western was the established power in the area.
The expectation was Deepwater Railroad would cave.
It didn’t.
Tidewater Railroad was created to get Deepwater’s coal across Virginia to Hampton Roads on the Atlantic coast.
Hampton Roads is the waterway between Hampton and Norfolk.
Deepwater and Tidewater merged into Virginian Railway which was incorporated in 1907 — the line was completed in 1909.
Virginian was much easier to operate than nearby Norfolk & Western, an amalgamation of earlier railroads in the area, not built like Virginian.
Virginian was much better at taking on the Appalachians. It had a few stiff grades, but they were electrified.
Virginian always made the capital investment necessary to maximize profitability. It ended up being “the richest little railroad in the world.”
Yet Norfolk & Western had the traffic-base.
Virginian became a desirable shipping alternative for Norfolk & Western’s coal.
So eventually Norfolk & Western bought Virginian, although it was more the federal Interstate Commerce Commission letting the merger happen.
Finally the ICC was encouraging railroads, versus competing transport modes, like trucks, barges, and proposed coal-slurry pipelines (none yet).
As originally set up, the ICC was to regulate the monopoly of transportation railroads once had.
The Kanawha River was eventually bridged, and this is it. —A northern outlet for Pocahontas coal.
The line is now Norfolk Southern, a merger of Norfolk & Western and Southern Railway in 1982.
Getting down to Deepwater is steep and arduous.
I don’t think the line interchanges with the old Chessie main (now CSX) along the Kanawha.
Chessie was one of the suitors.



Another hum-drum day on the Pennsy Trenton Cutoff. (Photo by Willis McCaleb.)

The March 2011 entry of my All-Pennsy color calendar is a brace of Pennsy box-cabs leading a freight on the Trenton Cutoff near Norristown, PA.
The 46-mile Trenton Cutoff was a bypass around Philadelphia.
It kept New York City bound freight out of Philadelphia; with its delays and congestion.
It was also called the “Thorndale Cutoff” because it merged with the Pennsy main out of Philadelphia out at Thorndale, PA west of Paoli (“pay-OLE-eeee”).
The Trenton Cutoff was freight-only.
Pennsy electrified most of its mainlines east of Harrisburg, including various freight-only lines.
That included Trenton Cutoff.
The Pennsy main was electrified from New York City to Philadelphia, then west to Harrisburg, and Washington DC to the south.
But other lines were also electrified, e.g. across the Susquehanna river into Enola (“aye-NOLE-uh”) yard west of Harrisburg, and also along the east bank of the Susquehanna down into Maryland.
Enola yard was the main marshaling-point for freight to-and-from the east.
The Trenton Cutoff was also electrified, since it bypassed Philadelphia.
I thought that electrification installation was forever, that it would never be de-energized.
But Conrail de-energized it in 1981, including the Trenton Cutoff.
Conrail succeeded Penn-Central after PC tanked. Penn-Central was a merger of the Pennsylvania Railroad with New York Central Railroad in 1968.
“Conrail” was a government amalgamation of east-coast railroads that went bankrupt pretty much at the same time as Penn-Central. Conrail included other bankrupt east-coast railroads, like Erie-Lackawanna and Lehigh Valley; but eventually went private as it became more successful. Conrail has since been broken up, sold to CSX Transportation Industries (railroad) and Norfolk Southern railroad. CSX got mainly the old New York Central routes, and NS got the old PRR routes, although NS also has the old Erie Railroad route across southern NY.
The old Pennsylvania Railroad New York City to Washington DC line eventually became Amtrak’s Northeast Corridor.
With that, freight to the New York City area found other routes. Conrail began using its Reading (“REDD-ing;” not “READ-ing”) and Central of New Jersey lines. Reading and CNJ were also a part of Conrail.
Freight via Conrail to New York City out of Harrisburg used the Reading line — the old Pennsy main was now Amtrak.
The Corridor and the line to Harrisburg remain electrified, but the Trenton Cutoff became unnecessary. Freight to New York City was no longer using the old Pennsy main.
Since Conrail was running diesel-locomotives through, electrification became unnecessary.
And so the grand experiment of Pennsy electrification became moribund.
Electrification has the advantage of allowing heavy train-frequency, but railroads weren’t operating that heavily.
Electrification also requires heavy investment in power delivery, and maintenance thereof. The overhead catenary (“KAT-in-air-eee;” called that because the overhead trolley-wire is suspended on a catenary of cables) has to be continually maintained. Amtrak has dedicated wire-trains on the Corridor, just to maintain the catenary.
About the only place electrification makes sense is the heavy train-frequency of the Northeast Corridor.
Freight-trains aren’t that frequent. Electrification may eventually make sense, if they become frequent.
The locomotives are box-cab P5 electrics (4-6-4), the locomotive that was to lead Pennsy passenger-trains on the electrified New York City to Washington DC line.
Except they were nowhere near as successful as the GG1 (“Jee-Jee-ONE;” I only say that because a friend was mispronouncing it “Jee-Jee-Eye”).
To my mind, the GG1 is the greatest railroad locomotive ever made.
I grew up a teenager in northern Delaware, when GG1s reigned supreme on the New York City to Washington DC line.
I saw many, and every time I did it seemed they were doing 80-100 mph!
With the GG1 the P5 became moribund.
But Pennsy couldn’t just scrap ‘em.
Electric freight locomotives were needed, so the P5 could be regeared down for that.
Freight-service was more a P5’s speed.
They weren’t as stable at breakneck speed as a GG1.
I saw plenty of P5s as a teenager, but never on passenger-trains.
A steeple-cab version of the P5 was developed after fatalities in a box-cab in a grade-crossing accident.

Photo by Bert Pennypacker.

GG1 passes Steeple-cab P5.

In a box-cab, the crew was right up front.
Steeple-cabs put the crew behind a long nose.
The GG1 is a steeple-cab.
The drivers of a P5 were larger (72 inches), and they tend to hunt.
P5 drivers are also attached directly to the locomotive frame, so hunting can cause the locomotive to nose off-line.
The drivers of a GG1 (only 57 inches) are in separate articulated subframes under the locomotive body.
If the drivers hunt, the massive momentum of the locomotive body counteracts.


A nice idea that failed. (Photo by Phil Hastings©.)

—The March 2011 entry of my Audio-Visual Designs black and white All-Pennsy Calendar is what I consider a wonderful photograph that failed.
The train is too far away.
Toward the south end of New York’s Finger Lakes are narrow rock-lined glens through the rocky sediment at lakeside in which creeks drain.
They are called the “Finger Lakes” because they look like the imprint of a giant hand.
They were apparently formed as ice-age glaciers receded north.
38 mile-long Seneca Lake is one of two large Finger Lakes, the other being Cayuga. Seneca Lake is the largest, stretching all the way from Geneva at the north end, to Watkins Glen at the south end.
You’re getting into rock in southern New York, the Appalachian mountains.
Watkins Glen is named after a scenic glen that doesn’t actually empty into the lake directly.
I’ve been up it.
Railroads paralleled Seneca Lake, Lehigh Valley on the east side, and Pennsy and New York Central on the west side.
The New York Central line is its old Corning line, now owned and operated by Norfolk Southern as its Corning Secondary.
It ran from Lyons, NY on the cross-state New York Central main south to Corning.
That line crossed Watkins Glen on a large high bridge.
From Corning the line ran south to Williamsport, PA, but some of that was abandoned, and much sold to shortline Tioga Central.
Pennsy also had a line north out of Williamsport, the old Northern Central to Elmira, NY.
Northern Central was an independent out of Baltimore bought by Pennsy in 1861.
Most of that line was abandoned, and is now gone. It’s hard to find even the right-of-way.
North of Elmira the line went to Watkins Glen, and from there north.
Northern Central eventually ended in nearby Canandaigua, and I don’t know who was the builder, Northern Central or buyer Pennsy, but an extension was built north to Lake Ontario at Sodus Point.
There a massive wharf was built to transload iron-ore or coal into lake ships.
All that is gone, and quite a bit of the line is abandoned, although segments are operated by shortlines Ontario Midland and Finger Lakes Railway.
The train pictured is Pennsy, iron-ore north to Sodus Point. It’s powered by a Decapod, 2-10-0.
Pennsy was still using steam on that Sodus Point line clear into the ‘50s.
I have a picture somewhere of a Decapod shunting cars on that Sodus Point wharf.

Photo by BobbaLew.

The long-gone Pennsy wharf at Sodus Point.

I even have a picture (at left) I took of that wharf before it was taken down.
The glen pictured is a scenic location. Go out into Seneca Lake and shoot up into the glen.
It was a nice idea, but you get no inkling of the massive size of the locomotive.
Apparently this railroad still exists, operated by Finger Lakes Railway.
Finger Lakes has trackage-rights on Norfolk Southern’s Corning Secondary down to Himrod Junction, where New York Central crossed Pennsy on a diamond.
From there Finger Lakes operates south to Watkins Glen on the old Pennsy line, and also north to Penn Yan.
I’ve driven next to that railroad to Penn Yan. The railroad is torturous.
There is a salt-mine in Watkins Glen, apparently a source of Finger Lakes car traffic.
South of Watkins Glen the old Pennsy line is gone.
Finger Lakes also operates some of the old Lehigh Valley lines east of Seneca Lake.
So probably the bridge pictured still exists, although about the only way to do it justice is go clear across the lake onto the east bank with a strong telephoto.
Phil Hastings is one of the greats of steam railroad photography.
He took many classic pictures.
But this is one of his lesser efforts; it didn’t work.



1968 AMX. (Photo by Ron Kimball©.)

―What we have here is a really great photograph of what I always considered a dumb car.
The March 2011 entry of my Motorbooks Musclecars calendar is a 1968 American Motors AMX.
The AMX is essentially a truncated American-Motors Javelin pony-car.

Javelin.

The Javelin was American Motors entry in the pony-car wars, the Mustang, the Camaro, the Plymouth Barracuda, and the Dodge Challenger.
Take a foot out of the center-section, thereby making it a two-seater, and VIOLA; essentially a Corvette competitor.
But only in the sense it was a two-seater. It still was a truncated pony-car.
Although you could get it with a 390 cubic-inch motor, which made it a musclecar.
The AMX was light, so 390 cubic-inches is a lot of motor.
Pony-cars are still essentially American sedans, though smaller and lighter.
Their architecture is that of an American sedan.
Front-engine bolted to a transmission, then a long driveshaft coupled to a differential centered in a heavy solid rear-axle powering solidly-attached rear drive-wheels.
The old Model-T tractor layout. —Front engine, rear-wheel drive.
The entire rear axle, including its heavy center differential, is suspended as a unit. A bump to one wheel effects both wheels. That heavy differential has momentum. The tractor layout can’t respond to bumps as well as independent-rear-suspension (“IRS”).
The Corvette was slightly different.
Front engine and transmission, rear-wheel drive, but the rear-suspension was independent, not tractor layout.


’67 Corvette — a Sting-Ray. (It has IRS, and is the last of that series. Corvette first had IRS in the 1963 model-year.)

The differential was mounted to the car-chassis, and independent anglable half-shafts came out of each side to power each drive-wheel.
A bump to the left drive-wheel did not also effect the right drive-wheel. Those wheels were independently suspended.
Independent-rear-suspension was all the rage back then, which is why Corvette did it. Although the ‘Vette IRS was rather rudimentary.

DeLorean.

Zora Arkus-Duntov.

John Z. DeLorean, head-honcho of Chevrolet at that time, wanted to AMX the Camaro, and market that as the Corvette.
Thankfully, he failed.
If he had succeeded, he would have reversed all the great input of Zora Arkus-Duntov, who made the Corvette the great car it is.
I’ve always thought of the AMX as a joke.
With a 390 cubic-inch motor it’s a musclecar, but I wouldn’t want one.

Got it

I won’t have to “manually do a ‘new contact’ in RoadRunner web-mail for every single entry in my AppleMail address-book.” (There were nearly 100.)
It so happens my old tower, which still works, had an address-list in its Netscape e-mail.
It was the address-list from which my AppleMail address-list was generated.
Fire up old tower. Fire up Netscape address-book. “Export” as .csv (comma-separated).
Fire up RoadRunner web-mail in browser on old machine.
“Import” address-list.
Grab Netscape .csv export from Desktop.
VIOLA! Almost 100 e-mail addresses instantly appear in my RoadRunner web-mail address-list.
I can compose and send e-mails via RoadRunner web-mail when out-of-town.
I.e. I won’t need a Rochester RoadRunner Internet connection to do e-mail. (Out-of-town my AppleMail wouldn’t send.)
There are a few missing that were added only on this laptop (not the tower). But only a few.

• My e-mail is via “AppleMail;” back-and-forth over the Internet.
• Our Internet-connection is Rochester RoadRunner via cable. Out-of-town RoadRunners are firewalled, and won’t take sent AppleMail e-mails.
• I’m age-67 and had a stroke (October 26, 1993). I’m not supposed to be able to do this.

MAC versus PC

“Why is it things have to be so difficult in the computer-world?” my wife asked. “Why is it Apple and Microsoft are always at war?”
Yrs trly drives an Apple Macintosh; this here blog is created on an Apple MacBook Pro.
“Apple’s OS-X is probably the superior computer operating-system, yet the world is tilted toward Microsoft,” my wife declared.
“Try to do anything across platforms, and ya run into walls.”
My e-mail on this laptop is AppleMail.
It works fine here at home, but not on the road.
It needs an Internet connection to Rochester RoadRunner.
Without it it won’t send.
I’ve been told foreign RoadRunners are firewalled.
It was suggested I use RoadRunner’s web-mail.
Which works — I tested it.
It even does a “Return-Receipt-Requested,” which as far as I can see AppleMail doesn’t do.
But of course, my e-mail address-list is in AppleMail; RoadRunner’s web-mail had nothing — it was empty.
So, “export” my AppleMail address-list to “import” into RoadRunner’s web-mail.
NO CAN DO!
AppleMail doesn’t have an “export” function, but the separate Address-Book AppleMail accesses, does.
Okay, “export” address-book address-list; it ends up on my Desktop with a .abbu extension.
RoadRunner web-mail wants a .csv extension, the PC world.
I changed .abbu to .csv.
Windows seems to want a file-extension. Sometimes just adding it, or changing it, works.
Not this time. Deafening silence; NOTHING!
Plan B: The e-mail on my old tower, which still works, is Netscape.
RoadRunner will import a Netscape .csv, so will my old tower “export” my old Netscape address-list as .csv? (That was what my AppleMail address-list was made from.)
If not, it’s back to what I was doing last night (Saturday, February 26, 2011): manually doing a “new contact” in RoadRunner web-mail for every single entry in my AppleMail address-book. —There are almost 100.
So far I’ve done nine; and I have “groups” to manufacture.
Plus we’ve observed RoadRunner web-mail only automatically fills in the address of people you’ve previously e-mailed.
AppleMail was friendlier. It filled in the e-mail address from the address-book, previous e-mail or not.
To send the first time on RoadRunner web-mail, you have to first select that recipient.

• My wife of 43+ years is “Linda.” She retired as a computer programmer.
• We live near Rochester, NY, and our Internet connection is Time-Warner’s Rochester RoadRunner via cable.

Wrastling with power-hungry Google

“Why is it every time I try to get my GMail, Google insists I set up a Google-account?
I already have one; in fact, I already have a GMail account I never can get to......”
Probably about the fourth try, this time with “GMail” typed directly into the web-address.
“First you must set up a Google-account.”
“All righty; so be it!”
I set up yet another Google-account, my third.
After a lot of horsing around I finally got my GMail.
Three e-mails from the so-called “GMail team.”
I deleted ‘em all; just welcomes and invitations to add bells-and-whistles.
“What a struggle,” I said. “I don’t have three hours to do all this horsing around.”
I thereafter set about to make a correction to a BlogSpot blog.
BlogSpot is also a Google function, and occasionally requires me to log in with my Google-account.
This was one of those times.
I did what I usually do, and it threw me out.
“Invalid password!”
“For heaven sake! That’s the same password I’ve always used.”
It also insisted on capitalizing the first letter of my user-name, a no-no.
“These clowns want me to have separate Google-accounts for BlogSpot, my laptop, and my Droid-X smartphone.” (I had to set up GMail to purchase the Droid. Apparently Droid is a Google operating-system.)
“Do they have any idea how silly that is?”
I gave up. Back to e-mail via RoadRunner, as in the past.
Leave well-enough alone.
And on-the-road I can do e-mail via RoadRunner web-mail.
I don’t need GMail.

Four-holer versus three-holer

Roadmaster.

The April 2011 issue of my Hemmings Classic-Car Magazine has a giant article about Buick’s “Roadmaster,” which was manufactured from 1936 through the 1958 model-year.
The “Roadmaster” was a really great concept: a dramatic luxury-car at a lowish price.
It also had good performance; a strong straight-eight motor at first; 320.2 cubic inches of displacement, 170 horsepower when last made (1952).
The Roadmaster was a siren-song, attractive and well-styled and fast.
Ford’s Flat-head V8 was also attractive, but the straight-eight Buick was more appealing.
Beyond that Buick’s straight-eight was overhead-valve. Ford’s Flat-head was side-valve, like a current lawnmower engine, only water-cooled.
Even my paternal grandfather was smitten, and what he wanted more than anything else was a Packard (“PAK-erd”).
He eventually got a Packard, but it was the el-cheapo six-cylinder model.
What replaced the Packard was a Buick, ’47 or so.
He’d show it off.
He took us all for a ride in it.
“Feel that? Heat into the back under the front seats.”
“We don’t feel anything, Pop-pop.”
“Shaddup and go along, kid,” my father growled.
I don’t know if my grandfather’s Buick was a Roadmaster.
It rode great, and was impressive to be seen in.
A Cadillac without all the Cadillac baggage.
Roadmaster had four side ventiports.
Those ventiports were a Buick trademark, although they’re no longer seen.
Lesser Buicks had only three per side; the Roadmaster was four.
Roadmasters were the top-of-the-line.
I once told a friend at the newspaper where I worked about my grandfather’s Buick.
“Three-holer or four?” he asked.
I couldn’t remember if my grandfather’s Buick was a Roadmaster, but if it had been, my friend would have been impressed.
Back in Spring of 1966, when I was in college, a friend had an old ’51 Buick, a straight-eight. 110 mph once, as fast as that old turkey would go. —I also don’t know if his car was a Roadmaster.
The owner of the house where I roomed during my sophomore year at college (’63-’64) had a ’55 Caddy four-door sedan. I drove it once. Impressive but heavy.
My friend’s Buick was more appealing.
In 1959 the Roadmaster was replaced by the Electra.

• A side-valve engine (like the Ford Flat-head) has the valves down in the engine-block, beside the cylinder-bores. Overhead-valve is in the combustion-chambers, atop the cylinders. —Side-vales have contorted intake and exhaust passages, so breathe poorly. Overhead-valve is more complex mechanically, but more direct, so breathes better, making more power. (The Ford Flat-head was called that because it had flat cylinder-head castings.)

The Great American Race

Winner of the Great American Race, Trevor Bayne.

Last weekend was the so-called “Great American Race;” the Daytona 500.
I was one of the millions who didn’t watch, despite my interest in auto-racing when I was younger.
HEX-KYOOZE ME, but I always considered the Indianapolis 500 the Great American Race.
Although it could be depressing.
The Indy 500 always seemed to kill someone, either in qualifying or the race itself.
Someone would clobber the concrete wall lining the track, or the beginning of the pit-wall head-on.
And snuff himself. You had to hope he had already killed himself when his car caught fire.
1973 was the most depressing Indy 500 I can remember, a rain-shortened race won by Gordon Johncock.
Accidents galore, the worst being Swede Savage hitting the concrete wall head-on at speed, and then catching fire. (Killed him.)
A second driver, Art Pollard, had been killed in practice.
Speeds were almost 200 mph per lap. Turbocharging had brought the engines to near 1,100 horsepower, enough to spin the drive-wheels at speed.
When I was a child, it was Bill Vukovich, the so-called “Mad Russian” (actually Serbian; he hated the nickname).
Vuky (“VOO-kee;” as in “you”) had won in 1953 and 1954, but was killed in the 1955 Indy 500.
At that time Firestone Tires was running a full two-page ad in Life Magazine of the many times its tires had won the Indy 500.
Seems it was every Indy 500 since the first in 1911.
Then Goodyear Tires came along and started winning there.
So much for the Firestone Tire ads, which I had studied assiduously.
I guess Firestone is back, although they can’t run those ads — not when Goodyear won so many races there.
National Association of Stock Car Auto Racing; NASCAR.
Sure, go down to your dealer and buy what they race in the Daytona 500.
They used to be stock cars, or stock automobile offerings modified for racing.
Like a stock Chevrolet or Ford or Pontiac.
NASCAR was always a backwater to Indy cars; a bastion of southern auto-racing.
It had its roots delivering illegal corn-liquor, jugs of moonshine stuffed in the back of a hotrod Ford.
Southern race-ovals organized races for the ‘shine drivers, racing their hot-rodded stock cars.
It grew.
Soon the cars became extensively modified stock cars; e.g. a Plymouth or Dodge or Mercury heavily modified for racing.
Roll-cages were installed to -a) stiffen the chassis, and -b) protect the driver in case of a crash.
And NASCAR tried to keep the cars roughly equal, so any car could win; none were dominant.
Modified stock cars became moribund; race-cars started being purpose-built.
Yet NASCAR tried to keep everything within range.
The rear suspension is still the old Model-T tractor-axle, and engines are still stock-based pushrod V8s — still carbureted too.
Since when do you find carburetion at a dealer? Current cars are fuel-injected.
Independent-rear-suspension doesn’t lend much advantage, if any, on an oval race-track.
IRS makes a difference on bumpy roads.
The scuttlebutt now is that NASCAR is racing ‘50s taxi-cabs, although if New York City taxis were anything like NASCAR, trips would take mere seconds, probably without passengers.
Just the same, Indy and Formula-One race-cars have been state-of-the-art for years.
The Model-T tractor-axle was replaced long ago by independent-rear-suspension, and the engine was moved behind the driver.
Doing so centralizes mass, and reduces the pendulum effect.
NASCAR is still front-engine, like what’s available from your dealer.
NASCAR expanded across the nation, so now NASCAR is more apparent than open-wheel Indy-car racing.
And still fairly dangerous, although apparently not dangerous enough.
Cars can lose it and pile up, usually causing multi-car accidents; cars careening into each other at breakneck speed.
Do that in Indy-car and someone gets killed.
In NASCAR, those involved often walk away.
NASCAR also seems to have become red-neck macho expression.
Sick of the daily commute?
Pretend you’re a NASCAR driver!

David Pearson (“Little David;” alias “the Silver Fox”) in the #21 Wood Brothers Mercury.

The race was won by a car number-21.
I wonder if that’s a Wood-Brothers car? (It was.)
They used the number 21 in the past, and had a habit of winning; e.g. David Pearson winning the so-called “Triple-Crown” of racing in the 1976 season, the Daytona 500 at Daytona International Speedway, the World 600 at Charlotte Motor Speedway, and the Southern 500 at Darlington Raceway. In the 1976 season they won 10 times in 22 starts. They have 98 total victories. They are the oldest team in NASCAR.
Wood-Brothers was always winning; their advantage at first was quick pit-stops.
Later other racing teams instituted quick pit-stops.
Wood Brothers still seems to be in it.

Another Faudi train-chase

(“FOW-dee;” as in “wow”)


25Z south toward the Lilly overpass. (Photo by BobbaLew.)

First time at the infamous Station-Inn in Cresson, PA (“KRESS-in”), nine railroad miles from the Mighty Curve.
The “Mighty Curve” (Horseshoe 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.
I am a railfan, and have been since I was a child. —I’ve been there hundreds of times, since it’s only about five hours away.
Station-Inn is a bed-and-breakfast that caters to railfans, but as such is rather rudimentary.
“Martha Stewart doesn’t live here,” said a sign near the lobby.
No amenities to speak of; no TV in the rooms (no problem in our case), no refrigerator in the room, wi-fi only downstairs (supposedly, although I got it upstairs), and probably no air-conditioning.
Worst of all is single beds, abhorrent to people like us who have slept together since married, which is 43+ years ago.
Station-Inn is the old Callan House built in 1866, hard by the Pennsy Main through Cresson.
Although that railroad is now Norfolk Southern.
No matter, it’s a main railroad route from our nation’s interior.
Wait 25 minutes and you’ll see a train; often fewer minutes.
Sometimes the trains are fleeted; one after another.
And it’s three tracks — used to be four (the “Broad Way”)
Cresson is far up the western slope of the railroad’s crossing of the Allegheny Mountains.
In the early 1800s the Alleghenies were a barrier to west-east commerce, but the railroad conquered that.
Cresson was the location of Cresson Springs, a mountain health-spa (the “Mountain House”).
People used to take the railroad out from Pittsburgh and stay at Callan House.
Tunnel-Inn wins!
Tunnel-Inn is the bed-and-breakfast in nearby Gallitzin, PA (“guh-LIT-zin”) where we normally stay when in the Altoona area.
—Named that because it’s right at the west-facing entrances of the Pennsylvania Railroad’s tunnels under Allegheny summit.
It used to be the Gallitzin town offices and library built by the railroad in 1905.
When Gallitzin built new town offices, a railfan named Mike Kraynyak (“CRANE-yak”) bought it and converted it to a bed-and-breakfast.
He completely gutted and restored it; even sandblasted the exterior down to the original brick.
It has amenities Station-Inn lacks, mainly for us -1) wi-fi in our room; -2) a small refrigerator in our room;-3) a queen-size bed that can comfortably sleep two; and -4) air-conditioning.
Trains at Tunnel-Inn are more in-your-face than Station-Inn, where they are across-the-street.
But the heavy brick exterior of Tunnel-Inn keeps out the racket.
About all that wakes me is a train blowing its air-horn after a full-stop brake-test on Track Two before entering the tunnel, and descending The Hill.
(“The Hill” is the grades over the Allegheny mountains; up one side, and down the other.)
I’d always wanted to try Station-Inn, but the only reason this time was that Tunnel-Inn wasn’t open yet — as I understood it.
Kraynyak had a Valentine’s-Day winter special in the past, but not this year.
He has to come all the way from near Philadelphia.
We did the Valentine’s-Day special last February, and got some fabulous pictures.
Gallitzin was under 3-4 feet of snow that time. Poor Kraynyak was trying to clear his tiny parking-lot with only a snowblower.
We were hoping it would be like that this time, but it wasn’t. Just about all the snow was gone.
Temperatures would be into the 40s-50s, well above freezing.
Last year there was so much snow it was covering the ties.
We’d be chasing trains again with Phil Faudi.
Phil is the railfan extraordinaire from Altoona, PA, who supplied all-day train-chases for $125. —I did my first two years ago, alone, and it blew my mind.
He called them “Adventure-Tours.”
Faudi would bring along his rail-scanner, tuned to 160.8, the Norfolk Southern operating channel, and he knew the whereabouts of every train, as the engineers called out the signals, and various lineside defect-detectors fired off.
He knew each train by symbol, and knew all the back-roads, and how long it took to get to various photo locations — and also what made a successful photo — lighting, drama, etc.
I’d let Phil do the monitoring. I have a scanner myself, but I left it behind.
Phil knew every train on the scanner, where it was, and how long it took to beat it to a prime photo location.
My first time was a slow day, yet we got 20 trains. Next Tour we got 30 trains in one nine-hour day.
Phil gave it up; fear of liability suits, and a really nice car he’s afraid he’d mess up.
Things would be pretty much the same as his paid tours. About the only difference is I’ll be the driver.
I don’t mind a bit. Phil knows way more than me. He’ll be telling me where to go next.
I have my druthers, which he went by in the past.
I suggested role-reversal, that Phil bring his camera.
But that wasn’t what he wanted to do.
He wanted to show me around like in the past, except this time I’m the car-parker. No more “You get out, Bob; and I’ll park over there.”
Like me, Phil is a railfan. I suppose his greatest thrill is seeing me freak out, and get fabulous pictures. —There also is him showing me how to do what he does.
This time my brother-from-Delaware’s only son, my nephew Tom Hughes, approaching 26, is driving out to join us.
Tom is also a railfan.
To my mind, the idea was to blow Tom’s mind, like Phil did me our first tour.
It won’t be hard. Tom is a railfan just like me.
I remember coming home from work one night, and there was Tom, utterly entranced by my train-videos.
At age five!
Any other kid that age would climb the wall in three minutes.
But not Tom.
Better yet is that Tom brings luck to a railfan. Stop near a railroad, and sooner-or-later a train shows up.
I think we were the only guests, or nearly.
The front-door was locked when we showed up; “no vacancy.”
I called an emergency number posted outside, but got the husband. “Sandy’s not here now (‘grumble’), but works there. I have no idea what you’re talking about. (‘Grumble’).”
I was about to give up and room in Altoona at Holiday-Inn Express, but Station-Inn was in my cellphone contacts.
So I tried that, and got the owner, who was inside the Inn, but in an office where he couldn’t hear us pounding on the door.
“I’ll be right there,” he said. He was, the front-door was unlocked, and we were let in.
He thought we were reserved to arrive the next day, but his computer corrected him.
The owner is the so-called “crazy old coot’ who set up Station-Inn.
“Ever see all them railfans out there taking pictures?” he’d ask his critics.
“Of course we do. They’re all over!”
“Do ya think they sleep in trees?” he’d ask.
So now Callan House is a bed-and-breakfast for railfans, and has been since 1994.
It’s rather rudimentary, but “my clientele is here to watch trains!”
And well they can.
Station-Inn is across the street from the old Pennsy main.
It has an open front porch from which you can watch the passing parade of trains.
We hadn’t been there three minutes and a train appeared; later two trains at once.
We’d been there about five hours, and during that time 20-30 trains passed.
Some were identifiable, like the infamous “trash-train,” and also the “ethanol-train,” solid tank-cars filled with ethanol, with only two safety cars at each end, in this case covered hoppers.
One behind the lead locomotives, and one ahead of the pushers.
The Hill often requires helpers, perhaps two units ahead of the lead power, and/or two units to push, sometimes four.
The railroad keeps a pool of helper-units in Cresson.
They are mainly used on The Hill, yet often go clear to Pittsburgh or Johnstown.
Helpers are not as necessary as they were previously.
Lead units are getting powerful enough to make The Hill unassisted.
Any more, the weight of the train determines if helpers are needed.
The idea is to get the train over the mountains quickly — and not have it stall.
Helper-units also add dynamic-braking descending hills.
With dynamic-braking the locomotive traction-motors are turned into generators, and the current generated is dissipated as heat in giant grids atop the locomotive.
It generates additional braking-action, but only at the locomotive.
Dynamic-braking can help hold back a train descending hills, and keep it from running away. (It’s happened.)
Dynamic-braking is also much easier to use. Previously retainers had to be set up on each car to keep brakes engaged.
A heavy train has momentum, and gravity can make it run away on even the slightest grade.
Every locomotive used on The Hill has dynamic-braking; once an option.



Amtrak’s eastbound “Pennsylvanian,” on Track Two through Lilly, PA. (Photo by BobbaLew.)

Day Two: the great train-chase

I hadn’t planned to do this, but things started falling together.
There was a lot of snow on the ground, and it was still covering the ties of Finger Lakes Railway in nearby Canandaigua; even though the roads were clear.
So it looked like I might be able to match the photography I got last February.
Tunnel-Inn was closed, but Station-Inn had vacancy the times needed.
I invited Tom to came out expecting nothing, but he agreed.
Phil also seemed interested.
He had gone out along the railroad, but observed almost all the snow was gone.
“I’m always game to chase trains!” I responded; “even without the snow.”
Chasing trains with Phil is railfan overload.
Best of all was my nephew going to show.
Things were falling into place.
So we reserved at Station-Inn, and drove there.
But we were down to Spring conditions. Just about all the snow was gone.
And we had already hit just about every great photo-location. I’d be repeating previous shots, although perhaps with different light.
Beyond that, my nephew Tom was coming. The goal was to freak him out, much like Phil had done with me our first tour.
It wouldn’t be one of Phil’s “Adventure-Tours.”
Phil did the driving in the past, but this time it would be me.
If anything, I’m probably more conservative; although Phil is conservative himself — he isn’t frightening.
Breakfast at Station-Inn was semi-leaden pancakes prepared by “Chris,” eaten with others at a common table.
My blowhard brother-in-Boston, who noisily badmouths everything I do or say, usually with ad-hominems and name-calling a la Rush Limbaugh, would love Chris. Chris is an obvious Harley-dude.
Big with grizzled features, a long-haired flowing white mane, and a Santa Claus beard.
But not fat and jolly like Santa Claus.
I’ve been compared to Santa myself — all my hair is white, and I have a beard. —But that’s a little off.
I’m not that fat, Chris even less so.
My brother would like Chris. He’s a macho Harley-dude who likes to eat.
Station-Inn is the hands-down winner for breakfast-food. Tunnel Inn is okay, but not hand-made breakfast at a table.
Phil walked in, and off we went.
First to the highway overpass over the tracks in Lilly, then down to South Fork.
There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, yet.
We got Amtrak’s eastbound Pennsylvanian on Track Two through Lilly next to a westbound passing on Track Three.
We also got that same westbound approaching the same overpass, as illustrated at the beginning.
We then drove down to South Fork, where I missed my first photo-opportunity. The train was appearing as I parked.
We then drove back north to Summerhill, just north of South Fork.
I parked the car, and we walked up on the overpass in Summerhill.
The signal-lights are always lit on the old Pennsy signal-bridge, and the eastbound targets are up high to be visible over the overpass.


227 westbound on Track Two at Summerhill. (Photo by BobbaLew.)

Back down to South Fork, where I got different camera-angles. It was still morning light. The big curve only works in the afternoon.


11K westbound on Track Two (note the shared BNSF unit). (Photo by BobbaLew.)

Track Three, the normal westbound track, was now out-of-service for maintenance. Everything westbound was being sent Track Two, which can be either way.
We then walked out on a highway overpass at the north end of South Fork.
Coal from the South Fork Secondary was parked on a siding — you can see it in the picture (below).


21Q westbound on Track Two through South Fork (note the leased EMD unit). (Photo by BobbaLew.)

We then drove back to Cresson.
After Cresson we drove all the way north to Plummer’s Crossing, east of Tyrone, PA. It’s where Plummer’s Road crosses the railroad.
It’s also where the railroad turns east through a notch in the mountains.
I was hoping to snag a westbound at Plummer’s; it’s an attractive S-curve.
But nothing.


20V eastbound approaches Plummer’s Crossing. (Photo by BobbaLew.)

All I got was an eastbound stacker; straight-track approaching the crossing. But the lead unit was not wide-cab.
Clouds were also moving in.
We then drove down to McFarland’s Curve near Tipton, what I call “Six Targets.”
That’s because it has an old Pennsy signal-bridge with six targets, the maximum. All three tracks can be either way.
It’s my favorite location; primarily because that signal-bridge, silhouetted against the sky, without distraction, makes a great frame.
But it’s only a two-track railroad at that point, the controlled-siding (the closest track) is only a siding.
To get to McFarland’s is up a dirt-track. It was filled with icy slush.
My CR-V has All-Wheel-Drive, plus the high ground-clearance of an SUV, so up we went, slipping and sliding over rocky gravel.
It’s a dirt-track Faudi dare not try in his new Buick, for fear of bottoming something.
And without All-Wheel-Drive he might not make it.


22W east on the controlled-siding under “Six-Targets.” (Photo by BobbaLew.)

“Don’t go up on the embankment, Tom. Down here (at trackside) is where it works. That silhouettes the signal-bridge against the sky.”
One track was still outta-service, which was why a mainline train was on the controlled-siding.
We then drove down into Altoona, the 17th St. bridge near “Alto” tower (“Al-toe;” as in the name “Al”), and also Slope Interlocking and Brickyard Crossing.
Alto is the tower that operates the vast Altoona complex, although it only operates, not dispatches.
Westbound helpers are attached there, and there are numerous tracks.


Westbound trailer-van on Track Three through Altoona. (Photo by BobbaLew.)

Slope Interlocking is where tracks eastbound into the Altoona yard begin; it used to be a tower location, but that tower was removed long ago.
It’s called “Slope” because that’s where The Hill begins.
“Brickyard” is a road-crossing next to an abandoned brick plant. It looks like that brick plant is gonna be demolished, in which case the name “Brickyard” becomes a misnomer.
The road that crosses is actually Porta Road, not “Brickyard.”
But “Brickyard” is what railfans have always called the crossing.
We took pictures at each location, but my ones at Slope were best.
This is despite my thinking Slope was sort of a waste.
It’s an overpass, but over straight track.
But I wanted Tom to be able to find Slope.


The front of Y94. (Two SD40-E helpers are leading.) (Photo by BobbaLew.)

Above (at Slope) is probably my best shot, but it’s only a grab-shot.
At Brickyard, where Tom has been before, we were passed by 10G eastbound on Track One, with a Virginia Railway Express (VRE) engine trailing the power.


10G east down The Hill at Brickyard Crossing, with a VRE engine dead-in-tow. (Photo by BobbaLew.)

The VRE locomotive had probably been overhauled, and was on its way back to Virginia.
We hit Slope a second time, and got a few more pictures.


23W westbound on Track Three, passing a stopped double-stack on Two for lack of railroad to continue. (Photo by BobbaLew.)

But by now our light was fading. I jacked the ISO up to 400 so I could continue shooting, but was down to 1/200th with the lens wide-open.


591 up The Hill at Slope. (Photo by BobbaLew.)

By now the headlight was reflecting on the lens; I had to take it out with the Photoshop Clone-tool.
Back to Alto one more time, but under the 17th St. bridge. I’ve never liked the location — a chainlink fence impinges. But you can stand off to the side, and minimize the fence.
But it was too late. It was probably already after 5 p.m., and getting dark. I was down to 1/100th wide-open, at 400 ISO.
So we gave up and left. (23 trains.)
Dinner-time.


Day Three: back to reality
—1) As always, the question is:
How much longer can I keep doing this?
We’re both 67.
The trip here is getting to be a drag, even though it’s only five hours, maybe 260 miles or so.
Both trips, here and back, were uneventful.
It used to be I had to sack out after a trip; nap on arrival, nap after getting home.
That seems to no longer be the case, although I mark off each way-marker.
Four-three-two more hours to go.
“Fort Roberdeau,” another 20-25 miles.
“Altoona, 45 miles.”
At least, distances on this trip are short, usually no more than 60 miles. “Williamsport, 50 miles;” “Mansfield, 40 miles;” “Corning, 38 miles;” “State College, 25 miles.”
Across New York state from home is about 75-80 miles, all country two-lanes.
Then it’s into Pennsylvania.
All roads across PA are four-lane expressway, 60-70 mph.
Only one section is intersections at grade, about six miles. But it’s four-lane.
I also do a shortcut that is two-lane.
It shortcuts a dog-leg.
Five hours is about my limit.
If it’s more, we share the driving, although even in the shotgun seat I’m still driving.
We split the driving so my wife gets the easy parts, while I get the difficult parts.
This is because she’s “automotively-challenged;” her ability to judge things is compromised — she gets overly nervous.
I can live with that. It took a while. On balance I accept that. She’s not frightening or worrisome.
When a car or truck is merging, I tell her if she needs to back off.
—2) I have my up days and down days.
This trip seemed to be up.
Some days I am utterly fagged-out working out at the YMCA Exercise-Gym.
It’s a struggle to keep going, although I usually can.
Other days I crush the exercise machines.
This trip wasn’t that, but close.
It used to be with Faudi I’d fag out about 4 p.m.
Chasing trains can be a rat-race, and Phil is the Energizer-Bunny.
But I keep going, or can now.
Phil and I have different walking speeds, me slower than him.
One time I had to run to catch up, but I still can.
—3) Will I do it again?
Probably.
Chasing trains is great fun, and with Phil you only wait a few minutes.
On my own, the wait might be a half-hour or more.
Trains are frequent on this line, but I’m not Phil.
—4) Can I do it myself?
Perhaps.
What I really know, and can understand, is defect-detector transmissions, and where those defect-detectors are.
Signal locations I’m getting the hang of, and the train-engineers call out the signal-aspects as they pass.
On the other hand, “Garble-hiss-mumble.....”
“Oh, that’s 20Q. He’s in the picture. He’s about five hours late. If we drive over to Pinecroft, we can beat him.”
“Great, Phil. To me that was static.”
We passed a train coming down The Hill on our way home.
We decided not to wait for it north of Altoona.
That train would change crews in Altoona, a long wait.
That’s knowledge gleaned from Phil.
—5) Back to Tunnel Inn next visit.
The fact Martha Stewart lives there is part of it, but mainly it’s their bed that will sleep two.
We’re in separate beds at Station-Inn: my wife wonders if I’m still breathing.
“I hope he’s all right; I can’t hear anything.”
At Tunnel Inn we just reach over, and the warm body is still there.

See-saws with air-bags

I don’t blog topics that were in the Canandaigua Daily-Messenger newspaper, from where I retired over five years ago.
To me that’s second-guessing, Monday-morning quarterbacking.
But a story in their Sunday paper yesterday caught my eye.
That’s February 13, 2011.
A mother in a nearby town is suing other towns $5 million in damages after her 9-year-old son fell off a see-saw and broke his elbow.
In a recreation-program sponsored by those towns.
$5 million!
My immediate reaction was “what’s the lawyer’s cut? 20 percent, 25 percent, one-third?”
Her suit complains the see-saw wasn’t compliant with state standards.
Don’t give ‘em any ideas.
Soon a lumbering committee will be convened to promulgate state standards for see-saws.
I can see it now. See-saws with full harness systems. And air-bags.
When I was in fourth grade, Ronald Hansen and I used to frighten our teacher with our antics on the school swings.
The A-frame that supported those swings was about 12 feet high, and the swing-chains were about nine feet.
The swing-seats were three-foot orange planks, not the rubber sling ya see now.
We’d get the swings as high as we could, to mimic aerial dog-fights between German Messerschmitts and American fighter-planes.
“Messerschmitt at twelve-o’clock high,” we’d shout. “Ratta-tatta-ratta-tatta-ratta-tatta!”
Shot out of the sky we’d execute extravagant spins.
Our teacher, stodgy old Mrs. Marlin, was terrified.
Yet here I am to talk about it.
The swing-set stayed together, and I wasn’t dumped on the playground.
Gravel had been dumped in a mound to block an unused road right-of-way.
We youngsters used that mound to jump our bicycles.
We’d careen flat-out toward that mound, zoom over it, and catch air on the other side.
The complaint alleged no one was supervising the see-saw.
Well, that makes sense, I guess.
And that no one notified her, when her son broke his elbow.
But a state-compliant see-saw?
Good grief!
Years ago I was on a jury-trial for a car accident.
A young driver had plowed into an older gentleman backing his car out of a driveway.
A hot-shot lawyer, apparently a friend of the younger driver, was brought in to sue millions of dollars in damages.
Didn’t work!
Our jury decided the suit was frivolous.
Photos were presented of the young driver’s car, and damage was slight.
—Like impact was at five-miles-per-hour or less.
Beyond that, Junior wasn’t wearing his seatbelt, a legal requirement in this state.
We awarded maybe $5,000; perhaps less.
The defendant was relieved.
Justice had prevailed — the judge was pleased.
Mr. hot-shot lawyer was befuddled.

• By law, seatbelts must be used in New York State.

Mano-a-mano with the Tops U-Scan machines

Surely I’ve blogged this topic before.
So much insanity has occurred at the Tops U-Scan machines, I’m tempted to forget it and start using a checkout-clerk.
Things were going smoothly until my single banana, my final item.
“Please enter the produce-code, press ‘done’ when finished, and place your item on the scale.”
Nothing.
Minutes passed.
I cleared everything and tried again.
“Please enter the produce-code, press ‘done’ when finished, and place your item on the scale.”
Again, nothing.
I strode over to the attendant, held up my banana, and said “Your scale isn’t pricing my banana.”
“Well, you have to put the produce-code into the machine.”
“I did,” I said; “twice!”
She took my banana, walked to the machine, keyed the produce-code into it, and placed the banana on the scale.
I noticed a scant dirty look, like I was a dumb old geezer interrupting her day-long donut break.
Nothing.
“Tried to tell ya,” I was tempted to say.
“Oh, a smarty-pants, eh?” The U-Scan had just embarrassed her.
She started angrily pressing buttons.
“No produce-code,” she pressed, although it was on my banana.
She pushed the button for bananas, and put my banana on the scale.
Again, nothing.
Down-and-dirty time!
The U-Scan was making a store-employee look stupid.
We can’t have that!
“Cancel sale.”
I guess all it canceled was my banana transaction.
I didn’t wanna rescan my entire order.
Start over; after scale reboot.
This time it took the produce-code, and weighed my banana.
A triumph of mankind over technology.
Or rather, triumph of the users over the engineer that programmed the U-Scan.

• “Tops” is a large supermarket-chain based in Buffalo we occasionally buy groceries at. They have a store in Canandaigua. (“Canandaigua” [“cannan-DAY-gwuh”] is a small city to the east nearby where we live in Western NY. The city is also within a rural town called “Canandaigua.” The name is Indian, and means “Chosen Spot.” —It’s about 15 miles away.)
• RE: “U-Scan machines.......” —A checkout-clerk scans the barcodes on items to ring up your order. With a U-Scan machine, you can do this .yourself, i.e. without a checkout-clerk. (You also pay yourself.)

Monkeyshines

The retirees of Local 282, the Amalgamated Transit Union (“ATU;” “what’s ‘Ah-two?’”) local at Regional Transit Service in Rochester, the so-called “Alumni,” negotiated special reduced pricing at Q-Dental.
The way it works is our Regional Transit retiree dental-insurance pays its part, and we co-pay the additional.
Our dental-insurance pays a pittance. Our co-pay could be potentially be a fortune.
This was true of my old dentist. My retiree dental-insurance paid its part, and I made up the difference, which was usually huge.
The “Alumni” are the union retirees of Regional Transit Service (“Transit,” “RTS”), a public employer, the transit-bus operator in Rochester and environs.
For 16&1/2 years (1977-1993) I drove transit bus for RTS.
The Alumni was a reaction to the fact Transit management retirees ran roughshod over union retirees — a continuation of the bad vibes at Transit, management versus union.
Transit had a club for long-time employees, and I was in it. It was called the “15/25-year Club;” I guess at first the “25-year Club.” But they lowered the employment requirement, and renamed it “15/25-year Club.” The employment requirement was lowered even more; I joined at 10 years.
My employ there ended in 1993 with my stroke; and the “Alumni” didn’t exist then.
The Alumni is a special club — you have to join. It’s an Amalgamated Transit Union functionary. (ATU is nationwide.)
It isn’t just a social club.
It has bylaws, officers, and an Executive Board.
In many ways it’s just like our union-local, except it entertains issues of interest to retirees; like Medicare, healthcare, and diabetes and Alzheimer’s.
The Alumni negotiated reduced pricing with Q-Dental.
As I understand it, a porcelain-fused crown cost quite a bit more with Q-Dental’s regular pricing, more than their Alumni pricing.
With the Alumni my co-pay is $422; still substantial, but less.
On January 28, I had two appointments at Q-Dental lumped together.
One was a cleaning and dental-exam; the second was three fillings.
Q-Dental’s Alumni charge for the second appointment was $214.
My retiree dental-insurance pays $65.
I co-payed the difference: $149.
An “Account-Ledger” statement from Q-Dental arrived the other day, saying I owed $45.
The $45 amount was highlighted in yellow magic-marker. Second Notice! Gloom-and-doom.
I had no idea what was going on. —I thought I had already co-paid as required.
Okay, can the old stroke-survivor do this? It’s an incredibly complex issue, and I’m no good at doing phonecalls.
“You should know one thing before we start. You’re dealing with a stroke-survivor. My ability to do this may be compromised. There may be stony silences and halting speech. I may not make sense.”
Turns out their Henrietta Office, where I did the two appointments, never charged the co-pay for the cleaning/exam, the $45, which is what they say I owe.
We executed a credit-card charge to pay that, but we still are unsure of other charges on their statement.
The amount my retiree dental-insurance will pay is nowhere near what they charged.
We sit quietly with our hands folded.

• “Q-Dental” is an institutionalized supplier of dental services in the Rochester area.
• “What’s ‘ah-two?’” is something my mother asked seeing my ATU (Amalgamated Transit Union) button.
• I had a stroke October 26, 1993, and it slightly compromised my speech. (Difficulty putting words together.)
• “We” is me and my wife of 43+ years, “Linda.”

“Choose your weapon”

A Ford truck ad caught my eye.
It didn’t have any Ford trucks pictured.
What it had were the four engines Ford has available for trucks: the 3.5 liter Eco-Boost™ V6, a 3.7 liter V6, a 5 liter V8, and a 6.2 liter V8.
What interests me most are the first three.
All appear to be double-overhead camshaft, four valves per cylinder.
The 6.2 liter V8 appears to be pushrod.
Ford has leapt ahead of Chevrolet in engine development.

1955, 162 horsepower from 265 cubic inches.

Chevrolet leaped ahead in the 1955 model-year when it introduced its revolutionary Small-Block V8.
(The Chevrolet “Small-Block” V8 was introduced in 1955 at 265 cubic-inches displacement. It continued production for years, first to 283 cubic inches, then 327, then 350. Other displacements were also manufactured.
The Chevrolet “Big-Block” V8 was introduced in the 1965 model-year at 396 cubic-inches, and was unrelated to the Small-Block. It was made in various larger 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 “Big-Block” could be immensely powerful, and the “Small-Block” was revolutionary in its time.)
The Small-Block was more desirable than the new post-war overhead-valve V8s from Oldsmobile and Cadillac.
Primarily because its lightweight valve-gear would allow it to rev to the moon.
That Small-Block motor was a siren-song.
I wanted one all through high-school and college, and even after.
When I was 14 or 15 (about ’58 or ’59) I pedaled my balloon-tire bicycle into a shopping-plaza parking-lot near where my family lived at that time in northern Delaware.
I saw three Corvettes parked outside a bowling-alley. Two were ‘57s, and one was a ’56. One of the ‘57s was fuel-injection.
All-of-a sudden four guys burst from the bowling-alley and got in the Corvettes.
I immediately pedaled up to the parking-lot exit; I knew I was about to witness AN EVENT.
Sure enough, the three ‘Vettes exited the parking-lot hammer-down, revved to the moon, smoke pouring off their spinning rear tires.
I will never forget it! That’s goin’ to my grave.
All were Small-Blocks, of course.
The fuel-injection Small-Block for 1957 got 283 horsepower for 283 cubic inches of engine-displacement. That’s one horsepower per cubic-inch; phenomenal at that time.
The Chevrolet Small-Block was so cheap and plentiful, it put the famous Ford Flat-head V8, foundation of the hotrod movement, out to pasture.
The Ford Flat-head V8 goes back to the 1932 model-year.
We can thank Old Henry for being anti-six.
He refused to build a six-cylinder motor, so introduced the Flat-head V8.
The Flat-head was rather sprightly, so hotrodders started modifying it to bend even more power out of it.
An entire industry built up around hotrodding the Flat-head V8.
But the Chevy Small-Block ended that.
The Flat-head was side-valve, like a lawnmower engine, except it was water-cooled.
Side-valve means the cylinder-valves are in the engine-block, parallel to and beside the cylinders.
Breathing passages are contorted; a flat-head can’t breathe as well as overhead-valving.
The cylinder-head casting is flat (see picture below).
A flat-head is an antique design; overhead-valving was more complex, yet produced more power.
The Chevrolet Small-Block was overhead-valve.
The Small-Block was too cheap and available, and it responded well to hotrodding.
No way could the Ford Flat-head match that.
Chevrolet continues to build pretty much the same architecture as the original Small-Block.
A single camshaft down in the block, with two valves per cylinder operated by pushrods and rocker-arms.
Meanwhile, engine development has leapt ahead.
This is especially true of motorcycle engines, where horsepower development and extreme performance are the goals.
Maximum performance, and engine breathing, benefit from four valves per cylinder, those valves operated by camshafts overhead the cylinders in the cylinder-head.
Such an arrangement takes out the heavy pushrods, which have momentum.
And overhead-camshaft valve actuation is more direct; i.e. it can be more precise.

Photo by BobbaLew.

The Flat-head in my friend’s ’49 Ford hotrod.

I compare Ford’s 32-valve double-overhead cam motor to the old Flat-head in my friend’s classic hotrod, and I am impressed. How much more complex it is.
Of course, my friend’s Flat-head is a very old design, plus it’s cast-iron; I think the 32-valve Ford V8 is cast-aluminum.
Casting technology back then isn’t what it is now.
Plus the Ford Flat-head was a gross polluter. My friend drove that old Ford 20 miles to my house, and the old Flat-head burped antifreeze all over my garage floor.
And you could smell the pollutants at idle; like unburnt gasoline and leaking oil.
His car filled my garage with aromas.
A Flat-head was carbureted; the 32-valve V8 is fuel-injected. Fuel-injection is much more precise than carburetion; it can meet pollution requirements.
My friend’s Flatty is hot-rodded. Those cylinder-head castings are cast aluminum by Offenhauser. Ford’s cylinder-head castings were unfinned cast-iron. Offy’s (Offenhauser) heads were higher compression, to make more power.


Wow! (Photo by BobbaLew.)

A few years ago I saw a red customized ’56 Ford pickup-truck (illustrated above) at a car-show in nearby Canandaigua.
The owner had wrenched in a 32-valve V8, probably the earlier 4.6 liter motor.
As I got set to depart, and as others were leaving, I heard a fabulous moan out on the four-lane that passed the car-show.
It was that ’56 Ford pickup being wound through the gears, leaving.
What a sound!
Used to be the Small-Block Chevy was the crate-motor of choice.
But now I see Ford is making the 32-valve V8 available as a crate-motor.
Despite being a Chevy-man, I’d take the Ford!
Double-overhead-cams, four valves per cylinder; that is state-of-the-art technology, what crotch-rocket motorcycles are doing.
By comparison, Chevrolet (and Corvette) are still in the Dark-Ages.
The Chevrolet Small-Block can be made immensely powerful. The Small-Block almost rules NASCAR — 700+ horsepower.
Do the same for a four-cam Ford, and you’d be pushing 1,000. (What NASCAR won’t allow.)
General Motors is making a four-cam 32-valve V8, the Cadillac Northstar engine, which will soon be replaced by a similar design. —Except it was rather smallish compared to the Corvette motor.
Nevertheless, it should be in the ‘Vette.
The Small-Block is done. It’s been around over 50 years.

• “Canandaigua” (“cannan-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.

It’s all about intimidation, baby!

I hear tell an important football game was played yesterday (Sunday, February 6, 2011).
As has been the case for years, we didn’t watch.
In fact, we didn’t even try.
We have in the past, but after about five-to-10 minutes it becomes just another football game, excruciating boring.
Almost as boring as golf, or as a friend said, the Tour de France.
“Are they done pedaling yet?” she’d ask. “Pedal-pedal-pedal-pedal.”
Football seems to be an all-American celebration of mayhem and madness.
Like this is what would happen to Osama bin Laden, if we could just find him.
Giant thugs smashing each other.
The goal is to sack, or protect, the quarterback.
I still have the image of a defensive player strutting around doing a “hee-yah” Viking victory-dance.
He had just sacked the quarterback.
With any luck the sacking will be so hurtful the quarterback will have to be removed from the field on a stretcher.
Like with a traumatic brain-injury, or at least a concussion.
The thugs think they are above the law, and can rape and pillage with abandon.
I suppose if you played football in high-school or college, professional football would be interesting — like to score touchdowns despite all the mayhem and madness.
I hear this game was won by the Green Bay Packers.
I didn’t know who to root for.
On the one hand I had a really great girlfriend in high-school originally from Pittsburgh, so I was for the Steelers.
On the other hand, Green Bay is a small-town community-owned football team.
Plus the Steelers had already won six championships.
But I couldn’t get interested.
Too many distractions, like the Internet and e-mail.
A friend who played ice-hockey had it best: “It’s all about intimidation, baby!”
Turning your opponent into a cowering wuss.
Zippity-doo.
“Here, see this stick, kid? Ya smash it over the head of your opponent.”
And a lineman, having just sacked the opposing team’s quarterback, gets to strut around in a “hee-yah” Viking victory-dance.

Agga-bur-yay yoo-yoo

As of yesterday, Saturday, February 5, 2011, yrs trly is 67 years old.
Born that day in Cooper Hospital, Camden, New Jersey, a 1944 model.
Still short of “old fartdom,” which in my humble opinion is not until I reach 70; and 13 years shy of “geezerdom,” which begins at age-80.
In other words, I am still a “crusty old curmudgeon,” which I became when I attained age-60.
This means I get to crank age-67 into the cardio-machines at the Canandaigua YMCA, instead of age-66.
And I get to tell my friend Michelle, the exercise-coach in the Canandaigua YMCA Exercise-Gym, it feels like my 67-year-old knees are gonna continue to let me run.
Michelle, probably in her 40s, is unfortunately having problems with her knees.
All I take is a daily fish-oil tablet, 720 mg.
Plus drink lots of water.
I don’t run very fast any more, but I still can.
Sugar is also verboten, e.g. soda-pop.
Same with salt, which I don’t use at all.
We don’t have a salt-shaker.
My younger siblings all noisily insist I’m post-war baby-boom, that Boomers are no-good lazy layabouts.
But 1944 is not post-war.
World War Two was still on.
To me, the post-war baby-boom is about 1946 through 1950 or so.
Actually, the scuttlebutt is clear through 1960, which means my younger brothers, 1957 and 1958, are technically the Boomers they so loudly bad-mouth.
Although I never thought of them as that.
I’ve always felt the post-war baby-boom ended about 1950.
So I’m pre-Boomer, but at the cusp.
In fifth grade (1955) I had to do double-sessions, noon to 5 p.m.
Many large schools were built in anticipation of the post-war baby-boom.
I did high-school in new buildings, although in two different states.
In south Jersey, seventh grade was in a partially finished new high-school building.
In northern Delaware, eighth and part of ninth grades were in a new junior-high building.
The remainder of grade nine, and the higher grades, were in a just-built high-school, which became grades 10-12 after I graduated.
As part of my birthday I got a phonecall from my sister in Fort Lauderdale, Fla.
She and I are the oldest, both in our 60s. (I’m the oldest.)
She was born in 1945.
She is also not a Boomer; conceived during the war, and born shortly after it ended.
Every year on her birthday I call her to sing Happy Birthday.
“Agga-bur-yay yoo-yoo, agga-bur-yay yoo-yoo.”
I had a kid brother born in 1954 with Down Syndrome, and that was how he sang it.
He never left home; he was not institutionalized by my parents, the classiest thing they ever did.
Back then people with Down Syndrome were often institutionalized.
But my mother refused.
I was blow-drying my hair after showering:
“Agga-bur-yay yoo-yoo, agga-bur-yay yoo-yoo.”

CHU3140

As received. (Photo by BobbaLew.)

CHU3140 is eight years old.
Yesterday (Friday, February 4, 2011) I sent a renewal of its registration to the New York State Department of Motor Vehicles.
CHU3140 is our Honda CR-V purchased new in March, 2003, from Ontario Honda. CHU3140 is the plate-number we were issued.
It replaced our “Faithful Hunda,” a 1989, the best car we ever owned.
160,000 miles, 13 years, and never in the shop.
But it had been smashed up; the insurance company totaled it for $500.
I wasn’t sure I wanted to buy another Honda, since cars like “the Faithful Hunda” were no longer available.
But I was tilting toward Honda, it being reliable.
The Faithful Hunda was a car, a stationwagon, but All-Wheel-Drive.
It never got stuck.
Plus it was extremely dog-friendly. A low flat floor with plenty of inside roof clearance.
Beyond that the rear seats folded up to fill the dog-swallowing gap usually behind the front seats.
We looked at other brands, mainly Subaru.
They didn’t have a flat floor back then, plus they had a dog-swallowing gap behind the front seats.
I’d have to carve a plywood floor.
I have before, but it’s a pain.
Plus the Sube didn’t have the inside clearance of our Faithful Hunda.
And it was cramped.
I’d need to buy the largest Subaru, the Forester, to get the room I needed.
Back then the Forester was a bread-van.
The CR-V was bigger than our Faithful Hunda, with a much larger engine; 2.4 liters as opposed to 1.6.
“Get this,” the dealer said. “The CR-V gets 26 mpg highway.”
“Old car got 29,” I snapped.
But the CR-V was a Honda, and the Faithful Hunda had never been in the shop.
So we ended up buying the CR-V.
I figured a Sube would be just as reliable, but it was too dog unfriendly.
The rear seats of the CR-V fold up to cover the dog-swallowing gap, but they don’t fill it.
Folded up, they partially block a dog entering.
Our current dog, Scarlett, can handle this, but previous dogs couldn’t.
The CR-V is also a truck.
It rides high.
It drives like a car, but is a truck.
Use the brakes hard, and the rear wheels lock and slide.
But it can be driven distances comfortably.
If you don’t mind the measly fuel-capacity, only about 260-270 miles highway (220-240 miles stop-and-go).
We considered trading it two years ago for a car, a Suzuki SX4 stationwagon.

Suzuki SX4.

But with an SX4 I have to remove the rear seats, and carve a plywood floor to cover the dog-swallowing gap behind the front seats.
We road-tested an SX4, but there were two things wrong with it:
—1) My wife didn’t like the extra window between the windshield and the front-door — all to extravagantly slope the windshield.
—2) I could never adjust things so the top of the steering-wheel didn’t block the top of the speedometer.
What a pain! Duck to keep track of expressway speed.
Plus if I remove the rear seats to make it more dog-friendly, I’m removing passenger capacity.
Our CR-V will comfortably hold four.
With the Suzie-Q I’d be down to two.
Plus the SX4 was cramped.
It didn’t have the inside size of our CR-V.
About all it had was All-Wheel-Drive, and compared to our CR-V was a car.
So we kept the CR-V, and will probably continue to keep it.
Last Fall I discovered it was great to chase trains with.
I’m a railfan, and have been since age-two (I’m 67).
We drove up a dirt-track my friend Phil Faudi (“FOW-dee;” as in “wow”) was afraid to try with his new Buick.
The CR-V has All-Wheel-Drive and high ground-clearance.
Yet it’s not a Jeep.
It doesn’t assault your senses.
Driving it long distance is comfortable, which it still does reliably.
So now it’s eight years old, probably about half-way through our ownership.
A while ago I was riding with Art Dana, the retired Regional Transit bus-driver who has since died.
Back then it was seven years old.
“Still like new,” he said.

• “The Faithful Hunda” is our 1989 Honda Civic All-Wheel-Drive stationwagon, by far the BEST car we’ve ever owned. (Called a “Hunda” because that was how a fellow bus-driver at Transit pronounced it. [For 16&1/2 years, 1977-1993, I drove transit bus for Regional Transit Service (RTS — “Transit”) in Rochester, NY, a public employer, the transit-bus operator in Rochester and its environs. My stroke October 26, 1993 ended that.])
• “Scarlett” is our current dog; a rescue Irish-Setter. She’s five, and is our sixth Irish-Setter. (A “rescue Irish Setter” is an Irish Setter rescued from a bad home; e.g. abusive or a puppy-mill. By getting a rescue-dog, we avoid puppydom, but the dog is often messed up. —Scarlett isn't too bad.)
• Phil Faudi is the railfan extraordinaire from Altoona, PA, who supplied all-day train-chases for $125. I did my first two years ago, alone, and it blew my mind. He called them “Adventure-Tours.” Faudi would bring along his rail-scanner, tuned to 160.8, the Norfolk Southern operating channel, and he knew the whereabouts of every train, as the engineers called out the signals, and various lineside defect-detectors fired off. He knew each train by symbol, and knew all the back-roads, and how long it took to get to various photo locations — and also what made a successful photo — lighting, drama, etc. I’d let Phil do the monitoring. I have a scanner myself, but I left it behind. Phil knew every train on the scanner, where it was, and how long it took to beat it to a prime photo location. My first time was a slow day, yet we got 20 trains. Next Tour we got 30 trains in one nine-hour day. —Phil gave it up; fear of liability suits, and that newish Buick he’s afraid he’d mess up.
• Art Dana was the retired bus-driver from Regional Transit with fairly severe Parkinson's disease.

FineReader

The other day (probably Tuesday, February 1, 2011) I installed ABBYY FineReader5 SprintXE OCR scanning software on this here machine.
I’ve wanted to do it for some time.
It was on my old tower, so I wanted to install it on this new laptop.
Plus now I had a document to scan.
OCR software is just that: optical-character-recognition.
You scan a book-page or a letter, etc., the OCR recognizes the letters, and creates a computer text-file.
I used to do that at the Mighty Mezz — in fact, it probably saved my job.
Letters-to-the Editor would come, usually as print-outs. I would OCR scan them, and turn in the Letter-to-the-Editor in maybe 15 minutes.
The Executive Vice-President was fixing to lay me off, but the Executive Editor stepped in.
“Why would I ever wanna do that?” he asked. “He’s giving me four or five Letters-to-the-Editor each day.”
One morning the City-Editor asked me if I could OCR-scan a fax she had just received.
It would be the lead story in that day’s newspaper.
About 15 minutes — ready to print.
Although we had an Editor “improve” it.
It ran in that day’s newspaper.
You could never have done that without OCR software — although I hope by now that stringer-reporter is filing by e-mail.
(With that you could run it the same day too.)
My ABBYY FineReader5 SprintXE was one of two supplementary computer-applications that came with my huge Epson 10000XL scanner.
While using it, I noticed an “update” button.
“We see you have the ‘FineReader’ that came with your Epson scanner. Very basic. You should upgrade to real OCR software.”
Whoa! Not so fast! I’m not scanning a book. I only use this software occasionally, hardly ever.
I noticed a free 30-day trial.
Nope; what I got is fine for what I do.
Nowhere near what I was doing at the Mighty Mezz — and even that was piecemeal.

• The “Mighty Mezz” is the Canandaigua Daily-Messenger newspaper, from where I retired over five years ago. Best job I ever had — I worked there almost 10 years. (“Canandaigua” [“cannan-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.)
• A “stringer-reporter” is a reporter who doesn’t actually work from the MessengerPost Newspapers building in Canandaigua. (“MessengerPost“ because the Messenger bought the suburban [Rochester] Post weeklies when their publisher retired.)