Monthly Calendar-Report for April 2013
(We are fast-approaching the one-year anniversary of my wife’s death, April 17th.
Yet here I am cranking out these calendar-reports.
Recently my friend who daycares my dog while I work out at the nearby Canandaigua YMCA, eyed my motorcycle in my garage, and asked “Are you gonna get this thing on the road this year?”
“I’m thinking of selling it,” I said. “I’m 69, and writing is more fun. Between riding motorbike and writing I get my pen out.”
So the Monthly Calendar-Reports continue, despite the incredible sadness engendered by the dreadful fate that’s befallen me.)
Train 20T eastbound climbs The Hill toward the summit. (Photo by BobbaLew with Phil Faudi.)
—The April 2013 entry of my own calendar is very much composed; that is, the final image was in my head before I took the picture.
It’s a reprise of the picture below, taken off the Route 53 overpass north (railroad east) of Cresson, PA (“KRESS-in”) over the old Pennsy mainline up the west slope of Allegheny ridge.
The Pennsylvania Railroad no longer exists. It’s now owned and operated by Norfolk Southern Railroad, a 1982 merger of Norfolk & Western and Southern Railway.
The two tracks at left are on the right-of-way of the original Pennsylvania Railroad. They’re lower.
The tracks at right the train is on — there are three tracks — are the right-of-way of the New Portage Railroad, which Pennsy came to own.
The New Portage was rectification of the original Portage Railroad, part of the state of PA’s Public-Works System, meant to compete with New York’s immensely-successful Erie Canal.
Allegheny Ridge couldn’t be canaled; it had to be portaged. That was the original Portage Railroad, but grading was so rudimentary when it was built, the railroad had to include 10 steep inclined-planes.
Locomotives, or horses, pulled the cars between planes, but at every plane the cars had to be winched up the plane to the next level.
There also was transloading the canal-packets to railroad-cars. The entire system was cumbersome and slow, poor competition for the Erie Canal, which was through, so didn’t involve transloading.
Philadelphia capitalists were so worried about losing trade they founded the Pennsylvania Railroad to circumvent the state’s Public-Works System. Pennsy was a through railroad with no transloading. It could also operate at night — the state Public-Works refused to operate at night. —And Pennsy could operate in Winter, when canals froze.
As previously noted, the New Portage Railroad was built to circumvent the original Portage Railroad with its inclined-planes.
But Pennsy put the State Public-Works System out-of-business, and it was offered for sale to Pennsy.
Pennsy decided to incorporate the New Portage in its crossing of Allegheny ridge.
The New Portage had a tunnel atop the mountain — Pennsy added it to its own tunnel under Allegheny ridge.
Pennsy also eventually reactivated the New Portage alignment after it was earlier abandoned. By so doing, more tracks were added across the mountain.
So now most eastbound trains take the New Portage alignment up to the summit. If not, they take the rightmost track of the original Pennsy alignment, Track Three.
On the New Portage alignment they use New Portage tunnel, then they ramp down to the original Pennsy right-of-way downhill, which was lower.
The New Portage alignment east of the tunnel was since been abandoned again.
Need for it disappeared, and a large highway was built in that valley, obstructing the right-of-way.
This picture is from September 2012, my second train-chase since my wife died.
I had my new camera-body, the Nikon D7000 that replaced my defective Nikon D100.
Nothing went haywire, but it was raining slightly.
I and Faudi pulled up to the Route 53 overpass, and walked out on the bridge. Faudi calls it “High-Bridge;” I call it “five-tracks,” since five tracks pass under it.
Four and Three are on the old Pennsy alignment. Four is currently westbound only; Three can be either direction.
Two and One and Main-Eight are up on the Portage right-of-way.
Two and One are currently eastbound only, and Main-Eight is storage for heavy trains awaiting movement over The Hill, usually coal.
We are on the West Slope — the train is climbing The Hill, its steepest and most difficult ascent eastbound.
The train is double-stacks. I walked back to have the middle of the train be a foreground. Every photograph needs a foreground.
The radio-feed picture doesn’t do that, yet looks pretty good.
The overpass is long, so you can change the photo-angle somewhat.
I’m using strong telephoto.
The only thing I lack in my picture is sunlight, and perhaps a second train descending on Three.
The radio-feed picture has both. All it lacks is a foreground.
“Radio-feed” because it’s atop Station-Inn’s radio-feed website.
Station-Inn is a bed-and-breakfast for railfans in Cresson, and its radio-feed transmits Norfolk Southern operating radio over the Internet.
Station-Inn is a dump! I’ve stayed there, and I prefer Tunnel-Inn in nearby Gallitzin (“guh-LITT-zin;” as in “get”). It’s right next to the old Pennsy Tunnel-mouth.
This photo is extremely posed. I’ve been wanting to take it for years. It works fairly well, but isn’t extraordinary. What it lacks is sunlight, plus perhaps a second train descending on Three.
Sunlight alone would make it extraordinary.
The radio-feed picture has both sunlight and a second train descending.
But it lacks the foreground I had.
Some day I’ll get my extraordinary photograph.
(None of the calendar-pictures are extraordinary. I’ve arranged them by interest as photographs, although my All-Pennsy color calendar is rather plain. My Oxman Hotrod Calendar is a good photograph of a hotrod that turns me off. Next is my Norfolk Southern Employees’ Photography-Contest calendar, a nice photograph, but also sort of plain.)
Eastbound auto-racks at Cove, PA, on the old Pennsy main. (Photo by John Molesevich.)
—The April 2013 image in my Norfolk Southern Employees’ Photography-Contest calendar is at a popular railfan location in Cove, PA.
For some insane reason “Cove Secondary” is in my head, but it’s not valid.
“Secondary” being a branch-line.
I Googled “Cove Secondary” and got Cove Secondary School.
I then Google-mapped Cole, and it’s along the Susquehanna (“suss-kwe-HA-nuh;” as in “hah”) river just north of Harrisburg.
But before the railroad turns inland along the Juniata river (“june-eee-AT-uh”) across the state.
It’s not a very dramatic picture. It looks like many of the pictures I’ve taken with Phil Faudi, although I’ve snagged a few dramatic pictures.
Photographer Molesevich works as an electrician at Enola Yard (“aye-NOLE-uh;” as in “hay”) across the river from Harrisburg, which Pennsy built long ago to get its torrent of traffic out of congested Harrisburg.
It also was where Pennsy’s electrification began, and freight-trains were switched to electric locomotives. That electrification was de-energized by Conrail in the ‘80s; Conrail being a successor to Pennsy (and Penn-Central, the merger of Pennsy and New York Central that failed).
The wire is gone, but the lineside towers that held it are still up.
Molesevich works nights and gets off at 7 a.m. He thereafter drives home up Routes 11 and 15 through Cove.
Molesevich was probably monitoring scanner transmissions, so he knew this eastbound was coming.
So he pulled off into the Cove railfan spot.
I noticed a trackside parking-lot in my Google-map search, so I zeroed in on it in Google Street-Views.
It’s pictured at left.
It sure looks like a spot where railfans would congregate, and monitor rail-traffic from inside their parked cars.
I’ve done it myself. There are places like that in Rochester (NY), only it’s CSX not Norfolk Southern.
The CSX line is the old New York Central main, the Water-Level.
“Water-Level” because it more-or-less followed the Erie Canal, so had easy grades, unlike Pennsy.
It too is very busy, much like Norfolk Southern’s old Pennsy main.
1970 Plymouth GTX. (Photo by Peter Harholdt©.)
—The April 2013 entry in my Motorbooks Musclecars calendar is a 1970 Plymouth GTX, a car that had been eclipsed by the Plymouth RoadRunner.
The RoadRunner was a smashing success, and would appeal to yrs trly.
It was a dirt-cheap hotrod. Instead of souping up your ’55 Chevy, and all the insanity that might entail, you just went to your Plymouth dealer and purchased a RoadRunner.
Hotrod performance without the acrimony; and you could street-race right away.
The GTX was Plymouth’s response to the original G-T-O Pontiac. It was also fairly expensive.
But the GTX was more a musclecar; it came with a 440 cubic-inch engine. You could get a 440 or Hemi (“hem-EEEE;” not “he-mee”) optional in a RoadRunner, but low-line RoadRunners came with a 383 cubic-inch engine, not a 440, but still enough to instill fear in the owners of SmallBlock Chevy hotrods.
What we have here is a nice-looking photograph of a car not that interesting to me. —I tilt toward the Roadrunner.
I guess it’s my paternal grandmother’s genes; frugality, yet spiced with hotrod performance.
The RoadRunner was extremely basic. What you got were el-cheapo fittings mixed with hotrod performance. Four-on-the-floor with cloth-covered bench seats.
The GTX was a better car, but more expensive.
Cruisin’. (Photo by Don Wood©.)
—The April 2013 entry of my Audio-Visual Designs black-and-white All-Pennsy Calendar is a Don Wood picture, although not one of his extraordinary ones.
Wood is gone, but the Audio-Visual Designs black-and-white All-Pennsy Calendar was started with his photographs in the late ‘60s.
The Audio-Visual Designs black-and-white All-Pennsy Calendar was the first one I got, probably their ’69 calendar, which was probably their third.
Some of Wood’s pictures were so dramatic they ended up on my wall.
Wood’s photograph of the Mt. Carmel ore-train is the most dramatic train-picture I’ve ever had.
Thanks to Wood I also learned of K4 #612, the best K4 on the New York & Long Branch.
The New York & Long Branch was a Jersey Central line in north Jersey Pennsy got trackage-rights on.
Pennsy did so by threatening to build a competing railroad and put New York & Long Branch out of business.
The purpose was commuter-service from north Jersey to New York City.
Pennsy operated electric out of New York City, then junctioned to the New York & Long Branch.
A lot of what operated on NY&LB was Pennsy commuter-service.
But to operate on NY&LB Pennsy had to switch to non-electrified locomotives, for example K4 #612, one of many K4s used on NY&LB.
612 was not an ordinary K4. It had a front-end throttle (on the superheater header), not in the steam-dome, as was common when K4s were built.
612 was so good they ran it on an end-of-steam fan-trip, pictured above.
I have other Wood pictures of 612. Best was his panning-shot at 50-60 mph!
The Audio-Visual Designs black-and-white All-Pennsy Calendar has since branched out beyond Wood, yet here’s Wood trying again with a Pennsy M1 Mountain (4-8-2), a very successful freight-engine.
The M1 was retired late because it was so well-suited to moving freight over Pennsy’s Middle Division, Harrisburg to Altoona, and slightly uphill. —Among other Pennsy lines.
The M1 Mountain was supposed to replace the K4 Pacific (4-6-2), but it didn’t. This might have been because its driving-wheels were only 72-inch diameter, a compromise for moving freight.
The K4 had 80-inch drivers, great for boomin’-and-zoomin’.
The M1 was great for 40-50-60 mph westbound on the Middle Division, slightly uphill from Harrisburg to Altoona.
Tie a mixed-freight to her tail, and let ‘er cruise!
Pennsy wasn’t the last steam-railroad in the nation; that was Norfolk & Western.
But Pennsy hung on longer than most, mainly because it moved so much coal, the fuel for steam-locomotives.
But also because the M1 Mountain was so well-suited for its assignments; here taking freight toward Buffalo on the easy gradients of central PA.
In northwestern PA, toward Buffalo and Erie, the grades became stiffer. So Pennsy switched to something better-suited than the M1, like diesels, or earlier the I1 Decapod (2-10-0).
Huh? (Photo by Philip Makanna©.)
—The April 2013 entry of my Ghosts WWII warbirds calendar is a dramatic photograph of a German fighter-plane I’m not familiar with, the Focke-wolf 190A-9.
I wasn’t aware the Luftwaffe had a radial-engined fighter-plane.
Thinking of German fighter-planes I think of the Messerschmitt Bf 109, which had a water-cooled V12 engine.
The engine was Daimler-Benz, and was inverted, upside-down compared to American and British V12 airplane engines.
As I understand it, the Messerschmitt V12 was also fuel-injected, which meant the engine always operated in extreme maneuvers. The American V12s were carbureted, and could starve for fuel. —Like if the carburetor drained empty during a high-G maneuver.
I’ll let my WWII warbirds site detail it:
“The Fw 190 is widely regarded as Germany’s best fighter aircraft of WWII. Its appearance in the skies over France in early 1941 was a rude shock to the Allies, as it was clearly superior to any other plane. For nearly a year, until the debut of the Spitfire IX, the Fw 190 was the unmatched champion of the air war.
First flown on June 1st, 1939, the Fw 190 served for the duration of the war. Allied bombers dreaded the sight of these potent aircraft, as did the fighters who provided cover for them. Arguably, the Fw 190’s greatest impact on the Allied war effort was to spur ever-greater advances in technology and aircraft design to counter its threat.”
So it sounds like the Focke-wolf 190A-9 was a smashing success.
Despite my never hearing of it.
But it ain’t pretty, not like the Messerschmitt, which was fairly pretty, but not as pretty as a Mustang or Spitfire.
And the calendar airplane may be a reproduction. Only one remains airworthy, although others are under restoration.
A small number of reproductions, impostors, have been made.
Here it comes! (Photo by Fred Kern.)
—Bam, bam, bam, bam!
Another Pennsy M1 Mountain (4-8-2).
The April 2013 entry of my All-Pennsy color calendar is an M1 Mountain (4-8-2) getting rolling westbound out of Pennsy’s Enola Yard near Harrisburg.
Surely the train is headed west on Pennsy’s storied Middle Division for Altoona. The picture is March 10th, 1957.
M1s lasted so long because they were so well suited for this duty. Cruising at 40-50-60 mph on the slight uphill grade of the Middle Division.
Another Fred Kern photograph. Others have been in this calendar. They’re not as extraordinary as Don Wood, but they’re color. Don Wood’s are black-and-white. —This looks like it might even be a 35mm color-slide.
The original calendar image was blue-tinted, I had to hit it fairly hard with Photoshop’s® color-adjustment.
It still is bluish in a plume of steam beside the tender.
But I had to not push too hard. Otherwise it looked strange.
Slide-colors did this over time. The red dye would fade or bleach out, and you ended up with bluish tint.
Last month’s calendar-image of a Pennsy K4 Pacific (4-6-2) was blue-tinted too, slightly. It looked good enough I forgot to do it.
I notice another fan to the left. The car looks like a ’56 Buick.
1957, and Pennsy is still using steam.
No doubt Kern was upset that fan was also in his picture, along with the car.
Yet here it comes! Pounding and thrashing. Steam looking triumphant.
I remember how much we hated diesels back then; “growlers” we called ‘em. They lacked the drama and majesty of steam.
Yet look at that towering column of smoke! NO WAY could that ever get past the pollution nannies.
That smoke will dissipate.
Yet you better not hang your laundry lineside.
It would get showered with soot.
I remember as a child mothers called authorities if a steam-locomotive disgorged soot all over their laundry hung outside to dry.
I have recent video of restored Nickel-Plate excursion steam-locomotive #765.
A sooty black pillar of smoke is erupting out its stack. I’m sure the pollution nannies had to look the other way.
I rode behind 765. I had to wear swim-goggles to keep the cinders from my eyes.
Over-slammed!
—I wouldn’t touch this thing with a 10-foot pole!
The April 2013 entry of my Oxman Hotrod Calendar is a radically lowered 1932 Ford pickup.
In my humble opinion the hot-rodders went too far.
The top was chopped seven inches, the body was sectioned six inches, and then channeled another six inches.
How does anyone sit in such a thing and drive it?
The top-chop doesn’t look too bad. Seven inches is pretty extreme, but the top still looks fairly normal, or should I say “normal” compared to the other extremes?
Seven inches of metal was cut out of the side verticals so the top-roof could be lowered.
(I remember seeing a ‘70s Chevy pickup at a car-show; its top had been chopped about eight inches. The windows were gun-slits. How did anyone sit in such a thing, no less drive it?)
Then the body-sides were “sectioned:” six inches of metal cut out of the body-sides so the measurement top-to-bottom is six inches less. Which radically reduces the room for a driver, unless he’s a midget.
Then the body was “channeled” another six inches so it could sit lower on the frame-rails.
The car (truck) still has a frame. Channels are fabricated into the body-bottom so the whole kibosh could sit lower on the frame-rails.
The end result is the seats are down between the frame-rails.
They’d have to be to allow clearance for an adult human-being.
Even then I bet a driver, once folded into this abomination, would hit his head on the roof.
Only a midget or a small child could operate this thing.
And beyond that, how does one even drive it? Them running-boards would bottom mounting a driveway.
It sits so low, even the headlight-nacelles go above the radiator-shell. —Which looks silly!
I’m sorry, but my sense of practicality overpower the coolness.
When I was in high-school I saw a radically customized 1949 Mercury, chopped, sectioned and channelled. It looked great, very well done, a master body-work.
But the driver had to sit on the floor in the back-seat area. The Mercury also bottomed leaving the fast-food joint.
Yet here I am cranking out these calendar-reports.
Recently my friend who daycares my dog while I work out at the nearby Canandaigua YMCA, eyed my motorcycle in my garage, and asked “Are you gonna get this thing on the road this year?”
“I’m thinking of selling it,” I said. “I’m 69, and writing is more fun. Between riding motorbike and writing I get my pen out.”
So the Monthly Calendar-Reports continue, despite the incredible sadness engendered by the dreadful fate that’s befallen me.)
Train 20T eastbound climbs The Hill toward the summit. (Photo by BobbaLew with Phil Faudi.)
—The April 2013 entry of my own calendar is very much composed; that is, the final image was in my head before I took the picture.
It’s a reprise of the picture below, taken off the Route 53 overpass north (railroad east) of Cresson, PA (“KRESS-in”) over the old Pennsy mainline up the west slope of Allegheny ridge.
The Pennsylvania Railroad no longer exists. It’s now owned and operated by Norfolk Southern Railroad, a 1982 merger of Norfolk & Western and Southern Railway.
The two tracks at left are on the right-of-way of the original Pennsylvania Railroad. They’re lower.
The tracks at right the train is on — there are three tracks — are the right-of-way of the New Portage Railroad, which Pennsy came to own.
The New Portage was rectification of the original Portage Railroad, part of the state of PA’s Public-Works System, meant to compete with New York’s immensely-successful Erie Canal.
Allegheny Ridge couldn’t be canaled; it had to be portaged. That was the original Portage Railroad, but grading was so rudimentary when it was built, the railroad had to include 10 steep inclined-planes.
Locomotives, or horses, pulled the cars between planes, but at every plane the cars had to be winched up the plane to the next level.
There also was transloading the canal-packets to railroad-cars. The entire system was cumbersome and slow, poor competition for the Erie Canal, which was through, so didn’t involve transloading.
Philadelphia capitalists were so worried about losing trade they founded the Pennsylvania Railroad to circumvent the state’s Public-Works System. Pennsy was a through railroad with no transloading. It could also operate at night — the state Public-Works refused to operate at night. —And Pennsy could operate in Winter, when canals froze.
As previously noted, the New Portage Railroad was built to circumvent the original Portage Railroad with its inclined-planes.
But Pennsy put the State Public-Works System out-of-business, and it was offered for sale to Pennsy.
Pennsy decided to incorporate the New Portage in its crossing of Allegheny ridge.
The New Portage had a tunnel atop the mountain — Pennsy added it to its own tunnel under Allegheny ridge.
Pennsy also eventually reactivated the New Portage alignment after it was earlier abandoned. By so doing, more tracks were added across the mountain.
So now most eastbound trains take the New Portage alignment up to the summit. If not, they take the rightmost track of the original Pennsy alignment, Track Three.
On the New Portage alignment they use New Portage tunnel, then they ramp down to the original Pennsy right-of-way downhill, which was lower.
The New Portage alignment east of the tunnel was since been abandoned again.
Need for it disappeared, and a large highway was built in that valley, obstructing the right-of-way.
This picture is from September 2012, my second train-chase since my wife died.
I had my new camera-body, the Nikon D7000 that replaced my defective Nikon D100.
Nothing went haywire, but it was raining slightly.
I and Faudi pulled up to the Route 53 overpass, and walked out on the bridge. Faudi calls it “High-Bridge;” I call it “five-tracks,” since five tracks pass under it.
Four and Three are on the old Pennsy alignment. Four is currently westbound only; Three can be either direction.
Two and One and Main-Eight are up on the Portage right-of-way.
Two and One are currently eastbound only, and Main-Eight is storage for heavy trains awaiting movement over The Hill, usually coal.
We are on the West Slope — the train is climbing The Hill, its steepest and most difficult ascent eastbound.
The train is double-stacks. I walked back to have the middle of the train be a foreground. Every photograph needs a foreground.
The radio-feed picture doesn’t do that, yet looks pretty good.
The overpass is long, so you can change the photo-angle somewhat.
I’m using strong telephoto.
The only thing I lack in my picture is sunlight, and perhaps a second train descending on Three.
The radio-feed picture has both. All it lacks is a foreground.
“Radio-feed” because it’s atop Station-Inn’s radio-feed website.
Station-Inn is a bed-and-breakfast for railfans in Cresson, and its radio-feed transmits Norfolk Southern operating radio over the Internet.
Station-Inn is a dump! I’ve stayed there, and I prefer Tunnel-Inn in nearby Gallitzin (“guh-LITT-zin;” as in “get”). It’s right next to the old Pennsy Tunnel-mouth.
This photo is extremely posed. I’ve been wanting to take it for years. It works fairly well, but isn’t extraordinary. What it lacks is sunlight, plus perhaps a second train descending on Three.
Sunlight alone would make it extraordinary.
The radio-feed picture has both sunlight and a second train descending.
But it lacks the foreground I had.
Some day I’ll get my extraordinary photograph.
(None of the calendar-pictures are extraordinary. I’ve arranged them by interest as photographs, although my All-Pennsy color calendar is rather plain. My Oxman Hotrod Calendar is a good photograph of a hotrod that turns me off. Next is my Norfolk Southern Employees’ Photography-Contest calendar, a nice photograph, but also sort of plain.)
Eastbound auto-racks at Cove, PA, on the old Pennsy main. (Photo by John Molesevich.)
—The April 2013 image in my Norfolk Southern Employees’ Photography-Contest calendar is at a popular railfan location in Cove, PA.
For some insane reason “Cove Secondary” is in my head, but it’s not valid.
“Secondary” being a branch-line.
I Googled “Cove Secondary” and got Cove Secondary School.
I then Google-mapped Cole, and it’s along the Susquehanna (“suss-kwe-HA-nuh;” as in “hah”) river just north of Harrisburg.
But before the railroad turns inland along the Juniata river (“june-eee-AT-uh”) across the state.
It’s not a very dramatic picture. It looks like many of the pictures I’ve taken with Phil Faudi, although I’ve snagged a few dramatic pictures.
Photographer Molesevich works as an electrician at Enola Yard (“aye-NOLE-uh;” as in “hay”) across the river from Harrisburg, which Pennsy built long ago to get its torrent of traffic out of congested Harrisburg.
It also was where Pennsy’s electrification began, and freight-trains were switched to electric locomotives. That electrification was de-energized by Conrail in the ‘80s; Conrail being a successor to Pennsy (and Penn-Central, the merger of Pennsy and New York Central that failed).
The wire is gone, but the lineside towers that held it are still up.
Molesevich works nights and gets off at 7 a.m. He thereafter drives home up Routes 11 and 15 through Cove.
Molesevich was probably monitoring scanner transmissions, so he knew this eastbound was coming.
So he pulled off into the Cove railfan spot.
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| The railfan parking-lot near Cove, PA. |
It’s pictured at left.
It sure looks like a spot where railfans would congregate, and monitor rail-traffic from inside their parked cars.
I’ve done it myself. There are places like that in Rochester (NY), only it’s CSX not Norfolk Southern.
The CSX line is the old New York Central main, the Water-Level.
“Water-Level” because it more-or-less followed the Erie Canal, so had easy grades, unlike Pennsy.
It too is very busy, much like Norfolk Southern’s old Pennsy main.
1970 Plymouth GTX. (Photo by Peter Harholdt©.)
—The April 2013 entry in my Motorbooks Musclecars calendar is a 1970 Plymouth GTX, a car that had been eclipsed by the Plymouth RoadRunner.
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| A 1969 RoadRunner. |
It was a dirt-cheap hotrod. Instead of souping up your ’55 Chevy, and all the insanity that might entail, you just went to your Plymouth dealer and purchased a RoadRunner.
Hotrod performance without the acrimony; and you could street-race right away.
The GTX was Plymouth’s response to the original G-T-O Pontiac. It was also fairly expensive.
But the GTX was more a musclecar; it came with a 440 cubic-inch engine. You could get a 440 or Hemi (“hem-EEEE;” not “he-mee”) optional in a RoadRunner, but low-line RoadRunners came with a 383 cubic-inch engine, not a 440, but still enough to instill fear in the owners of SmallBlock Chevy hotrods.
What we have here is a nice-looking photograph of a car not that interesting to me. —I tilt toward the Roadrunner.
I guess it’s my paternal grandmother’s genes; frugality, yet spiced with hotrod performance.
The RoadRunner was extremely basic. What you got were el-cheapo fittings mixed with hotrod performance. Four-on-the-floor with cloth-covered bench seats.
The GTX was a better car, but more expensive.
Cruisin’. (Photo by Don Wood©.)
—The April 2013 entry of my Audio-Visual Designs black-and-white All-Pennsy Calendar is a Don Wood picture, although not one of his extraordinary ones.
Wood is gone, but the Audio-Visual Designs black-and-white All-Pennsy Calendar was started with his photographs in the late ‘60s.
The Audio-Visual Designs black-and-white All-Pennsy Calendar was the first one I got, probably their ’69 calendar, which was probably their third.
Some of Wood’s pictures were so dramatic they ended up on my wall.
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| Photo by Don Wood©. |
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| Photo by Don Wood©. |
Thanks to Wood I also learned of K4 #612, the best K4 on the New York & Long Branch.
The New York & Long Branch was a Jersey Central line in north Jersey Pennsy got trackage-rights on.
Pennsy did so by threatening to build a competing railroad and put New York & Long Branch out of business.
The purpose was commuter-service from north Jersey to New York City.
Pennsy operated electric out of New York City, then junctioned to the New York & Long Branch.
A lot of what operated on NY&LB was Pennsy commuter-service.
But to operate on NY&LB Pennsy had to switch to non-electrified locomotives, for example K4 #612, one of many K4s used on NY&LB.
612 was not an ordinary K4. It had a front-end throttle (on the superheater header), not in the steam-dome, as was common when K4s were built.
612 was so good they ran it on an end-of-steam fan-trip, pictured above.
I have other Wood pictures of 612. Best was his panning-shot at 50-60 mph!
The Audio-Visual Designs black-and-white All-Pennsy Calendar has since branched out beyond Wood, yet here’s Wood trying again with a Pennsy M1 Mountain (4-8-2), a very successful freight-engine.
The M1 was retired late because it was so well-suited to moving freight over Pennsy’s Middle Division, Harrisburg to Altoona, and slightly uphill. —Among other Pennsy lines.
The M1 Mountain was supposed to replace the K4 Pacific (4-6-2), but it didn’t. This might have been because its driving-wheels were only 72-inch diameter, a compromise for moving freight.
The K4 had 80-inch drivers, great for boomin’-and-zoomin’.
The M1 was great for 40-50-60 mph westbound on the Middle Division, slightly uphill from Harrisburg to Altoona.
Tie a mixed-freight to her tail, and let ‘er cruise!
Pennsy wasn’t the last steam-railroad in the nation; that was Norfolk & Western.
But Pennsy hung on longer than most, mainly because it moved so much coal, the fuel for steam-locomotives.
But also because the M1 Mountain was so well-suited for its assignments; here taking freight toward Buffalo on the easy gradients of central PA.
In northwestern PA, toward Buffalo and Erie, the grades became stiffer. So Pennsy switched to something better-suited than the M1, like diesels, or earlier the I1 Decapod (2-10-0).
Huh? (Photo by Philip Makanna©.)
—The April 2013 entry of my Ghosts WWII warbirds calendar is a dramatic photograph of a German fighter-plane I’m not familiar with, the Focke-wolf 190A-9.
I wasn’t aware the Luftwaffe had a radial-engined fighter-plane.
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| Messerschmitt Bf 109 |
The engine was Daimler-Benz, and was inverted, upside-down compared to American and British V12 airplane engines.
As I understand it, the Messerschmitt V12 was also fuel-injected, which meant the engine always operated in extreme maneuvers. The American V12s were carbureted, and could starve for fuel. —Like if the carburetor drained empty during a high-G maneuver.
I’ll let my WWII warbirds site detail it:
“The Fw 190 is widely regarded as Germany’s best fighter aircraft of WWII. Its appearance in the skies over France in early 1941 was a rude shock to the Allies, as it was clearly superior to any other plane. For nearly a year, until the debut of the Spitfire IX, the Fw 190 was the unmatched champion of the air war.
First flown on June 1st, 1939, the Fw 190 served for the duration of the war. Allied bombers dreaded the sight of these potent aircraft, as did the fighters who provided cover for them. Arguably, the Fw 190’s greatest impact on the Allied war effort was to spur ever-greater advances in technology and aircraft design to counter its threat.”
So it sounds like the Focke-wolf 190A-9 was a smashing success.
Despite my never hearing of it.
But it ain’t pretty, not like the Messerschmitt, which was fairly pretty, but not as pretty as a Mustang or Spitfire.
And the calendar airplane may be a reproduction. Only one remains airworthy, although others are under restoration.
A small number of reproductions, impostors, have been made.
Here it comes! (Photo by Fred Kern.)—Bam, bam, bam, bam!
Another Pennsy M1 Mountain (4-8-2).
The April 2013 entry of my All-Pennsy color calendar is an M1 Mountain (4-8-2) getting rolling westbound out of Pennsy’s Enola Yard near Harrisburg.
Surely the train is headed west on Pennsy’s storied Middle Division for Altoona. The picture is March 10th, 1957.
M1s lasted so long because they were so well suited for this duty. Cruising at 40-50-60 mph on the slight uphill grade of the Middle Division.
Another Fred Kern photograph. Others have been in this calendar. They’re not as extraordinary as Don Wood, but they’re color. Don Wood’s are black-and-white. —This looks like it might even be a 35mm color-slide.
The original calendar image was blue-tinted, I had to hit it fairly hard with Photoshop’s® color-adjustment.
It still is bluish in a plume of steam beside the tender.
But I had to not push too hard. Otherwise it looked strange.
Slide-colors did this over time. The red dye would fade or bleach out, and you ended up with bluish tint.
Last month’s calendar-image of a Pennsy K4 Pacific (4-6-2) was blue-tinted too, slightly. It looked good enough I forgot to do it.
I notice another fan to the left. The car looks like a ’56 Buick.
1957, and Pennsy is still using steam.
No doubt Kern was upset that fan was also in his picture, along with the car.
Yet here it comes! Pounding and thrashing. Steam looking triumphant.
I remember how much we hated diesels back then; “growlers” we called ‘em. They lacked the drama and majesty of steam.
Yet look at that towering column of smoke! NO WAY could that ever get past the pollution nannies.
That smoke will dissipate.
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| 765. |
It would get showered with soot.
I remember as a child mothers called authorities if a steam-locomotive disgorged soot all over their laundry hung outside to dry.
I have recent video of restored Nickel-Plate excursion steam-locomotive #765.
A sooty black pillar of smoke is erupting out its stack. I’m sure the pollution nannies had to look the other way.
I rode behind 765. I had to wear swim-goggles to keep the cinders from my eyes.
Over-slammed!
—I wouldn’t touch this thing with a 10-foot pole!
The April 2013 entry of my Oxman Hotrod Calendar is a radically lowered 1932 Ford pickup.
In my humble opinion the hot-rodders went too far.
The top was chopped seven inches, the body was sectioned six inches, and then channeled another six inches.
How does anyone sit in such a thing and drive it?
The top-chop doesn’t look too bad. Seven inches is pretty extreme, but the top still looks fairly normal, or should I say “normal” compared to the other extremes?
Seven inches of metal was cut out of the side verticals so the top-roof could be lowered.
(I remember seeing a ‘70s Chevy pickup at a car-show; its top had been chopped about eight inches. The windows were gun-slits. How did anyone sit in such a thing, no less drive it?)
Then the body-sides were “sectioned:” six inches of metal cut out of the body-sides so the measurement top-to-bottom is six inches less. Which radically reduces the room for a driver, unless he’s a midget.
Then the body was “channeled” another six inches so it could sit lower on the frame-rails.
The car (truck) still has a frame. Channels are fabricated into the body-bottom so the whole kibosh could sit lower on the frame-rails.
The end result is the seats are down between the frame-rails.
They’d have to be to allow clearance for an adult human-being.
Even then I bet a driver, once folded into this abomination, would hit his head on the roof.
Only a midget or a small child could operate this thing.
And beyond that, how does one even drive it? Them running-boards would bottom mounting a driveway.
It sits so low, even the headlight-nacelles go above the radiator-shell. —Which looks silly!
I’m sorry, but my sense of practicality overpower the coolness.
When I was in high-school I saw a radically customized 1949 Mercury, chopped, sectioned and channelled. It looked great, very well done, a master body-work.
But the driver had to sit on the floor in the back-seat area. The Mercury also bottomed leaving the fast-food joint.
Labels: Monthly Calendar Report
posted by BobbaLew at 8:17 AM
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