New operating-system

The other night (Friday, September 20th, 2013), just before turning in, I fired up my iPhone to add some items to a grocery-list.
I keep my grocery-lists in my iPhone, so unlike Granny checking things off a paper list, I cruise the aisles at the supermarket, iPhone in hand, zapping items off my list as I get ‘em. —Pea soup: ZAP! Shredded-wheat: ZAP! Frozen soy-beans (edamame): ZAP!
But what I saw was not my usual iPhone fire-up.
Instead I got some message about updating my operating-system to iOS7.
“Oh dread,” I thought to myself. I can’t just add to my grocery list. I gotta figure out a new operating-system.
And it looked fairly extensive: 578 megs. (My first computer had a 40-meg hard-drive.)
I’m not a techno-maven. I’ve done fairly well figuring out my iPhone. It ain’t this laptop — to me it has limitations. But I’ve advanced to more than just using it as a phone.
“Oh well.” I thought. I’ve let my computer update itself, so let ‘er rip.
I didn’t use to, but a friend got me into it. She showed me I was being paranoid.
So I fingered the “download and install” button.
Thus began a long process.
A screen came up with a thin channel about two pixels wide. It displayed the width of the screen.
A black fill-in started marching slowly through the channel.
“Must be the download,” I thought. I put the phone down and headed for bed.
At the rate it was going, it might take all night.
No idea where the download was coming from, cellular network or my wi-fi. My phone has my wi-fi memorized.
I looked at my phone later as I turned out lights.
ZAP! A black fill-in roared across the screen.
“Must be the install,” I thought to myself.
Then my phone went blank.
I pressed the fire-up button, just like in the past.


George Follmer’s Trans-Am Mustang at Bridgehampton Race-track (my cellphone wallpaper). (Photo by BobbaLew.)

There was my wallpaper, that picture I took years ago of George Follmer in a Trans-Am Mustang racecar.
My phone wanted a password, apparently the password I set up minutes ago. With iOS7 my phone is password-protected. It wasn’t before. It won’t work without the password.
Okay, engage guile-and-cunning.
I tried my password, and suddenly my prior app display fell into place.
It was different, more glitzy, with slightly different icons.
But it was pretty much the same as before — and worked pretty much the same as before.
iOS7 seemed to be mainly an appearance upgrade.
I fingered my “notes” app, and updated my grocery-list.
The upgrade delayed my getting to bed about 15 minutes. I guess that’s the new definition of “saving time.”

TV is DONE

The other night (Thursday, September 19th, 2013) I sprayed a sick joke all over the Internet.
It’s a take-off of that silly GEICO ad where a camel celebrates that Wednesday is hump-day.
Almost immediately my e-mail began ringing with responses.
Most were familiar with the GEICO ad; one even sent me a YouTube link to the ad.
They weren’t watching TV! (Gasp!) They were fiddling their computers — like me.
Does anyone watch TV any more?
My TV reflects my inclination to watch it.
It’s tiny. It ain’t much.
The screen is only 13 inches wide; it was the cheapest I could find.
My brother-from-Boston wondered how I could have such a thing instead of a 52-inch “plasma-baby.”
“My money is in them ‘pyooter thingies,” I told him, pointing. This Apple MacBook Pro cost over $1,100. I have a giant Epson Expression 10000XL scanner with an almost 12-inch by 17-inch platen. It set me back almost $2,000. I have a gigantic Epson Stylus “Photo R3000” photo-quality inkjet printer that cost me almost 800 smackaroos. I bought that large so I can print maps on 17-inch wide paper.
My TV cost about $200.
I have video-cable, but only the most basic service.
What matters is my cable is also Internet-service.
My video-service is so basic it’s secret. About all it is is the local Rochester channels, plus a few others.
I don’t watch TV at all. My TV sits atop a DVD recorder, and that records the local and national news.
Which I play back while eating supper; although that’s only about 30-40 minutes, so I’m not watching all of it.
Nothing is worth watching. Oprah and Dr. Phil are a joke.
“The View” is unbearable. Will they please stop congratulating each other? As if yammering about something on “The View” gives it value and credence. Would Bach or Mozart have a chance?
And what passes for prime-time comedy is dreadfully boring.
It’s quarter-to-nine and my TV is silent.
Here I am banging away on this here laptop — it’s far more interesting.
As a railfan, I can monitor the railroad-radio near Altoona, PA; and even watch the trains pass on a webcam.
All via the Internet.
And I used to play my train-DVDs on my TV, but not any more. This here laptop will play DVDs, and the screen is much more realistic, and larger.
I was born in 1944, which means I came-of-age during the time TV became prevalent, 1949 through the early ‘50s.
The first TV I ever saw was my paternal grandparents’, a giant 400-pound box with only a tiny 8-inch screen.
On it we watched Jack Benny and Bing Crosby.
The first TV my parents had was an RCA black-and-white console with a 12-inch round picture-tube.
By then weight was down around 100 pounds, but we had it repaired a few times, and inside was a fiery-furnace of glowing red tubes.
TV at that time was broadcast over-the-air like radio. Every house had a two-pronged antenna strapped to its chimney — or on the roof, like ours.
You hoped a hurricane didn’t destroy it. —That happened to ours once.
On that TV I watched Hopalong Cassidy, Howdy-Doody, and The Lone Ranger.
News was “Camel News Caravan” with John Cameron Swayze, sponsored by Camel cigarettes.
My father, an ardent Christian against smoking, used to turn down (mute) the Camel ads.
We also watched “Texaco-Star Theater” with Milton Berle (“Uncle Milty”). —My father was a Texaco employee; he worked in their oil-refinery in south Jersey.
That TV lasted through when we moved from south Jersey to northern Delaware, when I was 13.
Then it broke, and my father was not about to have it fixed. He thought TV was evil.
I remember the disbelief and dismay of my high-school English-teacher that I couldn’t watch some Shakespeare play. —I think it was “Ides of March.”
About 1958 color-TV came out, but to my mind it wasn’t worth it.
This opinion lasted through college into marriage. —My college, ardently Christian, didn’t allow TV.
We went at least 10 years without TV, and our first was a small Sears black-and-white portable.
We were in Rochester, and TV came over rabbit-ears; only three channels at first, ABC, CBS, and NBC. Plus a public-TV channel, and then another advertising channel. (I guess Rochester had only one TV-channel at first; it’s not that large a market. In south Jersey and northern Delaware our TV came from Philadelphia, a very large market.)
By the early ‘80s color-TV was good enough for me to buy a Sony Trinitron®.
I also bought a Sony Beta tape-player.
Occasionally I’d record a Public-TV program for playback (like “Nova” with Carl Sagan); and we rented movies.
Video also went to cable transmission. I switched to cable in Rochester, and when it finally went by out front of our new house in West Bloomfield.
West Bloomfield is rural, so no cable at first.
I also was buying train-videos. I still have my Beta tapes; I’ve never got around to tossing them.
Beta went defunct, replaced by VHS. I have VHS train-tapes too.
At least three Sony Trinitrons® passed over-the-years before we got what I have now. —Which was our first flat-screen; everything prior wasn’t.
My current DVD recorder is no longer Sony; it’s “LG.” I got it because it will dub video-cassettes onto DVD. My DVR is number three or four, and has a problem which will eventually cause replacement.
Meanwhile my computer has become triumphant.
Our first was a Windows PC with only a 40-meg hard-drive. That was about 20 years ago.
Since then I switched to Apple Macintosh, but mainly because the newspaper where I worked used MAC.
A beige G-3 Apple desktop replaced the PC, and the G-3 was replaced with a G-4 tower I still have. The G-4 was overkill when I bought it; a 60-gig hard-drive with two megs of RAM.
This MacBook Pro has a 500-gig hard-drive, and four megs of RAM; that hard-drive is big enough to swallow the entire Pacific fleet.
It took 50 years, I’d say.
Television has become stupid.
It’s no longer worth watching.
Even the sports-games my brother watches on his plasma-baby (football and baseball) are boring to me, including NASCAR, and I am (was) a car-racing-geek.
I’ve tried to watch the Super-Bowl, but I lose interest in minutes and fire up this computer. I can stand about 15 minutes of the Super-Bowl.
TV has become worthless, which my father asserted 40 years ago.
But there was coverage of the Kennedy assassination, the satellite launches and the Moon-landings; which more-or-less justify the medium.
The Kennedy assassination was while I was in college, so I was shut out. The Moon-landings etc. were while we were TV-less.
But......
Will anyone be fiddling their computers in 30-50 years?
Will the Internet become moribund?
I’ve heard people are more inclined to do Facebook than hitting a web-site.
That leaves me out!
Do I really wanna “friend” the police-department to be informed?
Would that interest me at all?
I’m falling behind — I’m almost 70.
But the main thing is right now this here ‘pyooter is much more interesting than my TV.
(And others seem to agree with me.)

• “Plasma-babies” are what my macho brother-from-Boston calls all high-definition wide/flat-screen TVs. Other technologies beside plasma are available, but he calls them all “plasma-babies.”
• “‘Pyooter” is computer.
• My beloved wife of over 44 years died of cancer April 17th, 2012. Like me, she wasn’t interested in TV.

Reflections on my grief-share

On April 17th, 2012, my beloved wife of over 44 years died of cancer.
Her name was “Linda.”
At first I was devastated and heartbroken, stunned for over a year.
I lost a really good one, so I was crying all the time.
An old friend suggested I attend a grief-share at his church.
I was leery at first. It had already been suggested I attend other grief-shares.
Most were in faraway Rochester, and all seemed religiously-based.
One was affiliated with the hospice we used, but that was 45 minutes east. It wasn’t church-sponsored, but its facilitator was a reverend.
Plus I could never get ahold of that reverend despite leaving telephone messages.
My friend’s grief-share was only 25 minutes away, plus he would go with me to my first meeting.
Similarly bereaved watch a DVD video called “Grief Share.”
People on it share advice. All were bereaved themselves.
The video can be somewhat pertinent, but tends to be boring. It has an undercurrent of proselytizing.
“Now that we’ve solved that problem......”
“Oh you have?” I’d think to myself.
“What you’ve done is lob Bible verses at it, as if they solved the problem.”
What this presumes is you’ve decided the Bible is the final word on everything, which I cannot do.
I always remember the Bible was assembled long ago by prelates: human beings.
Some religious texts were left out, yet those included occasionally contradict. I always remember Song of Solomon, how it glorifies sex, yet other Bible teachings tell us sex is evil, because it’s carnal.
Religious zealots seem to have this penchant for finding some Bible verse that applies to your specific problem, then trumpet that as if it were the be-all and end-all.
I can’t accept that.
Anyway, the God they parade is some kind of all-loving Santa Claus, not the capricious and judgmental God I grew up with.
God was my father, who beat me for reasons unknown.
One time I repeated a bumper-sticker that had the word “damn” in it.
My father was driving, but turned around and clobbered me anyway.
I was about seven or eight.
When I asked why, I was clobbered again, accused of lying. Like I knew why my father clobbered me, even if I didn’t.
The fact my wife died is sorrowful.
I mentioned that to a girl I graduated with in high-school, a person comparable to my wife in gray-matter.
“You’ll see her again in Heaven,” I was told.
“Yes, Janet,” I thought to myself.
“Except I won’t get to Heaven.” I disrespected my father. “Hell for you, baby!” I was always told.
And my wife wouldn’t make it either. Like me, she was an unbeliever.
My grief-share (especially the video) was pounding me with religion. They claimed the only way to deal with grief was believe.
I’ve attended two grief-shares so far, all at the same church, with the same facilitators. I do so despite being out-of-it. The people there have become friends.
People in the real world don’t understand grief. The attenders are all bereaved, so understand where I’m at.
They also tell me they see improvement. And that’s despite my not becoming an arm-waving zealot. What the grief-share claims is time doesn’t heal all wounds — it takes God.
Yet they keep seeing improvement. Well over a year has passed.
I appreciate all that, enough to withstand all the proselytizing.
And proselytizing I’m very familiar with. Zealots have been after me all my life.
I’m basically a do-gooder. So they want me to become one of them. —Plus I also listen to them instead of tell them to buzz off.
“Why always me?” I ask. “Why not the flagrant sinners?”
Now I have to be careful who sees this. I e-mail links to these blogs all over the planet.
But my grief-share people won’t get it. I don’t want to hurt their feelings.

Monthly Calendar-Report for September 2013

(It finally happened!
The surfeit of -a) mowing, -b) various duties that came with my wife’s death, and -c) the nap requirement that came with my starting an antidepressant drug:
....conspired to make this Monthly-Calendar--Report almost two weeks late.)

(Photo by Fred Kern.)

—Here it comes! One of those gorgeous red keystone number-plates on the front smokebox-door that signified a Pennsy locomotive.
What I always looked forward to as a child.
Except this is in north Jersey as opposed to where I saw them in south Jersey.
The September 2013 entry of my All-Pennsy color calendar is a Pennsy K-4 Pacific (4-6-2) on the New York & Long Branch, a commuter-run from New York City.
What I saw was on Pennsylvania-Reading Seashore Lines (PRSL; “REDD-ing,” not “REED-ing”), trains to-and-from south Jersey seashore points.
PRSL also used Reading steam-locomotives (see last month’s Calendar-report). To me they weren’t as pretty as Pennsy engines. They lacked the excellent proportions of a Pennsy engine, and also that gorgeous red keystone number-plate.
New York & Long Branch was actually Central of New Jersey. But it became a Pennsy enclave when Pennsy got trackage-rights. Pennsy had threatened to build a competing railroad. They could, and if they had it would have put New York & Long Branch out of business.

Where it all began. (Photo by Robert L. Long©.)

It was views like this that started my railfanning. A train was approaching Haddonfield station from the east. I could hear it coming, and see the smoke.
Haddonfield is the revolutionary town south of my home in south Jersey, where my father and I watched trains. I’d glance toward the horizon for that red keystone.

(This is actually a full-size plastic casting.)

That keystone number-plate is probably industrial-designer Raymond Loewy. Prior to the keystone, Pennsy used circular red number-plates on its passenger engines. Loewy came to Pennsy styling their engines to look as good as they were.
I was scared-to-death of thunderstorms, but I could stand right next to a panting steam-locomotive. —My greatest thrill was watching them start; they usually slipped (spun their driving-wheels).
The PRSL passenger-train would stop at Haddonfield station.
There was also a pretty good chance the steam-locomotive would stop for water from the water-tower across the tracks from where we watched. (That water-tower is not visible in my “Where it all began” picture, but its standpipe is.)
I’ve been a railfan over 60 years, and to my mind that red keystone is what started it.



A Norfolk Southern mixed freight passes a stopped ballast-train along the New River near Narrows, VA. (Photo by William Oertley.)

—I was going to do my own calendar-picture as number-two until I saw this one. This is the best picture in my 2013 Norfolk Southern Employees’ Photography-Contest calendar.
It’s also the first time photographer Oertley made the calendar.
The Fall-foliage is a bit early for September — to me that’s October.
We have a double, two trains; although reportedly the ballast-train (at left) is stopped.
We’re next to the New River, and boaters were kind enough to be present.
For once we don’t have a frontal-view of a locomotive. What we have is the beautiful world Norfolk Southern travels.
In fact, were it not that the ballast-train is mentioned, I would not have noticed it.
It would have been dramatic even with a single train.
My guess is the photographer also shot the standing ballast-train, but then this mixed appeared.
Doubles are always lucky shots; I’ve snagged a few myself.
But even with a single train this photograph would have been extraordinarily successful.
The photographer has shot train-pictures a long time; he probably entered the photography-contest before.
But then he noticed this spot driving along Route 460 next to New River.
The railroad-tracks were clearly visible on the other side, and he also noticed a boat-launch.
He thought it would make a nice photograph, so he went back early one Saturday morning, and here is his result.
The best photograph is the 2013 Norfolk Southern Employees’ Photography-Contest calendar.
No fancy tricks, just a great shot.



Deuce roadster.

—The September 2013 entry of my Oxman Hotrod Calendar is a very well turned out 1932 Ford roadster.
It’s very attractive to me because it’s stock-appearing. The full-fenders and running-boards were left on.
I actually prefer the Three-Window Coupe as a hotrod, but this roadster probably makes more sense.
With its top down, you could sit normally, and actually drive it — enjoy it.
With a coupe you might be sitting on the floor.
Years ago a guy showed me the five-window Milner coupe he had built (John Milner’s car in the movie “American Graffiti”).

The Milner coupe from “American Graffiti,” a ’32 Ford Five-Window coupe.

He had to scrunch inside it, and sit on the floor.
Then too this particular car was not lowered on its frame. Its floor is probably in the stock location.
You’d be sitting on a normal seat-cushion.
This car has styling touches that look fine. That front bumper is off a ’49 Plymouth. A lot of hotrods did that.
And those wheels and tires are not stock. That stuff is much better than it was in 1932.
The windshield is slightly chopped, and the removable top is inspired by Auburn. That is, it’s not stock Ford.
But it looks fine, although you’d probably have to remove the top to avoid scrunching.
A while ago a saw a bus-driver riding in an open ’32 Ford hotrod in 30-degree weather. He was shivering, but grinning ear-to-ear. (That bus-driver has since died.)
This car has a 400-horse SmallBlock Chevy with four-speed manual floorshift, stuff I would enjoy.
Although to my mind a SmallBlock Chevy shouldn’t be souped up much. Do that, and it becomes temperamental.
I wanna drive the car.



A helper-set pushes Train 10G. (Photo by BobbaLew with Phil Faudi.)

—The September 2013 entry of my own calendar is deceptive.
It looks like the train is approaching, but actually it’s going the other way.
The locomotives are pushing the back end of Train 10G, a mixed freight, up The Hill.
We are just north of South Fork, PA. At this point the grade uphill is .63 percent, which is .63 feet up for every 100 feet forward.
That’s not too steep, but steep enough to require helpers if the train is heavy.
That is, there’s enough power pulling the train for flat running, but not enough to climb a hill.
And the grade gets steeper toward the top, 1.44 percent.
We are climbing Allegheny summit, the main impediment to railroading across PA.
Those helpers will stay on all the way down to Altoona. Down the other side of The Hill averages 1.75 percent, enough to cause a train to run away — and it has happened.
The helpers will engage dynamic-brakes to help hold back the train.
With dynamic-braking the locomotive’s traction-motors become generators, current dissipated with giant toaster-grids atop the locomotive. (General-Electric is trying hybrid locomotive technology using the current to charge batteries.)
The traction-motors resist turning; additional braking effort is generated.
The locomotives are SD40-Es, a Norfolk Southern rebuilding of EMD SD-50s to replace the aging SD40-2s that long did helper-service on The Hill.
SD-50s generated 3,500 horsepower, although at that rating its prime-mover (diesel engine) was overstressed.
The SD40-Es were downgraded to 3,000 horsepower.
The SD40-Es, and SD40-2s before them, were coupled in pairs, serving as dedicated helpers.
They get added in Altoona (if needed) for trains west, as helpers have been since the railroad opened. They’re added eastbound anywhere along the railroad clear to Pittsburgh — actually Conway Yard northwest of Pittsburgh.
Sometimes they’re added at Johnstown, and sometimes at Cresson (“KRESS-in”), just before the steep part. Cresson is where they get serviced.
A really heavy train, like a unit coal-train, might get three helper-sets, one set in front, and two sets pushing.
Out of Altoona the old Pennsy, now Norfolk Southern, is a mountain railroad. Helpers get added to move the trains.



A really big airplane. (Photo by Philip Makanna©.)

—This Douglas AD-4 Skyraider is a BIG airplane.
It’s the September 2013 entry of my Ghosts WWII warbirds calendar.
I compared measurements. The wingspan of an F4U Corsair is 41 feet. That of a P-51 Mustang is 37 feet and a half-inch. The Skyraider is 50 feet nine inches.
A Corsair is 33 feet four inches long, the Mustang 32 feet 9&1/2 inches. The Skyraider is 38 feet 10 inches long.
The Skyraider could fly off an aircraft-carrier, and catapults weren’t in use then.
But at 10,500 pounds the Skyraider is a lot of airplane. The Corsair weighed 8,900 pounds, the Mustang 7,125 pounds.
The Skyraider isn’t a hotrod fighter-plane.
In fact, I’m not sure it’s even a WWII warbird.
I’ll let my WWII warbirds site weigh in:
“The prototype of the Skyraider was first flown on March 18th, 1945.
Designed as a robust, multi-role attack aircraft for the U.S. Navy, the carrier-based Skyraider could carry a wide variety of weapons on its numerous wing hard points.
The Skyraider first saw combat in the Korean War, where its long loiter time and heavy load-hauling capability gave it a distinct utility advantage over jet aircraft of the time.”
There was even a version of the Skyraider (the AD-5) that could carry 12 passengers in its fuselage.
The Skyraider is more a workhorse, a fighter-bomber.
A Skyraider carrying heavy torpedoes could get sent out to attack enemy ships. A Skyraider would drop its torpedo and fly away. With any luck the torpedo would sink the ship.
You’d have to do this without engaging enemy fighter-planes. The heavy Skyraider would lack the maneuverability and evasiveness of a fighter-plane.
The Skyraider was not in my consciousness, not the same as the Corsair, the Grumman ‘Cats, or even the Douglas Dauntless.

A Douglas Dauntless.

But the ‘Cats or the Corsair weren’t fighter-bombers. They couldn’t dive-bomb or torpedo ships; that is, carry torpedoes. They could strafe a ship-deck with their machine-guns, but rarely sink a ship.
The Dauntless was a fighter-bomber, but it wasn’t the hotrod the ‘Cats and Corsair were, even though it was about the same size and weight. —Plus it was an old design.
The Skyraider more-or-less updated the Dauntless, but giving it greater bomb-carrying capacity made it a humongous airplane.
Nevertheless if you crewed an enemy ship you hoped you never saw a Skyraider dropping its torpedo at you.
About the only offset was for enemy fighter-planes to blast the Skyraider out of the sky.



Overkill! (Photo by Peter Harholdt©.)

—The September 2013 entry in my Motorbooks Musclecar calendar is a 1971 Hemi® ‘Cuda (“HEM-eee;” not “HE-me”), a Plymouth Barracuda pony-car with a gigantic 426 cubic-inch Hemi engine.
It was called “the Hemi®” because it had hemispherical combustion-chambers, unlike a common V8 of that time which had all its valves in a row.
In a Hemi the valves are turned 90 degrees, and splay across the cylinder-head. That way the intake-valves aim at the intake manifold, and the exhaust-valves aim at the exhaust header.
In a common V8 with the valves all parallel in a row, the intake-valves might tilt toward the intake manifold, but the exhaust-valves tilt the same way, away from the exhaust-header.
Exhaust has to take a contorted curved path through the cylinder-head toward the exhaust-header. That contorted path restricts breathing. A Hemi breathes extraordinarily well, especially at high engine speeds.
The Hemi can generate immense power.
Chrysler’s Hemi is one of the most significant engines ever!
It’s heavy, but could be so powerful it came into use by hot-rodders, especially in drag-racing.
I remember Bill “Grumpy” Jenkins drag-racing a 409 Chevy during the middle ‘60s. He always won until the Hemi appeared. He got one himself. Nothing could beat a well-tuned Hemi.
The Hemi was so powerful it got ruled out of NASCAR. Ford had to build a hemi of its own to compete, the single overhead-cam “Cammer.” It too had hemispherical combustion chambers, plus a single overhead camshaft per head to actuate the valves.

“Cammer” without rocker-covers, etc.

With rocker-covers; but a 429.

The cost of developing a competitive NASCAR racer was escalating out of sight.
About the only way to compete with Chrysler’s Hemi was a comparable motor. Chevrolet’s Big-Block and Ford’s Cammer were Hemi competitors.
And essentially factory entries.
The little guy had been left behind. NASCAR had become factory competition.
Some of those little guys became factory drivers; people like Richard Petty and David Pearson.
But such engines had little relevance to everyday driving. They use too much gas, and were temperamental.
The Hemi had three iterations.
The earliest Hemi debuted for the 1951 model-year, an attempt by Chrysler to engineer something superior to the V8 engines sweeping car-dom post-war.
The first Hemi debuted at 331 cubic-inches, and lasted until 1958 at 392 cubic-inches.
The Hemi was costly to build, so Chrysler developed a V8 with parallel valves all in a row, like a common V8.
The Hemi had two rocker-shafts per cylinder-head, where a common V8 might have only one — or none; Chevrolet’s SmallBlock with its ball-stud mounted rockers.
Two rocker-shafts were needed for both sets of rockers, the intake-rockers and exhaust-rockers.
The intake-rockers were short, and worked backwards. The exhaust-rockers were long.
Two rocker lengths was an added cost.
A common V8 could get by with rockers identical for both intake and exhaust.
The first Hemi was retired the 1959 model-year, replaced by Chrysler’s new V8, at large displacements to make it competitive.
But racers wanted Chrysler to bring the Hemi back, or more precisely, Hemi heads for the new Chrysler V8.
That’s what was done for the 1964 model-year through 1971. That engine was iteration number-two.
That was the Hemi NASCAR ruled against. Drag-racers were using both that and the earlier Hemi.

An early Hemi in a 1957 Chrysler 300C.

The elephant-motor in a 1971 Barracuda.

The recent Hemi.

The Don Garlitz dragster; a second-generation Hemi (I think). (Photo by Bobbalew.)

The Connie Kalitta dragster; a first generation Hemi. —That lump on top (the Garlitz dragster has it too) is a supercharger from a GMC 6-71 diesel-engine. It forces more air into the engine. (Photo by Bobbalew.)

To me the recent Hemi is Chrysler cashing in the reputation of the two earlier Hemis.
The new Hemi is still a Hemi, and quite powerful, but smaller than the 426 cubic-inch elephant-motor.
The recent Hemi addresses one of the main things wrong with the earlier Hemis: weight. Earlier Hemis, with their massive cast-iron cylinder-heads, were extraordinarily heavy. Their offset was they could generate immense power, particularly at high engine-speeds.
The recent Hemis have aluminum cylinder-heads which weigh much less though still of Hemi design.
The hemispherical combustion-chamber has become the norm for high-performance engines.
But it’s been flattened quite a bit.
In order to have high-compression, a Hemi’s pistons had to be domed to fill the combustion-chamber.
Domed pistons don’t transfer heat very well; in fact, they retain it. In order to get away from domed pistons you have to flatten the combustion-chamber.
High-performance engines have also gone to four valves per cylinder. All Hemis, even the recent ones, are still two valves per cylinder (intake and exhaust). Four valves flow more, but are costly.
With four valves per cylinder the valves are usually activated by overhead camshafts. The Hemis still use a camshaft down in the engine-block activating pushrods to the valve rockers.
Only Ford’s Cammer had an overhead camshaft, but it was single; most overhead camshafts are double — DOHC; one for each side, intake and exhaust — two camshafts per cylinder-head. And Ford’s Cammer used valve-rockers. DOHC is more precise.
The massively heavy Hemi engine in a Barracuda pony-car, makes no sense at all. About all it’s good for is straight-line acceleration. Toss it into a curve, and it will plow into the weeds.

Yates’ Challenger. (Photo by Bobbalew.)

Brock Yates, a retired editor at Car and Driver magazine, had NASCAR entrant Cotton Owens build him a Dodge Challenger pony-car years ago.
The Challenger is Dodge’s version of the Barracuda pony-car.
But it has only the 340 cubic-inch Chrysler Small-Block, souped up of course.
That Small-Block makes more sense in a pony-car than the heavy Hemi.
With a Hemi-Challenger Yates would have had a handful. A 340 Challenger would not be as fast, but would be more manageable.



Pennsy’s version of the prettiest railroad locomotive ever. (Photo by Bill Edson©.)

The September 2013 entry of my Audio-Visual Designs black-and-white All-Pennsy Calendar is the most beautiful railroad locomotive ever assembled, the long-legged Alco PA passenger-diesel.
It’s not the most gorgeous version: Santa Fe’s warbonnet-painted PA.


A Santa Fe warbonnet PA. (Photo by Joe McMillan.)

What we have here is two Pennsy PAs at the station in Logansport, Indiana with Train 207, the Union, a combination of Train 307 from Indianapolis and Louisville, with 107-207 from Columbus and Cincinnati.
The Alco PAs will take the train all the way to Chicago.
“Alco” is American Locomotive Company of Schenectady, NY.
For years, American Locomotive Company was a primary manufacturer of railroad steam locomotives. —It was originally a merger of many steam locomotive manufacturers.
With the changeover by railroads to diesel-locomotives, American Locomotive Company brought out a line of diesel-electric railroad locomotives much like the railroads were switching to, and changed its name to “Alco.”
Alco tanked a while ago; they never competed as well as GM’s ElectroMotive Division (EMD).

An Alco FA unit.

Alco built two diesel locomotives with these lines, the shorter and stubby FA (a freighter), and this long and graceful PA.
They were rushed. They were powered by Alco’s new 244 engine, and development and testing were rushed.
The two locomotives pictured are A-units; what the letter “A” stands for. The cabless B-unit was called the “PB.”

Baldwin passenger sharks wait at South Amboy, north Jersey, for a GG1 powered commuter-train from New York City. (Photo by Bob Crone©.)

There’s dispute among railfans about which locomotive was prettier, the PA or Baldwin’s passenger Shark.
As I understand it, the shark’s styling was by industrial-designer Raymond Loewy, an attempt by Baldwin Locomotive Company to make its diesel offerings more salable.
Loewy did a good job making Baldwin’s diesels look as good as his gorgeous shark-nose T1 (4-4-4-4 duplex) steam-engine for the Pennsylvania Railroad.
To my mind, the PA wins hands down. The Shark is dramatic, but not as graceful as the PA. Furthermore the Shark’s windshield is weak. —Too much arch.
If I were panning either, I’d prefer the PA, as illustrated.
Sadly, the PA wasn’t very successful — its poorly-developed 244 engine.
It was cranky and difficult, not reliable.
Where EMD used two 1,000 horsepower V12s per unit to get 2,000 horsepower, Alco used only one V16, a turbocharged 244.
Turbochargers at that time were flaky, not as well-developed as now. After all, hot exhaust gases power a turbine that spins a supercharger — that turbo spins at very high RPM.
The turbo might blow, or not spool up as fast as it should, allowing to much fuel into the engine (not enough air), disgorging lots of black smoke. (I have video of a locomotive with a blown turbocharger; flames erupt above the exhaust.)
Then too if a train cripples out on the railroad, it plugs the railroad. You can’t just go around it; it has to be rescued.
“Send out an EMD switcher. If it had been EMD on-the-point it might not have crippled.”
Pennsy had to buy everything, reliable and unreliable. They dieselized late, and there was no way EMD could fill their huge demand.
The PAs were taken off premier passenger-service, replaced by more reliable EMD units.
The PAs emigrated to the final stomping-ground of Pennsy passenger service: commuter-trains to New York City on New York & Long Branch in north Jersey.
Another stomping-ground was PRSL, but I never saw any PAs.
The Alco PAs may have been the most beautiful railroad locomotive, but I only know of one having been saved, an ex-Santa Fe warbonnet last used on Delaware & Hudson and Ferrocarril de Mexico.