Another train-chase

DAY ONE; (the trip down, Wednesday, October 23rd, 2013):

The Hillary Clinton/Chuck Schumer Memorial Freeway is finally open, and my wife didn’t live to see it.
My wife died in April of 2012.
It’s probably called something else, but I’d call it that because you’d think those two blowhards could have made the guvamint do it.
Clinton was once NY senator, and Schumer still is. I don’t recall who replaced Clinton, but it may be Kirsten Gillibrand — not a heavy like Clinton.
The Hillary Clinton/Chuck Schumer Memorial Freeway replaces the final segment of the old Route-15 two-lane.
Funny, Pennsylvania replaced every segment of the old Route-15 two-lane, but as you drove north it narrowed from limited-access highway onto the old Route-15 two-lane at the NY state line.
I’ve driven that route hundreds of times.
Pennsylvania didn’t do it all-at-once; they did it piecemeal.
The infamous Blossburg hill — actually three lanes to add a lane for climbing trucks — was bypassed about 5-10 years ago. Other two-lane segments through difficult business districts were also bypassed. Segments were built as limited-access two-lane at first, then the other lanes added.
Another segment near Steam Valley was reconfigured to stop using the old road as southbound lanes.
There’s a segment south of Williamsport that isn’t limited-access, but it’s four-lane, and can be safely driven at 55-60 mph.
Go back far enough and into Altoona was a two-lane highway. What used to be a seven-hour trip now takes five hours.
That two-lane was partially bypassed by the Bud Shuster highway (Interstate-99).
Bud Shuster was a congressman from the area.
Now the Bud Shuster highway is built almost to Interstate-80, which is part of my route.
So a trip to Altoona was now a slam-dunk, except for that two-lane in NY.
Actually, I use two-lanes to get across NY. There is an expressway (Interstate-390), but it doglegs.
It takes as long as my back-roads route.


DAY TWO; (the train-chase, Thursday, October 24th, 2013):

This was my first train-chase with Phil Faudi in about a year. (“FOW-dee;” as in “wow.”)
He calls ‘em “Tours.”
His wife has Multiple-Sclerosis, and he had to stop.
At first he was doing it as a business, but he gave that up when it became dicey, plus he had bought a new car which he didn’t wanna damage, and he had been doing the driving.
He cut back to just leading me around, plus a few others, but he had to give that up too when his wife got worse.
Faudi lives in Altoona with his wife Rita. He’s a railfan extraordinaire.
My first “tour” was five years ago, and it blew my mind.
It was railfan overload!
We saw 20 trains.
Phil brings along his scanner tuned to only the Norfolk Southern radio-frequency, 160.8 megahertz.
With it he can tell the whereabouts of every train.
The line is quite busy, so he doesn’t have to wait long. It’s the old Pennsylvania Railroad mainline across PA, a conduit of heavy freight-traffic to-and-from the east-coast megalopolis.
The line is now owned and operated by Norfolk Southern Railroad.
“Pennsy” (the Pennsylvania Railroad) no longer exists.
Phil is familiar enough with the area to know if we have time to beat a train to a prime photo-location.
He also knows the schedule, so knows what trains to look for when.
The train-engineers have to call out the signal-aspects on the radio as they pass each signal, and often you can catch what track they are on, and what direction they are.
When the train-engineers call out the signal-aspects they identify their train — although that may be clipped.
What track they are on indicates direction. Track One and/or Two are east, Three or Four are west, and Two/Three can be either way. (That’s Three and Four at a location with four tracks.)
If the train-number is clipped, Faudi’s knowledge of the schedule comes to play — he may have heard enough to know what train it is.
If he hears static, he knows a train with a poor radio is moving.
There also are defect-detectors that transmit on the radio.
The defect-detectors sense hot wheel-bearings, dragging equipment, etc. One or the other or all. They also tell what track they are on.
I can monitor the radio at home via the Internet. There also is a webcam in Cresson (“KRESS-in”) aimed at the tracks.
If the detector at milepost 253.1 reports Track One, I know I’ll soon see that train. Track Three is a train that’s already passed.
I also often hear the train-engineers calling out the signals at “UN,” milepost 249.4, and “MO.” The letters are old tower telegraph call-letters.
When I hear that, I’ll soon see that train.
If the engineers call out signals eastbound on Track One west of Cresson, I’ll soon see that train.
What a pleasure this is! I used to not be able to make sense of signal transmissions, but now I can. Radio transmissions were “gibberish,” but now aren’t.
We began at Brickyard Crossing the only grade-crossing on the mainline in the Altoona area.
It’s actually Porta Road, but there once was a brickyard nearby — now it’s gone.


Eastbound at Brickyard. (Photo by BobbaLew with Phil Faudi.)

We were fighting partly-cloudy light. Sun out, then clouds. At that time of day — the morning — a train is backlit if I’m shooting from up on the embankment on the north side of the tracks.
That embankment is usually my best shot, although there is another location at trackside.


Here comes a westbound. (Photo by BobbaLew with Phil Faudi.)

We then drove up to Plummers Crossing east of Tyrone (“tie-RONE”), another grade-crossing. The mainline turns east at Tyrone.
Nothing!
We left and headed back to Altoona, the 17th St. overpass next to Alto Tower, now closed.


Train 25Z passes through Altoona towards The Hill. (Photo by BobbaLew with Phil Faudi.)

Train 25Z, a stacker, was headed west toward The Hill.
We then decided to go up The Hill using Sugar Run Road. It uses the same valley the railroad uses, paralleling it. Although the road is down in the valley, and the railroad is up on the hillside.
There it was beside us, 25Z climbing The Hill.
“I think we can beat it to Lilly,” Phil said.
Lilly (a town) is questionable for westbounds.
“So how about Carneys Crossing?” I said, another grade-crossing. “I’ve never shot anything there.”
Carneys is just before Lilly.
Hammer-down for the old stroke-survivor. Can we beat it to Carneys?


25Z westbound at Carneys Crossing. (Photo by BobbaLew with Phil Faudi.)

We did; the first time I ever got to a shot ahead of what we were chasing.
Phil could do it when he was driving, but now it’s me driving, so I’m the pokey little puppy.
We then headed railroad-east north of Altoona to McFarlands Curve in Tipton, and finally Bellwood.
There are three tracks at McFarlands; Two and One and a controlled-siding, meaning it’s signaled. (Bellwood is also three tracks.)
Westbounds negotiate an S-curve toward our location. Eastbounds are framed by an old Pennsy signal-bridge with six target-signals, three per side, one for each track.
I’ve never been able to get anything westbound with strong telephoto over that S-curve, but this time I got two westbounds.


21J negotiates the S-curve; it’s on the controlled-siding. (Photo by BobbaLew with Phil Faudi.)

I also got a crude-oil extra eastbound under the signal-bridge.


64R; crude on the move. (Photo by BobbaLew with Phil Faudi.)

From there we went back into Tipton to get lunch.
We shot a picture at the crossing there, then headed to Bellwood.
Bellwood has a new footbridge over the tracks, but it has cyclone-fencing with very small holes. You can’t photograph through it.
But you can photograph from the fence-ends.
Westbound approaching that footbridge is a small cut through the town. It makes a decent shot.
Eastbound is over a long tangent (straight track), but it works if you exclude the tangent and shoot just the locomotive.


Eastbound 10G at Bellwood. (Photo by BobbaLew with Phil Faudi.)

Which is what you have to do from the fence-end.
From there we headed toward the location my brother-and-I found on The Hill west of Brickyard Crossing.


23Z up The Hill. (Photo by BobbaLew with Phil Faudi.)

That location is not far from “Ledges,” a rock outcropping that overlooks the tracks.
Getting up to “Ledges” is challenging — it’s hiking a jeep-track. But it’s a nice photograph.


14G, down on One with helpers, passes 21M, up on Three. (Photo by BobbaLew with Phil Faudi.)

I got a double up there, one down on One passing a van-train up on Three.
But by then it was late-afternoon and we were losing our light.
We gave up.
Back down to Altoona to get Phil’s car, then the infamous spaghetti-joint, Lena’s Café, with Phil’s wife.
Rita is having a hard time getting around, but seems no worse than before.
I guess she’s not tied to a urine-bag, which she was a few months ago.
Stuff like that I understand.
I cared for my wife, and lost a really good one.


DAY THREE; back to reality, (Friday, October 25th, 2013).

At least I managed to not start crying like last time as I got on the Route 22 Expressway.
A pleasant diversion, but I return home to a big empty house — no longer a wife.
This trip felt like a dividing point: like what I returned to was less real than before.
But I lived with that lady 44 years.
And now she’s gone.
Of course my world is no longer what it was.
And so the infamous “Green Shingles Restaurant” is doomed.
“Green-Shingles” has been there as I’ve travelled that road, at least 50 years.
It became a travel-mark; you passed “Green Shingles” passing into PA at the state line.
Traveling north, you passed “Green Shingles” after you entered NY.
It’s on the old Route 15 two-lane.
There it was, down in the valley, as I arced off the mountain; bypassed, and looking rather decrepit.
It’s fallen into disrepair ever since they started the Hillary Clinton/Chuck Schumer Memorial Freeway.
Its roof is green shingles, and needs to be replaced.
I doubt it can survive if the old Route 15 two-lane is bypassed.
I (we) never patronized it; it seemed like a roadhouse.
I wouldn’t be surprised next time it’s gone or burned out.

• I had a stroke October 26, 1993, from which I pretty much recovered.

“Lumosity” or “Luminosity?”

It’s apparently “Lumosity,” a service offering computer-games to supposedly improve brain-function.
I Googled “Luminosity” and it directed to the measure of brightness.
I’ve heard both pronunciations.
Garrison Keillor says “Lumosity” — which is correct —  not “Luminosity.” (“Lumosity” is one of the legitimate sponsors of his radio-program, “Prairie Home Companion,” Another advertiser is Ford.)
As opposed to made-up sponsors, like “American Duct-Tape Council,” or “Ketchup Advisory Board.”
Or “Association of Associations,” or “Professional Organization of English-Majors” (P.O.E.M.).
Garrison may be right, but we all know he’s one a’ them despicable fancy-dan liberals. Such people are always WRONG.
Unless you’re a bellicose, tub-thumping Conservative, for whom spelling errors don’t matter.
It’s the old Rush Limbaugh waazoo. Factuality and truth don’t matter as much as whether it sticks.
The supermarket tabloids tried mightily to make it look like Laura was gonna leave Dubya. But it never stuck.
I get occasional video-ads for “Lumosity.”
In one a chipper cutie bubbles about how it keeps her brain in top shape.
As if she needed it. She looks about 30. —She pronounces it “Luminosity,”or so it seems.
In another ad an actor posing as a retiree pronounces it “Lumosity.” —Or maybe “Luminosity.” Maybe the girl pronounced it “Lumosity;” it’s hard to tell.
This retiree wannabee looks about 40. His hair isn’t even gray yet.
Ever notice how the silver-haired actors hired by AARP, etc. always have a full head of hair?
Never are these actors fat balding geezers.
Makes you wonder if John Kerry wears a toupee?
That would-be retiree pronounces it “Lumosity.”
I get both pronunciations in Lumosity’s advertising.
So maybe Lumosity is run by Conservatives, in which case erroneous pronunciation doesn’t matter.
Our language is becoming stupendously imprecise. In the text world “to” becomes “2.”

Monthly Calendar-Report for October 2013

(Late again, but at least not two weeks.
At the rate things are going, the only thing that may get done in October is the November Monthly Calendar-Report.
Blogs are written, but I don’t have time to key them in.
October 26th is also the 20th anniversary of my stroke, and a train-chase is planned October 24th.)


Mustang! (Photo by Philip Makanna©.)

—Can any WWII warbirds calendar not have a Mustang?
The October 2013 entry of my Ghosts WWII warbirds calendar is a North-American P-51 Mustang.
It’s the most dramatic picture in the warbirds calendar — probably the most dramatic Mustang picture Makanna ever shot.
I always consider the Mustang my number-two most beautiful airplane ever.

TWA Connie. (Photo by Brian Johnstone©.)

A P-38. (Photo by Philip Makanna©.)

But to me the most beautiful airplane ever is the Lockheed Constellation in the TWA paint-scheme.
And the Lockheed P-38 comes close.
It’s just that the P-38 didn’t have the fabulous Packard-Merlin V12. The P-38 used Allison V12s.
The earliest Mustangs were also the Allison V12. But then the Rolls-Royce Merlin was tried.
The Rolls-Royce Merlin was the engine used in the phenomenal British Supermarine Spitfire.
The Merlin made the Mustang a great fighter-plane, a hotrod.
Then Packard (cars) worked its engineering magic and got even more performance out of it than did Rolls-Royce.
The Mustang was better than the Spitfire. At this point I’ll let my WWII warbirds site weigh in, since the Mustang is per British request:
“One of the most effective, famous and beautiful fighter aircraft of WWII, the P-51 was designed to fulfill a British requirement dated April, 1940.
Because of the rapidly-mounting clouds of war in Europe, the UK asked North American Aircraft to design and build a new fighter in only 120 days.
After the RAF found the aircraft’s performance lacking, they tested a new engine, the V12 Rolls-Royce Merlin. This gave much-improved performance, and led to the USAAF fitting two airframes with 1,430-horsepower Packard-built Merlin V-1650 engines. Practically overnight, the aircraft’s potential began to grow.”
There also was the matter of range. Again:
“The Merlin-powered Mustangs were exactly what the Allied bombers in Europe desperately needed, and the Mustangs became famous for their long range and potent high-altitude escort capability.”
Bombers from Britain had to go unaccompanied over Germany. Allied fighter-planes didn’t have the range. Those Allied bombers were sitting ducks for Hitler’s Messerschmitts.
The Mustang ended that. It had the range. Mustangs could accompany Allied bombers, and counter the Messerschmitts.
What we have here is a very dramatic picture of a P-51 Mustang, what I feel is the second-most beautiful airplane ever made.
I had a model of a P-38, but not a P-51.
And Packard got the Merlin up to 1,695-horsepower.



Train 21M climbs The Hill on Track Two at the Ledges. (Photo by BobbaLew with Phil Faudi.)

—The October 2013 entry of my own calendar is a mistake I’ll never make again: a vertical.
It’s Train 21M, a westbound stacker, climbing The Hill past “the Ledges.”
“The Ledges” is a rock outcropping beside the grade to Horseshoe Curve.
The outcropping was probably cut back to clear the tracks. You can stand atop it, where it’s flat, and you’re above the tracks if you do.
Your picture is vertical, which works fine in this blog, but is only about 37 percent of the width of a calendar-page.
If your picture is horizontal it takes up the entire width of the page.
A vertical can’t fit, and only 37 percent of the page-width is tiny.
My brother-in-Boston protested mightily: “How come that picture is so small?”
I probably coulda cropped that picture to make it horizontal, but doing so woulda chopped out the sky and the train (not the locomotives). It’s a vertical view.

Crew-change at Rose (in Altoona). (Photo by BobbaLew with Phil Faudi.)

I’ve done verticals in earlier calendars, but they were Kodak Gallery. Kodak Gallery is defunct; it was sold to Shutterfly with the Kodak bankruptcy.
This most recent calendar is Shutterfly, and verticals don’t work.
I don’t know if I could make horizontal work at this location. It’s almost like I’d need a double; a second train descending on Track One.
21M is uphill on Track Two. I’d need uphill on Two or Three (left of Two).
Downhill on Two might also work, passing an uphill on Three.
My picture is nice, but it doesn’t work in a Shutterfly calendar. No verticals.



Talledega! (Photo by Peter Harholdt©.)

—The October 2013 entry in my Motorbooks Musclecar calendar is a 1969 Ford Torino Talledega.
The Torino Talledega was Ford’s response to needing aerodynamics appropriate to high-speed racetracks like Talledega Super-Speedway in Alabama.

Cale Yarborough’s Cyclone-Spoiler for NASCAR.

A Torino GT.

A Mercury Cyclone. (Not the Spoiler model.)

A Dodge Daytona — a winged-warrior.

Mercury had a version: the Cyclone Spoiler.
The standard Torino with its fastback body was fast, but its front-end was a scoop. It compromised high-speed handling and slowed the car.
Ford was racing the winged-warriors, Dodge’s Daytona and Plymouth’s SuperBird, that had special fiberglass front-ends that made for enhanced air-penetration.
Ford responded in kind. It made a bluff front-end found on the pictured car.
It wasn’t Chrysler’s front-end, but it worked well.
Ford had to make 500 cars with that front-end to say it was a stock option, the Torino Talledega.
Whether they did or not is debatable, but if anything I’d say it looks better than the stock Torino.
It was a hoary time, but NASCAR competition was getting out-of-hand. It had become a factory playground.
Buddy Baker did a 200 mph lap at Talledega in a Hemi-powered Dodge Daytona, and Ford developed a Hemi of its own, the “Cammer,” with its single-overhead-camshafts per cylinder-head.
You don’t cart groceries with exotic stuff like this. It was overkill, and would only appeal to racers, not Granny.
It also seems a bit ridiculous to make the equivalent of a taxicab go 200+ mph. For that we have purpose-built racecars.
Yet the Torino Talledega is stylistically what the Torino should have looked like.



A Norfolk Southern stacker passes a farm near Shippensburg, PA. (Photo by Russell Gaus.)

—If it’s near Shippensburg, it’s on Norfolk Southern’s Crescent Corridor, improvement of existing rudimentary railroads to improve rail-transit between the northeast and the south.
The October, 2013 entry in my Norfolk Southern Employees’ Photography-Contest calendar is a Norfolk Southern stacker — it appears to be northbound — on the line near Shippensburg, PA.
Perhaps the key link in the Crescent Corridor is the railroads between Harrisburg and Hagerstown, MD.
Pennsy had one, as did Reading (“REDD-ing;” not “REED-ing”) and Western Maryland, joined at Shippensburg. I don’t know which railroad is being used.
The railroads parallel Interstate-81, heavy with truck-traffic.
The idea is to shift freight off the interstate to the railroads, freight-containers that can be trailered, or double-stacked in trains.
The Crescent Corridor project is partially government-funded.
As a railroad, it’s challenging. It’s into and across the Appalachians.
The scene looks familiar, like a portion of what I see traveling to Altoona, PA.
That looks like Bald Eagle ridge in the background, a ridge that parallels the old Pennsy Bald Eagle branch, Tyrone to Williamsport.
The Bald Eagle branch is not Norfolk Southern; it’s Nittany & Bald Eagle Railroad, a shortline.
Although Norfolk Southern has trackage-rights.
But Nittany & Bald Eagle doesn’t see NS stackers. What it sees is NS unit coal-trains, moving coal to power-plants near Williamsport.
So it’s not the old Pennsy Bald Eagle branch, though it looks like it.
Snow remains on the ground after a rare October snowfall. I wonder if the cows noticed; they don’t look frantic.
And I wonder if that’s Interstate-81 in the distance.



Publisher’s license. (Photo by Bud Rothaar©.)

The October 2013 entry of my Audio-Visual Designs black-and-white All-Pennsy Calendar shows photographer Don Wood photographing a Pennsy Texan (2-10-4) rumbling coal on the Columbus-Sandusky line in Ohio.
The picture is not that dramatic. It’s there because Wood is in the picture.
It’s calendar-publisher Joe Suo wanting to use a picture with Wood in it.
Don Wood’s photographs were the basis of the first Audio-Visual Designs black-and-white All-Pennsy Calendars back in the ‘60s.
Wood had gotten some fabulous photographs of Pennsy locomotives, particularly steam. Carl Stern, now deceased, wanted to publish those photographs, so set about making an All-Pennsy Calendar.
That calendar has published ever since, although there were a few years it didn’t publish.
The calendar has also moved beyond Wood. There were certainly other photographers who did as well as Wood.
Wood is also gone.
What we miss here is Wood’s result, his photograph of that Pennsy Texan.
I don’t think it’s ever been published, unless it was earlier. My first Audio-Visual Designs All-Pennsy Calendar is 1968.
At least two calendars published before that, maybe four.
If anything, I think Rothaar got the better shot. Wood is holding his camera at standing height. Rothaar is down low, which gives the locomotive drama.
Apparently photographer Rothaar accompanied Wood on train-chases. —Yet Wood generally did better. One wonders what Wood got on this shot.
Pennsy’s Texan is its war-baby, what Pennsy had to purchase to deal with its flood of war-traffic.
Pennsy invested so much in electrification, its non-electric locomotives (mainly steam-engines) were old and worn out.
Pennsy’s Texan is not a Pennsy design. It doesn’t have the square-hipped Belpaire firebox (“bell-PEAR”).
It’s actually a Lima SuperPower design (“LYE-muh,” not “LEE-muh;” as in lima-bean), a locomotive built by Alco purchased by Chesapeake & Ohio Railroad. War restrictions wouldn’t allow Pennsy to develop its own locomotive to replace its aging fleet.
Pennsy had to try two designs already produced, one of which was the C&O Texan.
Pennsy built the Texans, but they were Lima SuperPower. Those Texans exposed Pennsy to SuperPower principles. Pennsy was conservative, and would have probably avoided SuperPower principles, which included “gadgets” Pennsy eschewed, like feedwater-heat. —Those gadgets enhanced steam production and locomotive efficiency.
SuperPower principles came into later use in Pennsy steam-locomotive design, but steam-locomotives weren’t as good as diesels.
The calendar mentions the Texans conquering Allegheny Crossing. But as I understand it, this use is in Ohio with its flat running, which made more sense than slogging up mountain grades.
SuperPower is aimed mainly at steam-generation at speed. A Texan cruising at 50+ mph makes more sense than pounding slowly up hills.
The Texans were powerful, but misapplied on Allegheny Crossing.
Wood got some excellent Pennsy photographs still in my head.
His best is his shot of the Mt. Carmel ore-train in snow. Another is a GG-1 electric roaring through Elizabeth, NJ on Elizabeth Curve.
He also got excellent shots of Pennsy K-4 Pacifics (4-6-2) on the New York & Long Branch.
When Nickel Plate Berkshire (2-8-4) #759 assaulted Horseshoe Curve years ago, Trains Magazine sent Wood to photograph it. He got a fabulous shot.


BALDWIN Sharks lead EMD F-units. (Photo by Ron Taylor.)

—I’d have ranked this calendar higher — it’s a pretty good picture.
But it makes a grievous error.
The October 2013 entry of my All-Pennsy color calendar identifies the lead locomotives as Sharks made by Alco.
Any railfan would know the Shark was made by Baldwin Locomotive Company, not Alco (American Locomotive Company).
Both Baldwin and American Locomotive Company were long-established manufacturers of steam-locomotives for the railroads.
Baldwin started in Philadelphia, but moved south to Eddystone, PA when it ran out of room.
Baldwin built many locomotives for Pennsy, although they were Pennsy design, not Baldwin.
American Locomotive Company is actually a merger of prior North-American locomotive manufacturers.
Baldwin and American Locomotive Company were the two premier locomotive manufacturers, until Lima Locomotive Company began to manufacture side-rod steam-locomotives.
Lima had come into being manufacturing geared Shay locomotives for logging railroads. Shays could handle much more challenging conditions and steeper grades than side-rod steamers.
Both Baldwin and American Locomotive Company switched to manufacturing diesel locomotives as railroads switched.
American Locomotive Company also changed its name to “Alco.”
Baldwin didn’t last very long. Its diesels were unreliable. The railroads tilted toward Electromotive Division (EMD, GM’s locomotive division). EMDs were dependable.
Alco lasted quite a bit longer. Its later diesels were as good as EMD, plus used less fuel.
Alco tanked when General-Electric began its “U” series of diesel-locomotives, what railfans call “U-boats.”

A U-boat is leading. (Photo by Bobbalew.)

The U-boats were even better than EMD, so Alco folded.
Alco had also been relying on General-Electric to supply its electricals and traction-motors.
General-Electric also went on to manufacture over-the-road diesel locomotives the railroads preferred. Even EMD was faltering.
GM has since divested itself of EMD, but EMD remains — although independent of GM.
EMD has since brought to market competitors for the GE locomotives. And railroads purchase.
But the Shark is definitely not Alco.
They’re stylings of Baldwin offerings by industrial-designer Raymond Loewy (“low-EEEE”).
He made them look pretty good, along the lines of his T-1 steam-locomotive for Pennsylvania Railroad.
Some railfans insist the Shark is the prettiest diesel-locomotive ever. The Shark is dramatic, but I still think the Alco PA looks better.


Beauty and grace, a Santa Fe warbonnet PA. (Photo by Joe McMillan.)

The calendar-picture is a great photograph, but it’s misidentified. That lift-bridge in the background makes the photograph.
Now we have to worry about the Wikipedians picking up the error and trumpeting it as fact.
I also have seen “Loewy” misspelled in print as “Lowey.”
I’ve seen an Internet article that claims Horseshoe Curve was built with four tracks.
No it wasn’t. It was originally built with one or two tracks, then increased to three around the end of the 19th century, and shortly thereafter to four.
But it wasn’t built with four tracks. It eventually had four, and since has been cut back to three.
One has to hope the Shark doesn’t become an Alco product — mistakes like that become fact. It’s the old Hitler waazoo. Repeat something enough times, and it becomes fact.
The Sharks were built by Baldwin.



Laughable! (Photo by Scott Williamson.)

—A ’53 Chevy?
What in the wide, wide world would ever possess someone to customize a ’53 Chevy?
The ’53 Chevy is one of the dumbest cars ever foisted on the American car-buyer by General Motors.
The October 2013 entry of my Oxman Hotrod Calendar is a customized ’53 Chevy.
I learned how to drive in a ’53 Chevy.

The “Blue-Bomb.” (That’s Yrs Truly at age-17 — I’m now 69.) (Photo by Lynne Huntsberger [now Killheffer].)

My father purchased it in 1954, used, from a matron in Philadelphia.
It was hardly used, only 5,000 miles. It wasn’t even a year old.
It was in such great shape my father had to borrow from my paternal grandparents to buy it.
My paternal grandfather was a skinflint. I’m sure he resisted. —It was probably my paternal grandmother.
It was a navy-blue Two-Ten two-door sedan, bad because we would have preferred four doors.
About all I remember is it had tinted glass, and was our first car with turn-signals and automatic transmission, PowerGlide.
My father never took care of it; I wonder if it ever had its oil changed? With him, car-expense was only the cost of purchase. Muffler-repairs were done with soup-cans.
Despite that, it was the only car we ever had that didn’t break down on vacation. All the way to St. Paul, MN in 1960, our best vacation ever.
From St. Paul we caught a train up into Canada.
By the time I learned how to drive, 1961, that turkey was almost due for replacement.
But I’ll never forget the first time I depressed that gas-pedal and felt that thing move.
I was 17, one year past eligibility. My father declared I wasn’t mature enough at 16. He thought I wasn’t mature enough at 17, but my mother weighed in.
I could be the family taxi-driver like her.
That ’53 Chevy quickly became my car. It’s shocks were spaghetti, and brakes flaccid. But by then most of its miles were mine.

Right after the accident. (Photo by Bobbalew.)

As fixed. (My conveyance to high-school.) (Photo by Bobbalew.)

I had an accident with it. I rear-ended a Mercedes-Benz on an icy railroad-crossing.
My father made it operable. He had the front-end pulled out, the radiator-leak plugged, and that headlight replaced.
By the winter of ’62, me returned home from college, it would still cruise at 65 mph, but no heat.
It failed inspection in ’63; its brake-shoes so worn, they were into the backing-plates. My father replace brake-shoes? Never in a million years!
By then it had over 100,000 miles.
The car was a turkey; I was calling it “The Blue-Bomb.”
It was the antithesis of what would appeal to a performance-geek.
But floored it would drop into Passing-Gear, good for about 60, maybe 4,000 rpm on the old Stovebolt.
I once laid 17 feet of rubber making a left turn that unloaded the left-rear tire. —Which was AMAZING!
The car was such a pig, yet faster than the ’57 BelAir six we got to replace it.
My guess is that at some time the calendar-car’s original owner had the car nosed and decked, removing the hood and trunk ornaments.
The customizing process had begun. —I remember a guy in high-school nosed and decked his ’52 Chevy coupe. By then we were in the era of the Tri-Chevys, but a ’55 Chevy was still too expensive for a high-schooler.
The car pictured was lowered on its suspension, and fender-skirts applied.
The car probably changed owners, but was never scrapped.
My guess is that at some time an owner got serious. Those ’56 Packard taillights look nice, but out-of-place on a ’53 Chevy. They should be on a ’54 Mercury.
Then it had to be chopped. I’m sure chopping was difficult — it’s not a ’32 Ford with it vertical top-pillars.
I don’t remember the ’53 Chevy available as a coupe, but it was.

A reproduction of the actual Jimmy Dean Merc. (1949 Mercury.)

A candy-green Jimmy Dean Merc — his was black, as above.

But that silly GM rear-fender bulge is still there.
Compare that to the Jimmy Dean Merc. You didn’t have to do much and it still looked great. Ford didn’t have a styling-department, yet GM did.
Yet some of the best-looking cars of all time are Fords, and the Jimmy Dean Merc is one of them.
Compared to it, a ’53 Chevy is a styling disaster.
The frame of this car was Z-ed to lower it even more.
The car also has a Mustang front suspension, a good move.
The old Stovebolt-six has been replaced with a 350-Chevy SmallBlock.
Is there any conveyance of any sort that couldn’t benefit from a 350-Chevy, including powered wheelchairs?
I’ve even seen ‘em in motorcycles.
Such a thing is utterly ridiculous.
To adequately cool it, it needs a giant fan and radiator. It looks like a whole-house air-conditioning unit. —Instead of a motorcycle.
And it weighs 700 pounds or more. The engine-block is cast-iron.
Would I buy this car? Even be interested?
Absolutely not!
The Jimmy Dean Merc skonks it royally.

The ’51 Buick custom. (Photo by Scott Williamson.)

Front of the ’53 Chevy custom. (Photo by Scott Williamson.)

Even that silly old Buick I ran a while ago looks better.
Rarely do I run two pictures of a calendar-entry. But the front-end of this custom is turgid.
Chevrolet fielded some pretty dumb cars, especially the ’49 through ’53.
The ’54 is essentially the ’53, but looks a lot better.
And I see I’ve been forgetting to name the photographer: Scott Williamson.