LEAVE ME ALONE!

(The picture I used.)

A little over a week ago, I did a Google Image-search for a picture of the Dodge that once raced for “The Ramchargers” drag-racing team.
I needed the pik for a Monthly Calendar-Report.
For some reason — I don’t remember why — I got redirected to Amazon.com. I was shown a book on the Ramchargers.
Did I want to buy it?
NO!
All I wanted was the picture.
Case closed, or so I thought.
A couple days later I fired up my Facebook, which I rarely do.
There on the right side of the page was an Amazon.com ad with the Ramchargers book.
Did I want to buy it?
No; a thousand times no.
I never click the right-side ads.
A few days later I fired up my PhotoBucket, where I keep my image-files.
My images on these blogs are at PhotoBucket. I use an http address.
I use the cheapest unlimited PhotoBucket, which isn’t ad-free.
All-of-a-sudden some shrill hussy starts shrieking at me to use Cascade dishwasher soap.
Scares the dickens out of me, but I pay no attention. I can also shut off the Cascade-lady by switching off PhotoBucket to another app.
So I fired up PhotoBucket, and there again is the Amazon.com ad for the Ramchargers book.
Enough already!
A few days ago I got a “junk” e-mail from Amazon.com suggesting the dreaded Ramchargers book again.
Is this what we’re coming to?
Our revolution in technology is inundating us with junk?
BAM! In the trash!
LEAVE ME ALONE!

Monthly Calendar-Report for May 2014

(BLOGS NOT WRITTEN:
With my wife gone, I no longer have time to blog as much as I previously did.
I had to set aside blog-ideas to get this Monthly Calendar-Report done on time.
Missing is a blog about Ford’s Mustang. The Mustang debuted 50 years ago last month.
Maybe this month. The Mustang is that important.)



Eastbound stacker at Alto. (Photo by Jack Hughes.)

—The May 2014 entry of my own calendar is another photograph by my brother Jack Hughes.
It’s off the 17th St. bridge in Altoona, where I’ve taken many photographs myself — some successful, some not.
17th St. overpass is right next to the old Pennsy “Alto” (same as the singer) tower, visible in the photograph, the final open tower on Allegheny-Crossing.
It remained because Altoona had a lot of activity, especially helper-locomotives added or detached for The Hill.
Alto is closed in this photograph. It was closed recently.
Dispatching Altoona was moved off-site — to Pittsburgh.
Trackage through Altoona was also reconfigured.
There used to be a gigantic ex-Pennsy signal-bridge at Alto, but that was replaced by new signaling at other locations.
Alto was built in 1925, after a disastrous runaway destroyed an earlier installation.
It’s a classic Pennsy tower. Supposedly it will be saved, transferred to Railroaders Memorial Museum in Altoona.
Altoona was very important to the Pennsylvania Railroad. It was their shop town, and manufactured locomotives for the railroad.
The railroad, of course, is no longer Pennsy. It’s Norfolk Southern.
But Altoona is still the base of the railroad-grade over Allegheny Mountain, a barrier to cross-PA trade in the early 1800s.
Whether Altoona can be dispatched from Pittsburgh is debatable.
It was difficult at first.
Things are better, but now so much traffic flows over the mountain, rail-capacity is strained.
Most of that added traffic is crude-oil.
The grade over Allegheny Mountain is a unique challenge.
Plenty of traffic has to cross it, and often helper-locomotives have to be added to get up The Hill, then safely down.
Those helper-locomotives have to be attached and detached, although an on-the-move detaching system called “Helper-Link” has been instituted.
And as always the railroad has to be maintained. Tracks have to be closed for maintenance, switches freeze in winter, and rails kink under the hot summer sun.
Locomotives fail, and I’ve seen trains stall on The Hill for lack of power.
Closing Alto may have been a mistake with the added oil-trains.
Trains get stopped for lack of railroad.
Trains all use the same track; you can’t just drive around a stopped train.
At Alto you could at least look outside and survey the situation.
There also was the advantage of seasoned veterans doing the dispatching.
Switch to Pittsburgh, and -a) you lose your vantage-point, and -b) you lose your veterans — unless they transferred to Pittsburgh.
I have a scanner that picks up local railroad-radio transmissions.
I miss “Jeannie” and “Marlon,” the guy named Bob who talked like Marlon Brando’s Godfather.
“Pittsburgh-East” has become familiar, but he’s not them.
My last visit, an eastbound was stopped before Brickyard Crossing for lack of railroad.
I also view a railroad webcam in Cresson (PA; “KRESS-in”), eastbound up the west slope of The Hill. Often trains are stopped out front.



A “winged-warrior.” (Photo by Peter Harholdt©.)

—The May 2014 entry in my Motorbooks Musclecar calendar is the most extreme musclecar of all time, a 1969 Dodge Daytona with the Hemi (“HEM-eee;” not “HE-me”) motor, what I call “the winged-warrior.”

Torino Talladega.

Chrysler was worried about the race-winning aerodynamics Ford was applying to its NASCAR racers, particularly the bluff front-end of Torino Talladegas, and Mercury Cyclone-Spoilers.
Both were special-editions for NASCAR racing. They had a front-end that improved top-speed aerodynamics. The average Torino and Cyclone had a front-end that was more a scoop; it slowed the car.
Both were options. 500 of each had to be built to allow them to race NASCAR.
So what was Chrysler gonna do to counter Ford? Their car had the phenomenal Hemi motor, but not the high-speed aerodynamics.
Viola! The Daytona. A special penetrating fiberglass front-end grafted to the Charger, and a giant wing installed out back, high enough to allow the trunk to open.
Extreme overkill!
Dodge had already filled in the concave rear-window of the average Charger to improve NASCAR aerodynamics. The “Winged-Warrior” was over-the-top.
NASCAR’s same rule applied. Chrysler has to build 500 Daytonas for the street.
Plymouth had a similar car in its “SuperBird.”
The Daytona was smashing success at racing.
So successful it was outlawed. 7-liter engine displacement was outlawed too.
NASCAR wanted their racecars to be based on “stock” cars.
The Daytona was not what Granny would buy.
The Hemi was also not well-suited for idling in traffic-jams.
Buddy Baker qualified his Daytona for a NASCAR race at over 200 mph, first car to do so.
The Winged-Warrior was so successful it was ruled out.
So here we have a Dodge Daytona for the street.
I can’t see it as much a street-racer, traffic-light to traffic-light.
With the aerodynamics it had it would crush anything else at top-speed on the expressway.
A 454 Chevelle might make more sense traffic-light to traffic-light.
But the Daytona was needed for flat-out NASCAR racing.
With the Hemi motor it might win the drags too.
I remember drag-racer Bill Jenkins converting to Hemi from his 409-Chevy.
His 409 always won, but a Hemi with its hemispherical heads would continue generating immense power at high speed.
The Hemi would pass a 409 because at high-speed the 409 was puking-out — although not by much.
The Hemi would finish stronger.
But that aero-package is NASCAR.

(Note rear-wheels offset forward.)

Chrysler was also offsetting its wheelbase to enhance drag-race performance, relocating the rear axle ahead of its usual location, which increased weight-transfer, and enhanced traction.
NASCAR could have done that. But it would have made a bad handler. The only thing the offset wheelbase was good for was drag-racing.


BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM! (Photo by Mike Usenia.)

—The May 2014 entry of my All-Pennsy color calendar is two Pennsy I-1s Decapods (2-10-0) bringing a heavy ore-train into Weigh Scales on Pennsy’s Mt. Carmel branch.

Pennsy’s I-1s Decapod (2-10-0).

Pennsy’s Decapod was their response to PA’s mountain challenges, a 10-drivered Consolidation — Consolidations were 2-8-0.
The Decapod was developed back in 1916 to produce 25% more power than the L-1s 2-8-2s.
It was so big for its time, Pennsy crews called ‘em “Hippos.”
The boiler was gigantic, although the firebox-grate was only 70 square feet, a standard Pennsy grate size, but still fairly large.
The Deks had such an appetite for coal, Pennsy assigned two firemen per engine at first. But even that wasn’t enough.
As far as I know, the Deks were the first Pennsy locomotive to receive mechanical stokers, an appliance Pennsy abhorred.
Pennsy hated appliances — they had to be maintained. Even appliances that enhanced steam-capacity. Just beef up the basic locomotive.
The Decapod had gigantic cylinders: 30&1/2-inch bore by 32-inch stroke.
They could generate immense power.
And since most of the locomotive-weight was on its 10 driving-wheels, it could generate immense tractive-effort.
Like all 10-drivered locomotives it suffered heavy vibration. All that heavy side-rod weight was flailing around.
You could offset it with counterbalancing, but you couldn’t do much with a small-drivered freight locomotive. —Plus the counterbalancing, like the side-rod weight, pounded the rail.
Pennsy modified its Deks, making an I-1sa. (“S” stood for superheat, as opposed to saturated steam — piping the steam back in the exhaust-flues to superheat it above 212°. Superheated steam was more efficient than “wet” steam, 212°. —As steam-locomotive development progressed, superheat became the norm, so Pennsy no longer used the letter “s.”).
The I-1sa increased the cutoff from 50% to 78%. The cutoff was the length of the piston-stroke steam was admitted.
Increasing cutoff increased tractive-effort, but more steam was used.
Not all Deks were converted to I-1sa, but most were. Pennsy had 598 Decapods, a huge fleet. Larger than any other railroad. Only Western Maryland’s were comparable in size, slightly larger. Western Maryland also had challenging terrain.
The Deks found excellent application late in their careers moving heavy iron-ore trains up Pennsy’s Mt. Carmel branch to an interchange with Lehigh Valley Railroad.
Two would pull, and two would push, slamming the heavy train up to the interchange.
The Dek also found application on the old line up to Sodus Point on Lake Ontario.
They’d move heavy coal-trains up the line from Williamsport (PA).
The line was difficult and torturous, what Deks seemed to excel at.
At Sodus Point the coal was transloaded onto a lake-ship.
Perhaps this train was to be weighed at Weigh-Scales.
Pennsy saved one of every significant steam-locomotive, unlike other railroads who scrapped old steamers.

The sole remaining Pennsy Dek, shorn of its boiler-wrap and asbestos insulation.

Most of these locomotives are at Railroad Museum of Pennsylvania in Strasburg, PA. But their Dek long ago was moved to the Westinghouse plant in Wilmerding, PA, then sold to a group in Buffalo, NY.
It still exists, and is apparently a veteran of the Sodus Point line, although it’s not operable.



It’s a hotrod, but not a Ford hotrod. (Photo by Scott Williamson.)

—The May 2014 entry of my Oxman Hotrod Calendar is a Buick. It celebrates the overhead-valve straight-eight inline Buick engine.
In the ‘30s and early ‘40s, Buick was sort of a performance car.

1936 Buick Century.

In fact, the Buick Century could be said to be the first musclecar, a high-output engine in a light chassis.
A concept later marketed by Pontiac with its G-T-O.
“Century” signified 100 mph.
Kind of ridiculous when the speed of average motoring was 20-30 mph.
Most automobile engines were still flat-head; valves beside the cylinders, which rendered contorted breathing-passages and poor combustion-chamber shape.
Buick had their valves in the cylinder-head. Flat-heads were just simple valveless head castings. Most lawnmower engines are still the same.
Buick activated its valves with pushrods and rockers. Valve-in-head made for better engine-breathing.
Chevrolet did the same with its inline six.
Eight cylinders inline made for a long whippy crankshaft.
Two inline four-cylinders made into a V8 wasn’t as difficult, except cylinders had to share crank-journals, two per journal.
That wasn’t as whippy as an inline eight-cylinder crankshaft.
Apparently the owner of the car pictured had already built two Ford-based hotrods, including a T-bucket.
His grandson suggested he build something non-Ford, so he decided to build a Buick speedster powered by the overhead-valve Buick straight-eight.
Ford hotrods are a dime-a-dozen. You can build one from non-Ford parts supplied by secondary outlets. Even the frame, and steel body-parts.
Used to be your non-Ford body-parts had to be fiberglass. But now you can get steel.
So now you don’t have to start your hotrod with an original Ford.
You can even build a ’32 Ford roadster hotrod out of non-Ford parts. Used to be you couldn’t.
The ’32 Ford roadster is the most desirable hotrod of all.
I even saw a kit for sale of reproduction parts for the Milner-coupe in American Graffiti. Everything but the motor and drivetrain.
Parts for a Buick Speedster would be almost impossible to get.
Yet this guy did it.
The Buick overhead valve straight-eight is hereby celebrated. A high-output engine for its time.



The greatest railroad-locomotive of all time. (H. Gerald MacDonald Collection©.)

—Could there be an All-Pennsy calendar without a GG-1 (“Jee-Jee-ONE;” I only say that because a friend was mispronouncing it “Jee-Jee-Eye”)?
The May 2014 entry of my Audio-Visual Designs black-and-white All-Pennsy Calendar is two GG-1 electric locomotives pulling a northbound freight toward Pennsy’s North Philadelphia station.
The train started in Potomac Yard near Washington, D.C., and is headed toward north Jersey: New York City.
Anyone who follows this here blog knows I consider the Pennsylvania Railroad’s GG-1 electric locomotive the greatest locomotive of all time.
They could put 9,000 horsepower to the railhead per single locomotive. A single current diesel locomotive is good for 4,400 horsepower.
In the early ‘30s Pennsy wanted a locomotive better for its crack passenger express-trains than its P-5 (4-6-4) electric.
Pennsy would experiment. They built two locomotives: the R-1 (4-8-4) and the GG-1 (4-6-6-4). The GG-1 was patterned after an electric locomotive on New Haven Railroad.
Pennsy expected the R-1 to succeed; it was essentially an eight-drivered P-5.
But the GG-1 won. It was more stable, and tracked better. The R-1, like the P-5, tended to “hunt,” lunge side-to-side.
The R-1 was never duplicated, yet the GG-1 was built in quantity.
Time to trot out my GG-1 pictures. I was lucky enough as a teenager to live near Pennsy’s Washington/New York electrified line through northern DE.
I saw GG-1s galore; and it seemed every time I saw one they were doing 90+ mph!


Here comes the Congo (“Congressional”). —That Baldwin switcher was in the way. (Photo by BobbaLew.)

In 1959 my neighbor and I went up to Philadelphia, from home in Wilmington, DE, to railfan. (My neighbor, like me, was a railfan.)
We would return on Pennsy’s Afternoon Congressional, by then a commuter-train that included coaches, no longer the premier Congressional Limited.
The picture is our train approaching Philadelphia’s 30th-St. station. Once on board, the engineer put the hammer down. Within minutes we were cruising at 80+ mph.
GG-1s could do that. 9,000 continuous horsepower would overheat the traction-motors, but you could do that pulling out of a station.


STAND BACK!” (Photo by BobbaLew.)

Another time I pedaled my bicycle up to nearby Claymont station — a commuter station.
I set up beside the four-track main, figuring a GG-1 express would be on an inside track.
But it wasn’t! It was on the track I was right next to. I was about eight feet from the track.
All-of-a-sudden here it came, a southbound GG-1 passenger-express doing 90+ mph.
Had I not had my arm hooked around a light-standard, similar to the one pictured, I woulda been sucked into the train.
And my father’s old Kodak HawkEye stopped it. Its fastest shutter-speed is 1/125th.
I will never forget it! That’s goin’ to my grave.
There were other locations. I reconnoitered many. A GG-1 at speed was a siren-song.
I remember viewing a rainy high-school football-game in Newark, DE, hard by the Washington/New York main. We lost, but all another railfan and I did the whole game was watch the GG-1s flash by.
Only one other location works.


Over Shellpot Creek. (Photo by BobbaLew.)


Over the flyover. (Photo by BobbaLew.)

That’s where Pennsy built a flyover over the Edgemoor Yard-entrance.
Edgemoor was the yard for Wilmington, DE, and the yard-entrance was at the outlet of Shellpot Creek into the Delaware River.
Northbound GG-1 passenger expresses would take the flyover, which had a long down-ramp back to grade-level north of the flyover.
That ramp would help a train accelerate.
But often a GG-1 express was already doing 80+.
If I am correct, the early low-numbered GG-1s were regeared down for freight-service. The lead GG-1, #4817, is one of those freight GG-1s.
A Pennsy K-4 Pacific (4-6-2) steam-locomotive powering a train for Pennsylvania-Reading (“REDD-ing,” not “READ-ing”) Seashore Lines in south Jersey is visible in the distance.
“Pennsylvania-Reading Seashore Lines” (PRSL) is an amalgamation of Pennsylvania and Reading railroad-lines in south Jersey to counter the fact the two railroads had too much parallel track. It was promulgated in 1933. It serviced mainly the south Jersey seashore from Philadelphia.
My railfanning began watching trains on Pennsylvania-Reading Seashore Lines.
Quite a few GG-1s were saved, but the one pictured below is best. It’s at Railroad Museum of Pennsylvania, #4935, painted in the original Raymond Loewy cat-whisker paint-scheme.
It’s not operable.
Pennsy’s old Washington/New York electrified-line has been upgraded as Amtrak’s Northeast Corridor. GG-1s would no longer work.


#4935. (Photo by Tom Hughes.)

(“Tom Hughes” is my nephew, the only son of my brother in northern DE. He’s also a railfan.)
As always, I note the rubber hose encasing a chain on the front-door is askew. If I had been the engineer I would have straightened it.



A daily train of automobiles passes Rutherford, PA, bound for north Jersey. (Photo by Bruce Kerr.)

—The May 2014 entry in my Norfolk Southern Employees’ Photography-Contest calendar is a trainload of autos from Bellevue, Ohio, bound for the New York City area.
It’s on the old Reading Harrisburg-north Jersey line that Conrail made its freight-route toward New York after the old Pennsy electrified line became Amtrak’s Northeast Corridor.
Norfolk Southern took over the line when Conrail was broken up and sold in 1999 — Norfolk Southern purchasing most of Conrail’s lines in PA.
The lead locomotive is not what I thought it was, an EMD SD-70, frequently used on Norfolk Southern freight-trains.
It’s an SD-60 manufactured in 1985. It’s followed by an SD-60M (1993), another SD-60 also in the Wiki listing. (The purple-text is a hyper-text link, as are “EMD” and “SD-70” above.)
EMD is Electromotive Division, the locomotive manufacturer of General Motors. But it was sold to Caterpillar with the GM bankruptcy.
I did some Google-satellite research. Reading interchanges with the old Pennsy south of Harrisburg on the east bank of the Susquehanna (“suss-kwe-HAN-uh;” as in “and”) river. But it also crossed the river on a long bridge.
That Reading line then continues south; I don’t see it interchanging with Pennsy’s west-shore riverside line up to Enola (“aye-NOLE-uh;” as in “hay”) Yard.
So I don’t know as trains from the west can access Enola before switching onto the Reading line to get to the New York area.
I think Pennsy had other bridge crossings south of Enola, but a train from the west might have to cross Rockville Bridge, and thread Harrisburg, to get to the Reading line.
This photograph looks a lot like one I took at Allegheny Crossing.
It’s also solid auto-racks, and uninspiring.
It may even be the same train.


Near Cresson. (Photo by BobbaLew.)

The judges for the Norfolk Southern Employees’ Photography-Contest calendar always tilt toward a flower-picture for May.



At least they’re not biplanes. (Photo by Philip Makanna©.)


—And now, at last my final calendar.
The May 2014 entry of my Ghosts WWII warbirds calendar is three Ryan “Recruit” trainers flying in echelon formation.
My running this picture last probably isn’t fair. The “Recruit” was a pretty good airplane, but not the P-51 Mustang, a Spitfire, or a Lightning.
Nor any of the fabulous Navy fighters, like the Corsair and the Grumman Hellcat.
But in order to fly such a hotrod, the would-be pilot had to start somewhere.
The lowly “Recruit” was a basic-trainer.
And a monoplane at that. Basic-trainers were often biplanes (“buy-plain;” I say that because yrs trly was at first mispronouncing it “BIP-lane”).

Two wings (a Stearman).

For example, the Stearman trainer was a biplane; it had two wings.
The Recruit only has one wing, a monoplane.
I’ll let my WWII warbirds site weigh in:
“The Ryan Recruit was the U.S. Army Air Corps’ first monoplane primary trainer.
Initial testing of a single Ryan S-T-A (Sport-Trainer-A) resulted in an order for 15 more aircraft, re-designated the YPT-16, for evaluation in 1939.
Finding this tandem two-seater to be an excellent design, the USAAC ordered a production batch of 30 aircraft, designated the PT-20.
In 1941, the Army decided a new more powerful engine was needed to endure the rigors of training new pilots. Ryan Aeronautical replaced the inline engine of the previous version with a Kinner radial engine.
The resulting PT-21 was so superior that many PT-16s and PT-20s were upgraded with the new engine, becoming PT-16As and PT-20As.
With flight training programs expanding across the United States, 1,023 more planes were ordered. These had an improved Kinner radial, no wheel spats, and the deletion of the main landing gear fairings. This became the PT-22. [What’s pictured.]
The Navy also ordered Recruits and re-designated them as NR-1s, and the Netherlands ordered 25 Recruits and called them NR-3s. The Navy used these trainers until 1944, and the U.S. Army Air-Corps would retire the Recruit at the end of WWII.”
It’s an excellent photograph. I only run it last because the airplanes aren’t WWII hotrods.
I also notice the terrain below. It looks very familiar, like terrain approaching Tehachapi Pass (“tuh-HATCH-uh-PEE”) in central California.
A railroad was opened in 1876. It has to get from the low elevation of the San Joaquin valley up to California’s Mojave Desert — the so-called “high desert.”
The Tehachapi mountains separate the two.

Tehachapi Loop. (Photo by Bobbalew.)

Hills approach Tehachapi Pass, and the railroad has to climb those hills over a steep and torturous grade. The railroad even has a loop in it known as Tehachapi Loop.
The railroad loops over itself, 77 feet above itself.
Tehachapi Loop is one of the railfan pilgrimage spots.
I’ve seen it myself, and the terrain is just like what’s pictured.
Grass grows in Spring, then becomes tinder in Summer, when it’s arid and dry.

Legacies

Legacies. (Photo by BobbaLew.)

My wife and I lived 22 years in my current house.
She died a little over two yeas ago.

(April 20th, 2014.) (Photo by Bobbalew.)

My wife of over 44 years died of cancer April 17th, 2012. I miss her dearly.
She and I designed this house. An architect drew it up, and a contractor built it for us.
Our intent was to ease advancing age. Everything is on one floor, even the laundry and freezer. I rarely have to go down to the basement.
I also don’t have to climb stairs to get to my bedroom. It’s on the same floor.
The doors are all 36-inch; wide enough to pass a wheelchair, although I’m not in one yet.
The house is also super-insulated. Foot-thick exterior walls filled with fiberglass insulation.
Our goal was to reduce heating-costs. Our furnace is small enough for the average 1,200 square-foot house, although I think I’m 1,952 square-feet.
I also don’t have to turn on my whole-house air-conditioning until late June.
Over those 22 years my wife planted any number of things throughout our gigantic lawn.
Our house is on a retired cornfield. We let a lot of it reforest, but at least 2+ acres is grass.
I don’t know as what’s pictured is one of my wife’s transplants.
I know the bleeding-hearts next to our shed are. Those bleeding-hearts won’t flower for a while. I think I blogged them last year, although I thought they were something else.
I decided to walk my dog around our property last night (Saturday, April 19th, 2014), instead of to a small town park up the road.
My left knee aches. It seems to have worsened with advancing age; that is, as everything else got weaker.
I can do property-walks off-leash. My wife and I had a gigantic five-foot chain-link fence installed around our property so I could. It cost $16,000!
It keeps my dog safely out of the highway: NY State Route 65.
As I hobbled around my property, I came upon the daffodils pictured.
As I said, I don’t know as my wife planted ‘em, but I’m sure she nurtured ‘em.
I started crying.
Legacies like this are all over my property.
Under my bedroom are hostas my wife planted.
Every time she pointed them out, I’d say “Hasta-la-Vista, Baby!”

• My current dog is “Scarlett” (two “Ts,” as in Scarlett O’Hara), a rescue Irish-Setter. She’s almost nine, and is my sixth Irish-Setter, a high-energy dog. (A “rescue Irish Setter” is an Irish Setter rescued from a bad home; e.g. abusive or a puppy-mill. [Scarlett was from a failed backyard breeder.] By getting a rescue-dog, we avoid puppydom, but the dog is often messed up. —Scarlett isn't bad. She’s my fourth rescue.)

Two years

This is years ago. (Photo by Bobbalew.)

Today (Thursday, April 17th, 2014) is the two-year anniversary of my beloved wife’s death.
We were married over 44 years, and I miss her dearly.
My brother in northern Delaware, who knew a brother-in-law who lost his wife in a motorcycle accident, told me I’d be over my wife’s death in two years.
I don’t know as I’m “over it.” I don’t know as I’ll ever be.
But people tell me I’m not crying every minute, or starting conversations with my wife’s death.
As I was at first.
Looking back, I’d say the first year I was stunned. Things happened, but I don’t remember anything.
All I remember is my camera failed in Altoona chasing trains, and my lawnmower-engine needed repair just to make it startable.
I also remember getting snowed-in once.
It was like everything went wrong after my wife died, but my house didn’t burn down.
I attended a grief-share for a while. It was beneficial talking to people who understood.
But I tired of continually explaining my commitment to my dog.
So when a cohort wondered when we should stop attending, I decided to stop attending.
Furthermore, the reasons I was attending were not coming, so why should I?
I decided to switch to an alternative bereavement-group, but I wonder about that.
People tell me I’m better than I was at first, but I still feel like I’m not in the real world.
I also can start crying at the drop of a hat.
But two years have passed, and it all seems long ago.
Millions of things go wrong, and I have much more to do with my wife gone.
The person who makes the bed is me, the person who feeds my dog is me, the one who does laundry is me.
I still continue many of the traditions my wife started, but I allow my dog on the bed.
My wife would have never allowed that, but now it’s my house.
Much as I don’t want it to be.
And no matter how little motivation I have to do anything, I figure I owe that much to my dog. She no longer has two caretakers, only me.
My dog has adjusted, but not this kid.

• RE: “In Altoona chasing trains...” —I’m a railfan, and have been since age-2; I’m now 70. In Altoona, PA the Pennsylvania Railroad built up over Allegheny Mountain, the railroad has a lot of traffic, so I chase trains in the area. The railroad is now Norfolk Southern. I do an Internet calendar with the pictures I take.

Rockville Bridge

Rockville Bridge from above. (Photo by Tom Hollyman.)

How do I photographically depict one of the greatest engineering triumphs of all time, mighty Rockville Bridge slung across the Susquehanna (“suss-kwee-HA-nuh;” as in “and”) River north of Harrisburg, PA, by the Pennsylvania Railroad (“Pennsy”) about the turn of the 20th century?


A “Dek” (Decapod 2-10-0) heads west toward Enola yard in 1955. (Photo by Don Wood.)


A freight led by a U-boat heads east across the bridge, and will cross over to head north toward Sunbury in 1963. (Photo by Bob Malinoski.)

Forty-eight 70-foot stone arches march majestically across the river, 3,820 feet long, almost three-quarters of a mile.
It’s like Horseshoe Curve. No camera can do it justice. You have to see it yourself.
A camera always produces a rectangular image. It can only depict a small portion of the bridge, and at the same time focus on that portion.
Your eye will do what no camera can do, focus on what’s in front of you, then follow the bridge across the river — way too long for a camera-image.
This is like Horseshoe Curve. Your eye first focuses on the north calk, then follows the track around to the south calk, which is visibly higher than the north calk.
There’s no way a camera can depict how the railroad is pinned to the mountainsides. You have to see that yourself.

(Photo by Dan Cupper [the book’s author].)

A memorial sign says Rockville Bridge is the longest stone-masonry bridge in the world.
Not exactly.
What you see is stone-masonry, but inside is concrete.
I used to say “only a direct hit from a thermonuclear warhead could take Rockville out,” but it’s fragile.
Rockville has endured floods, but a portion did wash out a few years ago.
There are other bridges as impressive as Rockville.
Even more impressive is mighty Tunkhannock Viaduct (“Tunk-HA-nuck;” as in “and”) near Scranton built by Delaware, Lackawanna & Western Railroad. It opened in 1915.


A long freight crosses Tunkhannock Viaduct. (Canadian Pacific operates the railroad.) (Photo by Michael Sullivan.)

It’s reinforced concrete. When Rockville was built, reinforced concrete was still a technical challenge.
Every time I see Tunkhannock I say “this was built with private money.” —Would public money take on such a challenge?
Tunkhannock leaps the entire Tunkhannock defile, what used to require a railroad-grade down into the valley, and then back up out.
Another famous railroad-bridge is Starrucca Viaduct (“stuh-ROO-kuh;” as in “rule”) in northeastern PA.


Starrucca Viaduct.

Starrucca was built by Erie Railroad, which was supposed to be all in New York, but took this short diversion into PA to ease grading.
I’ve seen both Starrucca and Tunkhannock, and Starrucca is not that impressive. But it was built in 1848. It’s all stone, and still in use.
The last time I visited Allegheny Crossing a few weeks ago I bought a book about Rockville Bridge.
The Susquehanna was one of two barriers to trade across PA in the early 1800s.
The other barrier is Allegheny Mountain; the Susquehanna was easier.
The Susquehanna is not navigable, it’s too shallow. Canals were built next to it, but they couldn’t accommodate ocean-going ships.
Railroads were the coming thing in the early 1800s; there was a state-sponsored railroad from Philadelphia to the Susquehanna.
So how does a railroad get across the Susquehanna to promote Pittsburgh-to-Philadelphia trade?
The current Rockville Bridge is bridge number-three. First was a long wooden bridge built about 1847 when Pennsy first built.
The stone footings for this bridge are still visible in the riverbed.
That bridge was only single-track, and quickly became a bottleneck.
I think I earlier reported it as double-track.
The wooden bridge was replaced by a double-track iron truss in 1877. Even that bridge became a bottleneck.
The current bridge was built four tracks wide, but has since been reduced to two and three.

A Conrail welded-rail train negotiates the bridge. (Photo by Jim Bradley.)

It’s still four tracks in many of the pictures posted herein.
I’ve been across Rockville, an around-PA railfan excursion my wife and I took a few years ago, out of Altoona.
We took the old Pennsy Bald Eagle branch north to Lock Haven. That railroad is now the Nittany & Bald Eagle short-line.
In Lock Haven we joined the Norfolk Southern Buffalo/Erie line, then came back down the eastern shore of the Susquehanna to Rockville.
There we got on the original Pennsy main, which used Rockville Bridge.
It was dusk, yet here we were, gliding placidly over the wide Susquehanna below.
It was surreal, just getting across takes a few minutes.
Every railfan should see Rockville; it’s impressive.
A train on it is tiny. Often an entire train will fit on the bridge, perhaps as many as 80 cars.
Rockville is still in use. In fact, it was considered as a base for the Interstate-81 bridge over the Susquehanna.
That didn’t happen. Interstate-81 built its own bridge south of Rockville.
Rockville is no longer the mainline across PA. Freight goes down to Enola (“aye-NOLE-uh;” as in “hay”) Yard southwest of Harrisburg, where it heads toward New York City via the old Reading (“redd-ing;” not “read-ing”) line, after the old Pennsy electrified-line became Amtrak’s Northeast Corridor.
Even Pennsy degraded Rockville Bridge. Rockville was part of the original Pennsy main, Harrisburg to Pittsburgh.
But Harrisburg became a bottleneck, so much Pennsy built Enola southwest of Harrisburg across the river.
So much freight was moving east over Pennsy, they began routing it to Enola, where it could switch over to Pennsy’s electrified freight-lines east.
But passenger service continued over the original Pennsy through Harrisburg, then over Rockville.
But passenger service became moribund.
So Rockville is now more just a river-crossing for freight from Enola bound for the eastern shore of the river, then north.
That’s not the original Pennsy main, and of course the railroad is no longer Pennsy. It’s Norfolk Southern, a successor to Conrail.
Yet Rockville remains.
Every time I see it I think “It would take a direct-hit from a thermonuclear warhead to take it out!”


(Photo by Rodney DiPaolo.)

• I am a railfan, and have been since age-two (I’m 70).
• A “U-boat” is General-Electric’s “U” (utility) series freight locomotive. Railfans called ‘em “U-boats.”
• My beloved wife of over 44 years died of cancer April 17th, 2012. I miss her dearly.

Ain’t doin’ it!

My electric can-opener.

As my ability to operate a hand can-opener degraded with advancing age.......
.....I decided to get an electric can-opener.
I would try Mighty Lowes in nearby Canandaigua at first, where my wife and I bought a toaster and Osterizer a few years ago.
My wife died almost two years ago. I miss her dearly.
Lowes was no longer selling small kitchen appliances, only dishwashers, refrigerators, freezers, etc.
What to do.
I did not want to shop around, like Walmart*, where I might get kissed by a urine-smelling geezer.
So I fired up my Internet.
I cranked “electric can-opener” into my Froogle®, Google’s product search-engine.
Who knows if Froogle exists anymore; Google doesn’t promote it. If I’d cranked “electric can-opener” into my regular Google-search, I’d probably get the same hits.
There they all were; standing tall. At least they didn’t look like vacuum-cleaners, rejects from the Star Wars cantina-set.
I poked around, trying to find the best price.
They all would want shipping, which to me is about the same as shopping-around.
If I try store-to-store I’ll eat up hours I don’t have, and cost about the same as for gas.
I zeroed in on a stainless-steel Cuisinart® electric can-opener (pictured) available from Hammacher-Schlemmer.®
I ordered it; $49.95, plus $16.60 shipping and tax. Readers will weigh in with better deals, but I don’t have time to poke around.
That is, my time is more valuable than the ten bucks I might save.
Hammacher-Schlemmer sent me the can-opener. It arrived the other day (Thursday April 10th, 2014) UPS RediPost. I could hardly get it out of my mailbox; it had been wedged in.
The can-opener had been packed in a cardboard carton perhaps twice as big as the can-opener.
I had to deflate and toss three cushioning plastic air-sacks.
I finally unwrapped my can-opener and plugged it in. It worked as promised.
A gloom-and-doom brochure was included, warning “For Household Use Only.”
Listed were “important safeguards,” like “Do not open pressurized (aerosol-type) cans, and “Do not open cans of flammable liquids.”
Ah-DUH!
Like I might try a can of charcoal-lighter had I not read this warning, although I suppose there are those that would.
But I guess they gotta say this, lest some dork decide to sue — at the behest of some lawyer.
There also was notification I should register my can-opener at www.cuisinart.com.
Uh-ohhh....... Wave goodbye to a half-hour telling them I ski, etc.
As if my interest in photography has anything to do with the can-opener I bought.
So I fired up www.cuisinart.com, and clicked their “register” tab.
No, I don’t want to log-in, nor set up a log-in.
So began the long registration process, which fell into questions about my age, proclivities, etc.
My computer is on a work-area, and I use a peripheral keyboard. This ‘pyooter is a laptop, and has its own keyboard. But I use my peripheral because I can work it better.
I also have a peripheral mouse. My laptop has a swipe-pad, but compared to an actual mouse, it sucks.
I guess I’m old-school.
My peripheral keyboard has a calculator keypad at right. It also has an “enter” key, just like its qwerty keyboard.
I have to be careful lest I brush that “enter” key with my sleeve.
I began filling in the registration. All-of-a-sudden BAM! I got slammed to the next page.
The registration-page, which was more than three screen-pages, must have had a blue-highlighted “continue” button at the bottom. Breathe on your enter-key, and you get zoomed to the next page.
I tried the “back” button; back to the registration-page.
I continued filling it out. Lots of questions about inclinations and interests, plus the brands of my dishwasher, freezer, and stove.
BAM! Off it went again!
I hit my “back” button again, but I was back to square-one.
My registration-page was completely blank.
I’d have to fill it all in again.
“I ain’t doin’ it!” “I screamed. “I have a dog waiting for her walk.
You’ve already wasted 15-20 minutes asking me questions totally unrelated to this purchase, and now you want me to start over.
I ain’t doin’ it!”
I noticed an e-mail from Cuisinart before I shut off. “Thank you for registering your purchase.”

• I find it interesting I am now getting glittering e-mail catalogs from Hammacher-Schlemmer, which I promptly trash. I didn’t sign up for them. —Some time ago I “opted-out” of e-mail solicitations from a local charity. “Are you sure?” they begged. “We’ll miss you.” I continue getting them anyway.
• “‘Pyooter” is computer.
• A “qwerty keyboard” is the typical keyboard once used on typewriters. Look to the left and you’ll see the letters “Q-W-E-R-T-Y.” Computers use this.
• RE: “Blue-highlighted.....” A MAC OS-X thing. Active enter keys are blue-highlighted. (OS-X is the operating-system on this computer.)

Can’t compute

Are they kidding? (Photo by BobbaLew.)

I have a hard time cogitating the above sign.
My supermarket, who goes out of their way to be friendly, has posted the above gloom-and-doom sign in their container-exchange area.
The supermarket is Mighty Weggers — Wegmans supermarkets of Rochester (N.Y.)
They are as much an institution as the Post Office, or the YMCA.
They’re also an attractive supermarket, well stocked and well staffed.
They always finish well up, often on top, in the “Fortune-100 Best Places to Work.”
You don’t wait in line to be checked out. At a competing supermarket the express-line might be 20 deep.
At Wegmans there never are lines. They always have plenty of cashiers open.
And their product is pretty good — perhaps a little over-priced, but worth it.
You’re not picking through garbage.
“Yo Luke,” you might hear at another supermarket.
“Toss me that there peach so I can smash it outta the store with this here banana.”
At Weggers you never hear that.
Shopping there is pleasant.
They seem to have the same attitude I had driving bus.
That is, there may be a few rotten apples out there, but it’s more important to not lose a customer.
Driving bus I used to figure 99% of my patrons paid to correct fare.
There was no sense checking.
Our fareboxes were a disaster. I wasn’t about to turn off a good customer just because the farebox miscounted, which usually happened.
Once-in-a-while I’d get some lackey wanting to rip me off. I’d let it go. If I didn’t, I might get mugged or shot.
I’d also remember that 99% of my customers weren’t trying to rip me off.
Weggers does the same.
A while ago I purchased a quart cardboard carton of Egg-Beaters.
I holed it squeezing it into my car-cooler; it began leaking profusely.
I noticed before I left the parking-lot, so I took my leaky carton back into the Wegmans.
The service-desk happily replaced it; no snide comments, no pointed accusations, no noisy put-downs.
Even though it was my fault!
Those Egg-Beaters may have cost $3.54. It was better to lose that $3.54 than lose me as a customer.
Yet here we have this sign in the container-return area.
Really?
Prompt the container-police if I dare return a can not purchased in this state?
It was bad enough when the machines wouldn’t remit a bottle-deposit for soda-cans bought in the store.
“Can’t remit. Product not sold in our store!”
I had to pull teeth: “I bought that soda right here in this Wegmans,” I said. “You’re selling it on your soda-shelves. You might wanna look!”
Weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth......
Now their machines remit for Sun-Drop cans.
Seems the whole point of a container-deposit law was to get the unsightly containers from roadside back to the store.
So some ne’er-do-well from northern PA, which doesn’t have container-deposit, tosses his empty beer-can above the state-line in New York, which has container-deposit.
Dare I exchange that can for fear of inflaming the container-police?
Crew-cut bruisers behind the walls in the exchange-area monitor my container returns.
I return the can found by the NY state-line.
Law enforcement personnel burst out and collar me.
“You in deep trouble, boy!”
Somehow this doesn’t seem like Weggers.

• For 16&1/2 years (1977-1993) I drove transit bus for Regional Transit Service (RTS) in Rochester, NY, a public employer, the transit-bus operator in Rochester and environs. My stroke October 26th, 1993 ended that. I retired on medical-disability. I recovered fairly well.

Monthly Calendar-Report for April 2014

(About a week late; not too bad.
I almost considered walking away this time; I had only done my own calendar, and had all the rest to do — it was March 26th.
But I know I have people who look forward to this, and it looked like I could get it done quickly.)



The “Queen of the West End.” (Photo by Jack Hughes.)

—The April 2014 entry of my own calendar is restored steam-locomotive Nickel Plate 765, the finest restored steam-locomotive I have ever seen.
The photograph was taken by Jack Hughes, my brother from Boston.
I had to move heaven-and-earth to get him to see this thing back in 1993.
“Jack, you gotta see this engine!”
“How do I find it, Bobby?”
“Just look for the smoke,” I exclaimed.
I suppose you could say Norfolk & Western J #611 (4-8-4), is even better, but 611 is retired and no longer in service.
I rode behind 611. It has roller-bearings in everything, even the siderods.
But 611 was restricted to 45 mph after derailment of its following train.
45 mph is hardly what 611 was capable of, and thankfully I rode it before the derailment.
We were cruising at 80 mph!
To me comparing 611 to 765 is like comparing a Big-Block Chevy to the SmallBlock Chevy. Both can be extraordinarily powerful. 611 is the Big-Block, 765 the SmallBlock.
765 may also be limited to 45 mph on Norfolk Southern. 611 was operating on Norfolk Southern, a merger of Norfolk & Western and Southern Railway.
But 765 was restored to what it did years ago, boom-and-zoom.
I rode behind 765 years ago, and we cruised at 70+ mph.
I will never forget it! That’s goin’ to my grave.
We were pulling a 33-car fall foliage excursion through New River Gorge on Chesapeake & Ohio through WV.
C&O gave us the railroad, all green signals.
Throttle-to-the-roof! We clocked it.
We passed a stopped coal-train in a siding: zoom-zoom-zoom-zoom! Perhaps three cars per second.
A gondola-car was in front of our car with a generator to power our cars.
That gondola was rockin’-and-rollin’, twisting this-way-and-that.
I doubt that gondola had ever gone that fast.
You don’t have to pussyfoot 765.
The restoration was by Fort Wayne Railroad Historical Society, a private group, not a railroad.
Yet it was restored to do what Nickel Plate had done, move fast-freight into Buffalo (NY) thereby competing with New York Central, actually Lake Shore and Michigan Southern Railway at first, which had a monopoly until Nickel Plate.
Nickel Plate is actually New York, Chicago & St. Louis.
Legend has it a New York Central executive declared it was nickel-plated because it was so competitive.
But actually it was a newspaper in Norwalk, Ohio. People were desperate to get NY,C&StL to route through their town, and would send parties to lobby the proposed railroad, which they declared to be nickel-plated. When a railroad survey-team arrived in Norwalk. the newspaper declared the railroad to be “nickel-plated.”
But NY,C&StL went through Bellevue, instead.
The railroad renamed itself “Nickel Plate.” Norfolk & Western merged Nickel Plate in 1964.
765 is a Lima (“LYE-muh;” not “LEE-muh;” as in “lima-bean”) SuperPower 2-8-4 Berkshire, named after the mountains in western Massachusetts that wheel-arrangement was designed to conquer.
“SuperPower” was Lima Locomotive’s attempt to sell standard side-rod steam-locomotives by improving locomotive performance.
Previously Lima had constructed Shay logging locomotives, which weren’t side-rod.
The main goal was to improve steam-generation at speed. A SuperPower locomotive wouldn’t run out of steam at speed.
They had a gigantic firebox grate and boiler.
The idea was to keep up with steam-demand at speed.
SuperPower was perfect for Nickel Plate. They needed engines that could boom-and-zoom. Dragging up hills wasn’t required.
Nickel Plate bought a slew of SuperPower Berkshires.
My brother and I went to Altoona (PA) to see 765.
765 would pull Employee-Appreciation excursions up The Hill and around Horseshoe Curve.
I needn’t explain Horseshoe Curve. I’ve done it may times in this blog. I’ll just say it’s the BEST railfan-spot I’ve ever been to.
I have a slew of 765 photographs my brother-and-I took; I suppose I should run as many as I can.
I even considered an all-765 calendar, but I didn’t have enough calendar-quality pictures. Many are repeats.

Nickel Plate 765, the BEST restored steam-locomotive of all. (Photo by Bobbalew.)

My brother arrived a day earlier than me, so hung out where 765 was being stored.
765 came out to back up and go get its train.
That’s what’s in the calendar-picture.
765 has an auxiliary water-car that was used on 611 excursions. It lessens having to stop and fill the tender from a fire-hydrant. Water-towers are no longer along the railroad.
765 wouldn’t use much water just climbing The Hill. And coming back down it’s not working steam.
765 would climb The Hill in the lead, with Norfolk Southern Pennsy Heritage-Unit #8102 pushing.
Coming back down was just the reverse of going up, except now 8102 was leading, and 765 was in reverse on the back end.
765 has a GPS transponder. You can get an app for your SmartPhone to tell where it is.
I have since added that app to my iPhone, but my brother installed it there on his Android.
“Here it comes!” my brother shouted. We were on the 24th St. overpass in Altoona over Slope Interlocking.
765’s GPS had it leaving Altoona station.
After shooting we roared up to Gallitzin (“guh-LIT-zin;” as in “get”), the top of The Hill, to snag it coming out of the tunnel atop the mountain.
It burst out of the tunnel, whistle shrieking; a thrill for this old widower.
The shot pictured is actually my second shot — 765 ran two uphill excursions per day. My first shot was obscured by a fan. People had come out from everywhere to see 765.
I didn’t have much location-selection, not what I usually have in this calendar.
Just up-and-back four times, twice per day (Saturday and Sunday). That passes maybe three locations per trip.
And many of those locations there was not enough time to get to, or from.
I had to make do with “cheat-shots.” 765 looks like it’s leading, but actually it’s in reverse, the train backing down.
My third picture is a “cheat-shot.” 8102, in the distance, is leading going away.
765’s firebox would trip the hot-wheel detector at milepost 238.2.
It’s the first I’ve heard that detector go ballistic.
“Emergency, emergency!” it screamed. “Stop your train!”
Knowing many railfans follow this here blog, and -a) steam-locomotives excite many railfans, and -b) Nickel Plate 765 is the BEST restored steam-locomotive I have ever seen.......
Herewith:


Off we go, to the station — train in tow. (Photo by BobbaLew.)


The best there is. (765 crests The Hill.) (Photo by Jack Hughes.)


My cheat-shot; the train is actually backing. 8102 is pulling at the other end. (Photo by BobbaLew.)


Another cheat-shot. (Photo by BobbaLew.)


In profile — “The Queen of the West End.” (Photo by Jack Hughes.)


“The Hill” is of course the railroad-grade over Allegheny mountain; what was a barrier to trade across PA in the early 1800s. “The Hill” includes Horseshoe Curve, the trick John Edgar Thomson used to get the Pennsylvania Railroad over Allegheny mountain without steep grades.
The railroad still uses Thomson’s alignment. Horseshoe Curve opened in 1854.
The grade isn’t very steep, only 1.75% on average on the eastern slope. The western slope is easier.
1.75% is 1.75 feet up for every 100 feet forward.
Had it not been for Thomson, Pittsburgh may have gravitated toward the Baltimore & Ohio Railroad, and Baltimore instead of Philadelphia.
The Pennsylvania Railroad considered Horseshoe Curve a venerable icon.
Pennsy passenger-trains would stop so those therein could view Horseshoe Curve. Horseshoe Curve was on a Pennsy calendar.
It’s now a historical site. A funicular inclined-plane railroad has been built up to the viewing-area, and museum buildings installed.
I have been to many railfan sites, and I still consider Horseshoe Curve to be the best. The trains, and there are many, are right in your face!
Nickel Plate Railroad was very happy with its Lima SuperPower Berkshires.
In fact, Nickel Plate continued to use steam power until 1960; they were one of the final steam holdouts.
And apparently Nickel Plate 765 ended up being one of the railroad’s finest Berkshires; so good they nicknamed it “The Queen of the West End.”
Many Nickel Plate Berkshires were saved, including 765. At first 765 was renumbered to 767, and displayed in Fort Wayne, IN, in honor of the elevation of Nickel Plate trackage through the city.
Volunteers set about restoring the locomotive, changing it back to 765.
One of the restorers was Rich Melvin, who wanted 765 to be the fantastic engine she once was.
And she is. 765 can boom-and-zoom!
Another group set about restoring another Lima SuperPower Berkshire, Pere Marquette (“pear mar-KETT”) 1225, the Polar Express engine.
But unfortunately 1225 is a joke compared to 765. The two locomotives ran side-by-side in WV, and 765 put 1225 on-the-trailer.
I think 1225 even crippled, sorta. They had to stop; 1225 couldn’t run like 765.
And 765 was pulling a train; 1225 wasn’t.
765 is the BEST there is, and I think we can thank Rich Melvin.



Two Norfolk Southern heritage-units lead a crude-oil train along the Ohio river. (Photo by Roger Durfee.)

—Durfee strikes again!
The April 2014 entry in my Norfolk Southern Employees’ Photography-Contest calendar is by Roger Durfee, a Norfolk Southern conductor.
I always like Durfee’s pictures because he has an appreciation of setting, the landscape the railroad negotiates.
Filling your frame with locomotive is nice, but to me setting is what makes the picture.
Here a long Norfolk Southern crude-oil train is threading old Pennsy trackage next to the Ohio river approaching Pittsburgh.
At least I think it’s Pennsy.
I can think of at least two other Durfee pictures that ran in this calendar. The calendar says he’s been in six times.
I could only find one, his winter shot looking into the rock cut at Cassandra (“kuh-SANN-druh;” as in “Anne”) Railfan Overlook.

Through the cut at Cassandra. (Photo by Roger Durfee.)

My fall-foliage shot at the overlook. (Photo by Bobbalew.)

The shot I can’t find is the vantage-point high above the portal of New Portage tunnel.
I tried the same photograph years ago as a fall-foliage shot, but it’s not very good. My train was on Track Two; nothing was on Track One.
Durfee’s shot is not fall foliage, but his train was on Track One, which makes it a cheat-shot. The helper-engines on the rear of the train look like they’re pulling the train toward you. But they aren’t.
The train is descending “The Slide,” which gets Track One back to the levels of Two and Three. New Portage tunnel is above the original Pennsy tunnel.
It’s fairly steep, 2.28%; down 2.28 feet for every 100 feet forward.
Until the railroad gets Track One signaled both ways, if it ever does, Track One is always eastbound, and Durfee’s picture, like mine, is looking east.
Anything on Track One is going away.
But I can’t find that Durfee photograph, although I can picture it.
I notice this train is led by Heritage-Units. The lead locomotive is 8025, the Monongahela Heritage-Unit. Trailing is 1074, the Lackawanna Heritage-Unit. Norfolk Southern bought 20 new locomotives and had them painted the schemes of predecessor railroads. 8025 is the colors of Monongahela Railway, and 1074 is Delaware, Lackawanna & Western.

8102. (Photo by Bobbalew.)

8100. (Photo by Roger Durfee©.)

The Virginian heritage-unit. (Photo by Jack Hughes.)

The Illinois-Terminal unit. (Photo by Jack Hughes.)

Norfolk Southern has others including 8102, painted the colors of Pennsylvania Railroad.
I’ve seen a few, including 8102 and 8100, Nickel Plate Railroad. I’ve also seen the Virginian and Illinois-Terminal Heritage units.
The Heritage-Units operate just like other Norfolk Southern diesels. You’re as likely to see one as regular Norfolk Southern.
The train is extremely long; it goes back clear out-of-sight.
It’s much longer than the average model-railroad train, which might max out at 30-40 cars.
Model railroads are fun, but can’t be like the real thing.
I see the train is also threading six tracks. (In fact, it looks like a seventh track was removed.)
Six tracks seems extreme, but maybe we’re approaching a yard.
I can’t see Norfolk Southern maintaining a six-track main.
Although so much crude-oil is moving by train any more, rail-capacity is being strained.



Tiger-shark! (Photo by Philip Makanna©.)


The April 2014 entry of my Ghosts WWII warbirds calendar is two Curtiss P-40 KittyHawks; one painted the shark’s-teeth scheme of General Claire Chenault’s American Volunteer Group (The Flying Tigers) in China. The other airplane, thankfully, lacks that.
I have seen those shark’s-teeth painted on far too many airplanes.
The P-40, with its gigantic radiator-scoop, is the only airplane they work on.
There was a Navy jet during the ‘70s that had a scoop up front that served as an air-intake.
They work on that.
But painting them on a Huey helicopter was a joke.
The stupidest application I’ve seen was on an L-4 Grasshopper reconnaissance plane, essentially a Piper-Cub. A Piper-Cub is hardly lethal, and those shark’s-teeth denote lethality.
It wouldn’t take much to blast a Piper-Cub out of the sky.
Those shark’s-teeth were the trademark of the Flying Tigers, and they appeared on their P-40s.
The P-40 wasn’t an extraordinary airplane. But it was for its time, just before WWII.
P-40s saw combat-duty at the outset of the war.
Better fighter-planes were developed, like the P-51 Mustang.
I’ll let my WWII warbirds site weigh in:
“The P-40 fighter/bomber was the last of the famous ‘Hawk’ line produced by Curtiss Aircraft in the ‘30s and ‘40s.
It was the third-most numerous U.S. fighter of WWII.
An early prototype version of the P-40 was the first American fighter capable of speeds greater than 300 mph.
Design work on the aircraft began in 1937, but numerous experimental versions were tested and refined before the first production version of the P-40, the Model 81, appeared in May 1940.
Early combat operations pointed to the need for more armor and self-sealing fuel tanks, which were included in the P-40B. These improvements came at price: a significant loss of performance due to the extra weight. Further armor additions and fuel tank improvements added even more weight in the P-40C.
Curtiss addressed the airplane’s mounting performance problems with the introduction of the P-40D, which was powered by a more powerful version of the Allison V-1710 engine, and had two additional wing-mounted guns. The engine change resulted in a slightly different external appearance.
Later, two more guns were added in the P-40E, and this version was used with great success (along with their mainstays, the earlier B-models) by General Claire Chenault’s American Volunteer Group (The Flying Tigers) in China.
Some additional models, each with slight improvements in engine power and armament, were the P-40F (with a 1,300 horsepower Rolls-Royce Merlin engine), the P-40G, P-40K, P-40L, P-40M and finally, the P-40N, of which 5,200 were built (more than any other version.)
While it was put to good use and was certainly numerous in most theaters of action in WWII, the P-40’s performance was quickly eclipsed by newer aircraft of the time (for example, the Mustang), and it was not considered one of the great fighters of the war.”
Years ago the local Historical-Aircraft Group in nearby Geneseo (“jen-uh-SEE-oh”) had a P-40.
But I think it had to be crash-landed. Its engine failed returning from a show.
Who knows if that P-40 is back flying. I don’t think the Historical-Aircraft Group has it any more.
That P-40 without the shark’s teeth is a rare bird. I’ve seen far too many P-40s with the shark’s teeth.
Too much of a good thing!
That closest P-40 is painted as a “Flying Tiger,” and has Chinese identification markings.



A 1972 Hurst-Oldsmobile Indy pace-car. (Photo by Peter Harholdt©.)

—The April 2014 entry in my Motorbooks Musclecar calendar is a 1972 Hurst-Olds Indy pace-car convertible.
After 1971, when a Dodge Challenger overshot the track-exit, and plowed into the press-box........
No manufacturer wanted to supply pace-cars to the Indy-500 any more.
So George Hurst, who partnered with Oldsmobile earlier to do the Hurst-Olds, independent of Oldsmobile with it 4-4-2, offered to supply a Hurst-Olds to be Indy pace-car.
So here we have a 1972 Hurst-Olds Indy pace-car.

A Hurst floor-shifter.

The main feature of a Hurst-Olds is its Hurst floor-shifter, which was better than the typical manufacturer floor-shifter.
A Hurst shifter could be slammed hard on upshift without damage.
Slam a typical manufacturer four-speed floor-shifter from second to third, and it might go wonky.
A Hurst shifter could take it.
I never liked the Hurst-Olds.
For one thing the intermediate Oldsmobile, on which this car is based, is too big.
That’s true of all musclecars. Detroit’s musclecars are all based on intermediate offerings.
And no way would I drive a car that advertises itself as an “official pace-car.”
I prefer the sleepers, the cars no one would know are musclecars.
I look at this car, and I see “your father’s Oldsmobile.” —Also something I wouldn’t be caught dead in.


N2sa Santa Fe (2-10-2) plods slowly along on the Pennsy main in 1947 across Indiana. (Photo by Tom Harley.)

—The April 2014 entry of my All-Pennsy color calendar is a Pennsy freight-train, pulled by a 2-10-2 Santa Fe engine, near Schererville, IN.
The N2sa was a Pennsy design, although mainly it was “Lines West,” west of Pittsburgh; the many merged railroads that fed the original Pennsy main in Pittsburgh.
“Lines West” didn’t have the challenges of railroading in PA.
“Lines West” locomotives tended to be more laid back, and like the average locomotive.

The Belpaire firebox on an actual N2sa.

Pennsy’s Decapod (2-10-0).

Yet the N2sa had all the hallmarks of Pennsy design: a high headlight, its number-plate centered in the smokebox door, and the square-hipped Belpaire (“BELL-pair”) firebox.
East of Pittsburgh a 10-drivered locomotive was the Decapod (2-10-0), sort of a 10-drivered Consolidation (2-8-0).
All 10-drivered locomotives have the same problem, a heavy side-rod assemblage that pounded the rail as the drive-wheels rotated.
Side-rod weight can be offset with counterweighting, but you can’t do much with a small-drivered freight locomotive.
The rotating side-rod assemblage would also heavily vibrate the locomotive-cab, and its crew. A Decapod could run 55 mph if you could stand it.
These N2sa’s were limited to 35 mph — essentially a drag-engine.
But it’s 1947, and this locomotive is still in revenue service.
Slogging a long drag-freight is what they were good for.
I happened to bring up “Schererville” in my Google satellite-views to check the spelling.
It had photographs of the “Pennsy Greenway.”
Looks like the Pennsylvania Railroad through Schererville was abandoned.
And turned into a walking-trail.
“Schererville” was very flat. It also is awash with railroads, junctions galore.
There were many pictures of grade-crossings. And from them I could do Google “street-views” paralleling railroads.
No doubt that area of Indiana was once awash with railroads headed for Chicago. Many of those railroads were abandoned.
Erie and Pennsy and Baltimore & Ohio and New York Central all had lines into Chicago, plus there were lines east out of Chicago.



Too bad it’s a pickup. (Photo by Scott Williamson.)

—The April 2014 entry of my Oxman Hotrod Calendar is a Model-A pickup extended into a crew-cab.
Except, of course, Ford didn’t build crew-cab pickups back then; not until a half-century later.
The cab had to be stretched 10 inches to make it a crew-cab.
I’ve never been enamored of pickup hotrods.
To me a pickup is a truck. A pickup hotrod is no longer a functional truck.
The roadsters and coupes are more attractive.

The nail-valve head in cross-section.

TV Tommy Ivo’s four-engine dragster. (That’s Ivo looking at his dragster.)

This hotrod has a ’57 Buick “nail-valve” V8.
The “nail-valve” wasn’t much of a hotrod engine; what makes it a hotrod is its size.
A “nail-valve” V8 couldn’t breathe very well, its valves were too small, reason for the “nail-valve” nickname.
The valves were on one side of a pent-roof combustion-chamber, so had to be small.
The exhaust-passages have to angle all over to get to the outside of the heads — which constricts breathing.
Chrysler’s Hemi (“HEM-eee;” not “HE-mee) was much better, putting the valves on both sides of the pent-roof, but the heads were much heavier.
Buick gave up on the “nail-valve.” It switched to conventional valving.
Yet TV Tommy Ivo built a four-engine dragster back in 1961 that used four Buick “nail-valve” V8s.





At least it’s a steamer. (H. Gerald MacDonald Collection©.)

—And finally.....
The April 2014 entry of my Audio-Visual Designs black-and-white All-Pennsy Calendar is not inspiring.
It’s a Pennsy K-4 Pacific (4-6-2) on a commuter-run that started at Exchange Place in Jersey City, and will end at Bay Head on Central of New Jersey’s New York & Long Branch.
Pennsy got trackage-rights on NY&LB after threatening to build a competing railroad that probably would have put NY&LB out-of-business.
The train is “The Broker,” a famous train.
All commuter railroads serving Manhattan Island are now New Jersey Transit, a government function.
Rail commuter-service became too costly.
Apparently the first cross-Hudson steam ferry-service to Manhattan was from Jersey City, from an area that became “Exchange Place.”
A railroad was built to that ferry, and Pennsy acquired it 1871.
For years Pennsy passenger-trains terminated at “Exchange Place,” until Pennsy tunneled under the Hudson farther north to attain Manhattan directly.
Other railroads terminated in north Jersey across the Hudson from Manhattan Island.
A union railroad-bridge was proposed but never built.
The only railroad to actually attain Manhattan Island from north Jersey was Pennsy. And its tunnels were restrictive. They won’t clear double-deck passenger-cars, and won’t clear freightcars.
Freight still terminated in north Jersey, and still does.
A lot was ferried at first, and some still is. But now most of it is “rubbered” — highway trucks. What used to be shipped in railroad boxcars now ships in intermodal containers, double-stacked in freight-trains, then trailered to their final destinations.
When Pennsy accessed Manhattan directly, “Exchange Place” dwindled. But it lasted a while; it was finally closed as a Pennsy station in 1962.
But it was still in use when this photo was taken in 1956.
And a lot of business was being transacted in Jersey City; so a lot of the passengers on “The Broker” may not have been from Manhattan.
The train is passing through “Hunter” in Newark. Hunter is one of the most impressive railroad facilities Pennsy built.
Hunter is just north of Newark station, and the railroad crosses the Passaic river on an impressive drawbridge.
The Newark station is also a terminus of the Hudson & Manhattan Railroad — now PATH (Port-Authority Trans-Hudson) since 1962.
Hudson & Manhattan was financed by Pennsy; it’s additional tunnels under the Hudson to Manhattan.
But it’s more a rapid-transit, not the railroad Pennsy is in its own tunnels.
In order to terminate at Newark station, Hudson & Manhattan had to build extensive bridging to bridge both Pennsy and the Passaic river.
So Pennsy through Hunter is impressive. Add overhead electrification and it becomes incredible.
Going through Hunter is mind-boggling. Your train negotiates a tunnel of wires and bridgework. (That old Pennsy line is now the Northeast Corridor.)
So here we have “The Broker” doing pretty much the same.
Trains from Exchange Place in Jersey City negotiated Hunter to get to the Pennsy main. —In fact, the line to Exchange Place was once the Pennsy main, and Pennsy’s line to its Hudson-river tunnels looks more a branch; it’s only two tracks.
Exchange Place was also a terminus for PATH. Hudson & Manhattan’s tunnels opened in 1910, and terminated under the World Trade Center, which was destroyed by terrorists in 2001.
In other words. Hudson & Manhattan accessed Manhattan Island farther south than did Pennsy, whose terminal was up at 32nd St.
The coach of a Pennsy Blue-Ribbon passenger-train to New York City is stopped at right.