Comedy of errors

Mixed manifest 35A charges west on Track Four after going under the Route 53 overpass. (Photo by Jack Hughes.)

(Or as titled by my brother: “We’re getting old, so can’t do squat!”)

—“We’re screwed,” my brother said.
We were trackside near Altoona (PA) photographing trains.
“My keys are in the ignition, and all the doors just self-locked. I’m gonna hafta call Triple-A.”
So began about two hours outside in 50-degree weather awaiting Triple-A.
“This is why I always carry both keys on long trips,” I remarked. “One operates the car, and the other remains in my pocket. If I lose a key I can still drive my car — and it’s happened.”
Also since it’s a Ford it has that little driver-door keypad, so I can key in the code if I lock my key in the car. I keep that code in my wallet, so I don’t hafta cellphone my dealer — which I had to do once.
Finally, after perhaps an hour wrastling with Triple-A, then waiting an additional hour: “Didn’t you bail me out before?” my brother asked. “That was a dead battery.”
It was a guy from a Cresson car-emporium.
This was after at least 20 minutes trying the finesse Triple-A Emergency-Service — perhaps a nationwide contact.
She kept doing “Cresson” as “Crescent.” At least it was my brother doing the calling. He doesn’t have post-stroke aphasia, which for me is is only slight, but makes phonecalls messy.
“We’re fifth in line,” my brother observed. I guess service-emergencies were piling up.
“Your call is important to us. Please continue holding.”
BOOM-CHICKA, BOOM-CHICKA, BOOM-CHICKA, BOOM!
“Didja get the train?” the service-guy asked.
“How many lockouts per week?” my brother asked.
“At least one per week; and nearly all railfans. Where would I be without railfans?”
“And self-locking doors,” my brother added.

Westbound stacker 25Z, already on The Hill, approaches Brickyard Crossing. (Photo by Jack Hughes.)

—My brother drove from Boston to Altoona Wednesday, me Thursday, per usual. It takes him nine hours, me five. He can chase trains while I’m driving down.
His first stop was Brickyard Crossing in Altoona, location of a brickyard now defunct. Railfans and railroaders still call it “Brickyard Crossing,” although it’s little-travelled Porta Road. Brickyard is the only grade-crossing in Altoona.
My brother visited other locations, mainly looking for Fall color. “It’s better up the mountain,” he kept saying. But it needed another week. It was “peak” here and there, but Horseshoe Curve was too early.

Westbound trash-extra 63V on Track Two passes eastbound crude-oil extra 68K. (Photo by Jack Hughes.)

—He went next to 17th Street overpass. East-west 17th Street is the main access to Altoona from Interstate-99.
When I first visited Altoona in 1968, I-99 didn’t exist. In 1968 getting around Altoona was challenging. I also remember a Sylvania tube factory. No idea what happened to that. (Per Google it went defunct.)
17th Street is one of many east-west streets in Altoona. It goes direct into downtown Altoona, and crosses the railroad on a gigantic four-lane overpass.
There may have been railroad yards south of 17th Street, but there aren’t now. Alto Tower is right next to 17th Street, but is now closed. Alto was the last tower on the railroad, and only closed recently.
Helper locomotives were added in the area. Altoona is at the base of Allegheny Mountain. Now helpers get added east of Altoona. Helpers that ran through from the west, that added braking down The Hill, often get cut away on-the-fly in Altoona.
63V has passed Altoona’s Amtrak station on Track Two. (Amtrak always uses Two; both ways, since it detrains onto the station platform.)
Altoona is no longer what it was. Railroading isn’t either, as evermore freight gravitates to trucking. What yard-tracks remain get filled with unit coal-trains.
Double-stacked van containers go right through, as does unit crude-oil, and also auto-racks. Trailer-on-flatcar also goes right through, although Altoona’s Rose Yard is a crew-change point.
Just a few years ago Altoona was a division-point. Now the entire railroad, Pittsburgh to Harrisburg, is dispatched by one person in Pittsburgh.

A helper-set descends the mountain through Bennington Curve, headed for Altoona. No train. (Photo by Jack Hughes.)

—Friday was better weather-wise, but began clouding up — what weather-guys call “partly-cloudy.” We hoped a cloud might not block the sun when a train appeared.
Even old Pennsy signals are being removed, as Positive-Train-Control and in-the-cab signaling take over.
Chasing trains is no longer fun. Used to be train-engineers had to report on railroad-radio the aspect of every wayside signal they passed. My brother and I monitored that on our radio scanners.
It seems those call-outs cut back to only interlockings, “MO,” “UN,” “AR,” etc. We still have our scanners, so hear that, plus the defect-detectors.
That’s how we knew a train was around. We’re in Altoona and hear “14G, east on One, MO, CLEAR!” That’s 12-15 miles away. Maybe 30-40 minutes from us.
With signal call-outs we might be 5-10 minutes away. We could quickly change direction driving.
Even the defect-detectors are reduced. 253.1 is the one we heard, and that’s Carneys. That’s on the west side of the mountain. If we’re on the east side we could wait an hour. Detectors we previously heard were gone.
So now it was just my brother and me. Our first location was Bennington curve atop the mountain where Pennsy’s prestigious Red Arrow overnight passenger-train from Detroit wrecked in 1947 killing 22. (Wreck of the Red Arrow.)
Supposedly brakes failed descending The Slide atop the mountain, or the crew was asleep. The train was going too fast for Bennington Curve, and derailed down an embankment.
Norfolk Southern’s access-road was unlocked, but drifting clouds kept ruining our photographs.
That helper-set was our only shot in unblocked sunlight. Probably valley-fog on the west side of the mountain was breaking up and drifting over the mountain-top. The clouds looked wispy, but blocked the sun over a small area — usually about locomotive size.

Westbound stacker 25V on Track Three approaches Carney’s Crossing. (Photo by Jack Hughes.)

—Things are messy here. —I don’t know where we went next.
We may have hit 24th Street overpass before Carney’s, a grade-crossing railroad-west of Cresson.
Carney’s was our most successful photo-stop, but it’s also where our car locked us out.
Perhaps four trains passed while we awaited Triple-A.
We may have also tried Brickyard, but nothing appeared. This is the way it is any more: train-chasing no longer is fun, with the coming of in-the-cab signaling and Positive-Train-Control. Chasing trains has become sit-and-wait. Fortunately the railroad is busy enough you’ll usually get something. It’s still a main trade artery with the midwest.

Eastbound stacker 22W on Track Two approaches 24th Street overpass. (Photo by Jack Hughes.)

—We visited 24th Street overpass, perhaps again, but the first time by me. My brother may have visited 24th Street overpass the day before. And we may have visited before Carney’s.
It’s one of four overpasses in Altoona, but residential. 24th Street is in a residential neighborhood; the other three are urban. It takes advantage of a rocky cut through which the railroad passes, that leaps the street over the railroad.
24th Street overpass isn’t very photogenic, but it’s where the railroad starts up Allegheny Mountain. The overpass is over Pennsy’s old Slope interlocking, Altoona’s yard entrance.
22W on track Two is pretty good approaching the overpass from the west. But it’s backlit, and has that increase in grade beyond the signal bridge I don’t like.
Looking east a photographer has to use holes cut through one-inch chain-link mesh. Your views are limited to those holes.

Tiny local CB10 (only two cars — it probably took out many more) returns to Altoona from Cove Secondary past 23Z westbound on Track Two. (Photo by BobbaLew.)

—Altoona has two pedestrian overpasses over the railroad. One is covered, and has elevators at each end. It’s visible in the photo. Vagrants call it “the elevator bridge.”
Both go to the Railroaders Memorial Museum, which is on the other side of the railroad from Altoona’s downtown.
The second overpass, the one we were on, is uncovered, and only has staircases at each end. It’s next to Altoona’s huge post-office building.
Both overpasses have to be high enough to clear doublestacks, which are around 24 feet. That’s three long staircases to get up to the uncovered overpass. It’s a climb, but the old geezer can do it — as long as I have a handrail.
It’s also an excellent photo; since it takes in Altoona’s urban setting.
Railroaders Memorial Museum because Altoona was once Pennsy’s main shop-town, and locus of operations. Years ago locomotives were built and tested there.
Now the railroad is Norfolk Southern, which bought most of the old Pennsy when Conrail broke up and sold in 1999.
We heard both CB10 and 23Z on our scanners. Would we get a double = two trains at once?
CB10 poked slowly into Altoona’s yard, but it had only two cars. Cove Secondary is the original Pennsy main (1844 or so) to PA’s portage railroad. It never was removed, and now accesses Everett Railroad, a shortline that operates the old Pennsy branches out of Hollidaysburg.
CB10 creeped toward us, yet here came 23Z westbound. My brother got 23Z as it approached the overpass, and I waited across the overpass hoping to get both CB10 and 23Z.
That uncovered overpass is where my brother committed his final faux pas. (Another was running out his memory-chip. We Siried a photo-supply in Altoona. That was the old-geezer = me.)
Photos taken, we descended the steps, and walked back to our car.
“Where’s my phone?” Back up the steps went my brother, an arduous climb for a 62-year-old. It least it wasn’t me (although I coulda done it).
There was his phone, right where he left it, atop a railing-pylon up on the overpass.

Eastbound empty trash-extra 60V climbs The Hill through Cresson. (Photo by Jack Hughes.)

—Next we tried west of Cresson, knowing loaded coal-hoppers were on the Cresson runner, awaiting moving out onto the main. They might block our view of the main.
The hoppers had been brought in by Corman, from the old Pennsy branches operated by them.
Those branches are now a Corman shortline to local coal loadouts, plus a giant ethanal plant up in Clearfield.
Norfolk Southern delivers unit grain for the ethanol plant to that Cresson runner, and takes out the empty grain-hoppers. I guess it also pulls out coal delivered by Corman.
Pennsy used to have a jump-over to those branches, but that is gone. Other jump-overs were at other locations, so the main wouldn’t be blocked.
We could walk past the hoppers to view the mainline, and here came the trash-extra.

—Our final stop, although 60V at the Cresson runner may have been our final stop, was atop what my Altoona railfan friend calls “High-Bridge.” It’s the PA State-Route 53 bridge over the old Pennsy right-of-way, which at that point is five tracks wide.
So I call it “five-tracks.” (My brother is always whacked-out by a five-track right-of-way.)
In October days are short. The sun goes quickly lower, so shadows lengthen across the tracks. It’s where my brother got that lede picture, 35A charging west on Track Four.
Rightmost are Tracks Three and Four, on the original Pennsy right-of-way. They go through Pennsy’s original Allegheny Tunnel in Gallitzin as Two and Three. Three in Gallitzin is (or was) usually westbound, and Two is/was signaled either way. At “High-Bridge” Four is/was usually westbound, and Three is/was signaled either way.
Left-most is a storage-siding for coal-trains to be forwarded over the mountain. Tracks One and Two are in the middle. One and Two plus that siding are on the right-of-way of New Portage Railroad, and aim at “New Portage Tunnel.”
Two and One become Track One at Pennsy’s long-abandoned AR tower. That tower still stands, as does MG, a tower built during WWII about halfway up the mountain. There was an interlocking (crossovers), which still is there, but it’s switched by Pittsburgh. The merge at AR is also switched by Pittsburgh.
New Portage Tunnel is higher than Pennsy’s Allegheny Tunnel, and requires additional climbing. The west-slope grade is steepest at this point. On the east slope Track One has to go down a ramp known as “The Slide.” It’s 2.28% to reattain the original Pennsy grade, which is around 1.75%.
My brother’s picture will probably be my October Fall-foliage shot in my calendar. It’s pretty good.
We hafta run back-and-forth across the bridge which is 55 mph highway.
Shadows were falling across the tracks looking east toward the mountain-top. But the sun was still blasting the yellow trees behind Track Four looking west.
So it goes, or went. We can photograph until maybe 4 p.m. in October.

No tragedies. I did get a cold waiting for Triple-A. Plus I did fall once at our motor-lodge on stairs with a left-hand railing. I was trying to use my unoccupied right hand on that left-hand railing. Stupid for a geezer with wonky balance.
Never again!

• “The Hill” is what railroaders call Allegheny Mountain. Long ago it was the barrier to trade with the midwest.
• RE: With “braking down The Hill” helper-locomotives turn their traction-motors into generators, and dispose of the current generated in large toaster-grids atop the locomotive. It’s called Dynamic braking.
• “MO,” “UN,” “AR,” etc. are the telegraph call-letters of old towers once at the interlockings; interlockings being crossovers, switch turnouts, whatever. Everything is “interlocked” so trains won’t crash into each other.
• Trackside “defect-detectors” replaced human monitoring in the caboose, which is why cabooses are gone. Defect-detectors sense hot wheels, dragging equipment, etc., then transmit on railroad-radio if a defect is detected: “Stop your train!” 253.1 is the detector at milepost 253.1: Carney’s Crossing. There used to be detectors at milepost 238.8: Brickyard., and 258.8 in Portage.
• “The Slide” is a ramp built by Pennsy to get up to New Portage Tunnel, dug but abandoned when the state gave up on its Public Works System, a combination canal/portage railroad meant to compete with NY’s Erie Canal. New Portage Railroad, and its tunnel, were built to circumvent the original portage railroad over Allegheny Mountain, which had inclined planes. Pennsy got New Portage because it needed another tunnel atop the mountain.
• “Siri” (sear-eee) is Apple’s iPhone assistant. It works via voice-recognition. I don’t use it much (“call Jack”), but used it a while ago to find a Taco-Bell in Altoona. “I need a photo-supply in Altoona.” I asked it that after my brother said “I wonder if Rite-Aid (drug store) sells photo-chips?”

“Cresson down”

—Railstream’s webcam from Station-Inn in Cresson (PA) wasn’t working.
Railstream has lots of other rail-cams, and I may be only one of a few watching Cresson.
It’s not photogenic, but it does display Norfolk Southern’s mainline toward Allegheny Mountain.
It’s the old Pennsy, and is still a main east-west trading artery.
A lot of trains pass that webcam. It’s interesting because that old Pennsy main through the Altoona area is where my brother and I photograph trains. Cresson is near Altoona.
Train-frequency is phenomenal. Wait 15-25 minutes and you see a train. (Although often there’s down time to allow track work.)
And conquering Allegheny Mountain requires Run-Eight railroading. Run-Eight is full fuel delivery to a diesel locomotive. (Diesel engines aren’t throttled.)
That’s assault-the-heavens!
For those not savvy, a webcam streams video over the Internet. I view trains passing Station-Inn on my home computer.
“Sounds like 07T,” Amtrak’s westbound Pennsylvanian, about 6 p.m.
Rhumba-rhumba-rhumba-rhumba! Followed by only six cars.
Nothing else sounds like Amtrak. Freights might be 100 cars or more.
There are only two passenger-trains per day: Amtrak’s Pennsylvanians, eastbound and westbound. There used to be many.
Freight-trains are constant. Long unit-trains of grain, coal, or crude-oil. Also all auto-racks. Plus long freights with double-stacked shipping containers.
The Cresson webcam gets everything. Blatting Harleys and throaty diesel pickups on the street out front. Plus girlfriends screaming epithets at loathsome lotharios.
“We don’t control the Internet,” a Railstream contact told me. Getting Cresson back required contacting Station Inn to put that webcam back online.
With Cresson down I switched to another Railstream feed, Berea, OH.
Berea was where railroading from the east connected to various destinations to the west, mainly Chicago or St. Louis.
Right now it’s two railroad mainlines very close to each other, CSX and Norfolk Southern. Plus two connectors so CSX trains can access Norfolk Southern, or NS access CSX.
Years ago Berea was a main junction, all New York Central I think. A train from New York City might diverge for Indianapolis and St. Louis. Trains from the southeast could switch over to what is now Norfolk Southern’s Chicago line to access Toledo or Chicago.
Berea was very important, and I watch both east and west (a dual feed). Nearest is CSX, and it’s good for 60-80 mph. Trains boom-and-zoom.
Across the way is Norfolk Southern’s Chicago line, but apparently it’s not 60-80 mph railroad. The fastest I’ve seen is 40-50 mph.
Berea is just west of Cleveland.
“How can I tell it’s even on?” I asked my Railstream contact. No noisy Harleys or slatterns yelling F-bombs. Or that church bell in Cresson, or the fire siren.
That Cresson webcam is not photogenic. But it’s interesting to a railfan like me. There are other streaming railcams on YouTube, but I prefer the Cresson webcam.

It’s BA-A-A-A-ACK!

The e-mail I won’t send........

......because it’s too verbose, common to us word-geeks.

—“With hopes you read this, since......
-A) The time needed to say all this poolside is unavailable, since you’re an instructor.
-B) My ability to communicate face-to-face is always compromised by post-stroke aphasia.
(You, like ******, will insist I talk just fine. But my kid brothers hear it.)
My tipsiness being as bad as it was, has me thinking you were premature switching me to your aquatic balance-training class. And it’s not dizziness. It’s no longer having the steadiness on my feet I had years ago.
I also think it’s too bad I didn’t try that dry-land hospital physical-therapy first.
Apparently you guys, and that hospital physical-therapy, think ‘improving balance’ means to get better at avoiding falls = counter tipsiness. That tipsiness degraded quite a bit more since I started.
On the other hand I mistakenly thought ‘improving balance’ meant returning to the lack of tipsiness I had years ago.
That hospital physical-therapy says my tipsiness came with advancing age, plus the neuropathy I have.
The hospital says they can’t reverse that. All they can do is make me better able to counter it.
Essentially all I do in your pool is try to walk without staggering. A while ago one of your helpers yelled at me to not stagger — as if I had any choice.
A lot of what I do in your pool is march and straight-leg kick. Both require balancing on one leg. I march at home too.
To my mind my tipsiness has worsened. What got vastly better is my ability to counter tipsiness.
I hardly fall any more, and never because of tipsiness. When I do fall it’s because of stumbling or turning my ankle.
That hospital PT, and you perhaps, seem obsessed with preventing falls. I got that a lot in that hospital PT when I had my knee replaced.
Sorry I made the mistake of thinking your aquatic balance-training class would bring back the stability I had years ago.

Aside from that, you can smile at me all you want, and I hope you continue to do so. But never again will I fall for that.
That’s my childhood of course: ‘NO PRETTY LADY WILL SMILE AT YOU!’ And there you were, smiling at me.
Others smile at me too. My first girlfriend (1962) was also an easy smiler. A cute young Physical Therapist at the hospital does that too.
70 years late, and at your expense, I discover I’m always a sucker for easy smilers.
Same thing with *****. ‘NO PRETTY GIRL WILL TALK TO YOU!’ Yet ***** said hello to me. It wasn’t me saying hello to her, it was ***** saying hello to me. (“You talkin’ a-me?”)
I was dumbfounded. I never expected such a thing after the childhood I had.
A lot has changed since my beloved wife died; and 70 years late.
You may have noticed I can look you straight-in-the-eye. 10 years ago I couldna. (Couldn’t with my wife either, which I regret.)
A few weeks ago a beautiful young blond struck up a conversation with me. I cried afterward; 10 years ago I woulda run away.
Just the other day I suggested a younger lady divorcee join us bereavers on our weekly eat-out. 10 years ago I woulda never considered such a thing.
My Sunday-School Superintendent neighbor and parents were WRONG!”

• “NO PRETTY LADY WILL SMILE AT/TALK TO YOU!” was my immediate neighbor and Sunday-School Superintendent Hilda Walton when I was a child. Like my parents she was hyper-religious. She convinced me all males, including me at age-5, were SCUM. My parents heartily agreed.
• I had a stroke October 26th, 1993 from an undiagnosed heart-defect since repaired. I pretty much recovered. Just tiny detriments; I can pass for never having had a stroke. It slightly compromised my speech. (Difficulty finding and putting words together = classic Aphasia.)
• For 2-3 years or more I did aquatic balance training in the Canandaigua YMCA’s swimming-pool. I dropped out for the moment so I could try dry-land balance-training at a hospital Physical-Therapy. I continue to use the pool on-my-own.
• I’ve been diagnosed with neuropathy, poor nerve communication down my legs to my feet. It isn’t diabetic neuropathy.
• So far only my left knee was replaced. My right knee is still the one I was born with.
• ***** is a lifeguard at the Canandaigua YMCA swimming-pool.
• My wife died of cancer April 17th, 2012.
• Once per week for years I’ve been eating out with fellow widows and widowers.

“Girls are still girls”

—“It wasn't that many centuries ago that postage stamps were NOT self-adhesive, life was slower, and girls were still girls.” (My underlining.)
That was an old college-friend who graduated the same year as me — 1966.
He was bewailing the fact we’re getting old — we’re both 75. He finds it hard to keep up with quickly changing technology.
His saying “girls were still girls” sparked my attention.
In my humble opinion girls still are girls. Even in slacks they still look like girls. And they’re much more pleasant to interact with than men.
I find this out 70 years late. Yrs Trly is a graduate of the Hilda Q. Walton School of Gender Relations. “NO PRETTY GIRL WILL TALK TO/SMILE AT/BE INTERESTED IN YOU!”
Constant-readers won’t need explanation. Otherwise see footnote below.
My beloved wife died 7&1/2 years ago. Since then, much to the angry chagrin of Hilda and my Bible-beating parents, I find women are fun. I’m not automatically perceived as scum.
Before my wife died I pretty much kept to myself. “NO ONE WILL TALK TO YOU!”
Suddenly I find striking up conversations is fun. But women are more fun than men. Ladies don’t pull that macho bit on you.
I have no idea how women were in the prior century. But they sure are fun now!
Sorry, I find ladies much more attractive than men. And that’s not just physically.
I love hangin’ out with ladies. Shoot-the-breeze, make ‘em laugh, etc.
Hilda and my parents spin in their graves.

• Hilda Q. Walton was my immediate neighbor and Sunday-School Superintendent when I was a child. Like my parents she was hyper-religious. She convinced me all males, including me at age-5, were SCUM. My parents heartily agreed.
• The “Q” stood for Quincy.

Somewhat a vegetarian

—“No chicken or turkey should have to sacrifice its life just so I can eat!”
I said that to a lady lifeguard friend at the Canandaigua YMCA swimming-pool, and it went over like a lead balloon.
“I still east fish,” I added. “But I’ve become somewhat vegetarian.”
I no longer enjoy other meats. Hot-dogs yes, but with vegetarian baked-beans — no bacon.
I’ve been eating out one night per week with other bereavers. Most are widows, but one is a widower.
We haven’t been able to do so for a couple weeks. One widow went to Lake Tahoe, and one has family obligations, etc.
I had to stay home the other night, but wasn’t interested in another fish-meal.
I coulda bought two grilled-chicken snack-wraps from Mickey-D’s, but didn’t want chicken. It’s not so much that first rule, although it factors.
Most nights are cook-my-own meals, and often include a veggie substitute instead of real meat. Fish is twice a week. When we eat out I generally get something cheese-based, or pasta.
Some of my meals are from the supermarket. They have a deli section. They also sell store-made soups. I especially like their vegetarian lentil chili, which is more a soup.
Recently they didn’t have that lentil chili. I had to buy turkey chili.
Ugh! Too salty. It was only bearable. And of course turkey is not what I wanted. “No turkey should have to sacrifice its life,” etc.
Worse yet is beef chili. I have one in my freezer, but don’t look forward to eating it.
My widower friend likes red meat, but I haven’t eaten red meat in years. “No cow should have to sacrifice its life,” etc.
I’ve tried veggie-burgers; they were okay, more or less. Pasta or a grilled-cheese sandwich woulda been preferable. What, pray tell, was added to that veggie-burger to make it beef-like?
So what to do the other night. I had a small portion of turkey-breast in my freezer, and was gonna shred that into tomato-sauce. But “No turkey should have to sacrifice its life,” etc.
So I looked for something else in another supermarket deli, and bought a pasta-based salad.
Back into my freezer went the tomato-sauce. I’ve had that turkey for months, and never know when I’ll eat it.
I might end up throwing it out; which contradicts the way I was brought up: “Little children are starving in China. You better eat them Brussel sprouts!”
I like being friends with that lifeguard-lady. But obviously we’re just pool friends.
I’d be too hard to live with; e.g. the way I eat.
My wife’s brother once noted my penchant for order-out-of-chaos. My dishes get put away just so. —He dared not disturb my order.
That lifeguard is a great friend, but only at the Canandaigua YMCA swimming-pool. Step outside and we’re worlds apart.

• For 2-3 years or more I did aquatic balance training in the Canandaigua YMCA’s swimming-pool. I dropped out for the moment so I could try dry-land balance-training at a hospital Physical-Therapy. I continue to use the pool on-my-own.
• “Mickey-D’s” is McDonald’s.
• My beloved wife, who died over seven years ago, had only one other sibling, her brother, who was two years older. He’s still alive, and comes to visit occasionally — staying in my house. He lives in south FL.

Mighty Rockville

Mighty Rockville. (Photo by Dave Augsberger.)

(Another case of not being able to publish last month. Written but no time to key in.)

—The September 2019 entry in my All-Pennsy color calendar is a Pennsy freight coming off the west end of Rockville Bridge over the Susquehanna River.
Leading is an EMD GP-9, trailed by an EMD B-unit version of its F-unit cab-unit freight diesel. (It looks like an F-7.)
The main reason the Pennsylvania Railroad was built was because PA’s Public-Works System was so cumbersome and time-consuming.
Public-Works was an early 19th-century response to the phenomenal success of NY’s Erie Canal, also a state effort.
NY’s Erie Canal was skonking all other east-coast seaports, like Boston, Philadelphia, and Baltimore. Baltimore’s response was the Baltimore & Ohio Railroad, our nation’s first common-carrier railroad. Opened to get Baltimore to the Ohio River — the midwest.
It could be said the Erie Canal was the main reason New York City became our nation’s premier ocean port. That canal also opened up trade with the midwest.
PA had impediments NY state didn’t have: mainly the Allegheny front, and also the Susquehanna River.
Public Works also wasn’t continuous like the Erie Canal. It took advantage of railroad already built from Philadelphia to the Susquehanna River. Then it canaled west, but had to portage over Allegheny Mountain, which couldn’t be canaled.
Plus the portage railroad over Allegheny Mountain had to use inclined planes. Grading and tunneling at that time were rudimentary.
Freight over Public Works had to be transloaded at least three times.
Small canal packets got loaded onto railroad flatcars for winching up and down the inclined planes.
Capitalists in Philadelphia were so upset with Public Works they founded a private common-carrier railroad = the Pennsylvania Railroad.
The challenge was immense. Philadelphia-to-Pittsburgh faced two natural barriers: Allegheny Mountain and the Susquehanna River. Much of the way could follow the Public Works canal-system, which used various mountain passes.
But Allegheny Mountain had no easy passes. It had been the barrier to east-west trade, which had to be done by packhorse.
John Edgar Thomson was brought back from GA to engineer continuous railroad across PA. (He had done railroads in the Philadelphia area.)
He followed prior experience, locating in valleys where there would be traffic. Then he used helper-locomotives to conquer Allegheny Mountain.
His route is still used. He also took advantage of a valley to loop the railroad, thereby easing the grade over Allegheny Mountain. That’s world-famous Horseshoe Curve.
He then merged railroads from the midwest to feed his railroad at Pittsburgh. Pennsy became immensely successful, becoming a main trading conduit between the east-coast megalopolis and the midwest.
Pennsy no longer exists. Long story: Penn-Central, then Conrail, now Norfolk Southern.
Getting a railroad from Harrisburg to Pittsburgh involved two major obstacles. Most challenging was the Allegheny Front. But there also was the Susquehanna River.
The Susquehanna is wide and shallow. It’s not navigable— which made bridging it fairly easy. A bridge didn’t need to be high enough to clear ships. Approach grading could be minimal.
But the Susquehanna is extremely wide. Rockville is 3,820 feet long, but bridge-piers can be on the river-bottom.
The first bridge was wood, and single-track I think. It quickly became a bottleneck as Pennsy became a trade-conduit.
The second bridge was iron, and double-track. But it too became a bottleneck, as evermore trade flowed over Pennsy.
By the end of the 19th century it became apparent more capacity was needed at that river-crossing.
Behold, Mighty Rockville, wide enough for four tracks (52 feet), and built with stone. 48 continuous 70-foot arches. I’ve seen it myself, and crossed it by train once.
Every time I see it I think “it would take a direct hit from a thermonuclear warhead to take out Mighty Rockville.”
It survived numerous floods and high water. But part of one arch-pillar washed out once,
Rockville opened in 1902, and is still in use. Who knows how many bridges across the Susquehanna came and went during its tenure. An interstate highway bridge is nearby, and in fact they considered building atop Mighty Rockville.
Thankfully they didn’t, but I bet in 100 years Mighty Rockville is still there, but that interstate highway bridge had to be replaced at least once, if not twice.
And Mighty Rockville is no longer four tracks, but it’s still wide enough for four.
And private capital built it, not the gumint (i.e. taxpayers).
Even Mighty Rockville got surpassed, but mainly because yarding in Harrisburg became constrained. Pennsy built up Enola yard across the river from Harrisburg, and it became a destination for freight to and from the midwest.
Freight-lines east of Enola were electrified; so Enola became a locomotive change. (Those railroad-lines are no longer electrified.)

• “Penn-Central” was a merger of Pennsy and arch-rival New York Central Railroad in 1968; although it also included New York, New Haven & Hartford (New Haven), per the gumint. New York Central was the other east-west trading conduit. Penn-Central went bankrupt in 1971.
• “Conrail” was our gumint’s response to the bankruptcy of many northeast railroads, primarily Penn-Central. Conrail was gumint at first, but eventually privatized. It was broken up and sold in 1999 to CSX Transportation and Norfolk Southern.
• “Thermonuclear warhead” = H-bomb.