Well, I know theres a few People here that work for the railroad, so tell us your stories. Ile start. About a week ago, my father had gone out on a call to seattle, manifest frieght, and as he finally gets permission from BNSF disspatch, he starts off towards Tacoma. They bring the train up to about 45mph, and start nearing a siding for a red. When they get the go ahead, they recieve a call from the frieght ahead of them that a very suspicious guy has been seen wondering in and around a tunnel, with a backpack. My father's train reaches the tunnel which is located within about 200 feet of a bar, and they bring the train to aout 10-15 mph as to not hurt anyone. The engineer releases the air valve for the bell to make the presence of the train known to whom ever. As they get close to the end of the tunnel, the see daylight, and then notice a guy wobbling around on the tracks......piss drunk. The engineer does what he needs to, blows the horn gently, and brings the train to a very slow crawl as to not run the guy over. when he blew the horn how ever, the guy panicked and ran out of the tunnel and up the side of the bank. My dad went out to the front porch to watch him. They clear just fine and get back up to speed. About 15 or 30 mins later the frieght behind him calls dispatch. Their train was comming up to the bar, when they noticed a man laying on the tracks, obviously drunk. They noticed him at almost 50 mph. The conducter, very freaked out, mentions that he will never forget the sound it just made as the skull of the man made contact of the plow on the front of the locomotive at that high of speed. the train was immediatly put into Emergency, and the conducter had to seperate the train where the body lay mutilated. They still have not found the head. I know this sounds nasty, but its what happened. This really shakes me up as it could have been my dad, or myself running that train.
Those things happen Daylight-Boy, and just little to nothing we can do unless as in your Dad's case, we can be warned ahead of time enough to avoid it. Friends have sent me some photos of mangled runaway girls, and guys who have been cut in two by their own actions trying to play "Hobo". Some engineers get sick and carry a burden of guilt for a long time after someone gets run over, while other engineers get jaded to it after awhile. We had a guy killed just this afternoon by a Union Pacific freight running a legal 50. The media made it sound like it was the train's fault because the bad old train didn't simply go around the guy or jump over him. Its comments like that attitude that cause us to not care too much. It is the little kids sitting helpless in the car seats that an engineer can't take. It makes you want to run up to the car and stomp the driver into dog vomit! I guess it is how you look at it. Once you have been trained to look a guy in the eye while you have a bead on him right between his eyes, and squeeze of a round, then finish your K-ration, it is not too different to see that "deer in the headlights" look on a driver's face knowing you will be his last look at life on this earth. Yeah, I'll admit I have lost sympathy for the people who would rather die than wait for a train to pass. They made that decision, so when they lose, why should I feel sorry for them? The only ones I feel sorry for are their passengers, and the engine crews that take the blame on themselves. I learned one thing that did save a lady's life years ago while sitting in my car at a stop light one icy afternoon. When a guy honked at me, I glanced up and realized my car had coasted out into the intersection while I had my foot on the brake! My front wheels had stopped me OK, but the automatic transmission had continued to try to keep the car going, so had slowly skidded the front wheels on the ice! Ever since then, I always select Park or Neutral when stopped at a light, or Railroad Crossing, its habit now. You know we are supposed to blow two longs, a short toot, and another long whistle blast holding it until we cross over a grade (road) crossing? Well, back during WW II this lady pulled up and stopped short enough of the wig-waging cross-bucks to have cleared the engine, but she was on a little down hill slope. As she was adjusting her hair in her mirror, we were approaching her crossing at 45 and had blown the two longs, and as I pulled the whistle cord to make the short toot, I noticed her car was rolling down onto the first rail, and I instinctively started pumping the whistle cord sounding Boop! Boop! Boop! in rapid short blasts, and it got her attention enough for her to look up, (since that was not the usual sound she would have expected to hear). She had been holding the car stopped with a foot on the brake pedal, and got distracted just enough that the idling engine had started pulling the car forward smoothly enough that she didn't notice it rolling onto our track! She was able to back up just in time enough to clear the engine as we went by with all wheels locked up! I had even pulled the Johnson bar into full reverse too! But when you have 7 box cars loaded with compressed bales of cotton pushing you down a 1% grade, you are not going to stop before you hit her car! It was a good thing we were on straight track and all the cars were already bunched against the engine, or we might have derailed anyway. We didn't slide but about 300 feet, so no real harm was done. I caught hell from the conductor for not maintaining the required long blast across the road, and spinning my drivers, but he admitted I had done some quick thinking, so he didn't write me up. Several years ago we had a Topic, "Tales From the Cab" that may still be in the Archives somewhere. I tried "Search", but it has never worked for me, so I can not post a link to it now. There were quite a number of tales told back then that you might enjoy. Maybe someone can find it for you. [ September 19, 2005, 03:11 AM: Message edited by: watash ]
I'll tell one that isn't gruesome, although I do have a gruesome one to tell. I was working as rear collector(brakeman/flagman)on an afternoon commuter train job(METRA/BNSF). it was our last EB run and we had just pulled into the Riverside IL station. I noticed a couple of people at the far west end of the platform. I am in the second west car(that's the second car ahead of the engine on the BNSF)It is the car car equipped with the handicapped lift equipment. As I step down to the platform,as is required, I look to the west and see a bright blue laser type light giving me the horizontal lantern signal for "When standing, apply brakes". I wonder what is going on so I give the head-end a "washout" so I could inspect. In the dark, I notice these two persons who gave me the signal,step off the platform and start walking on the ROW toward the engine. Now I am curious!! who and why is someone giving me a signal to apply brakes. I start walking toward them and I hailed them as I was walking. I thought perhaps it might be officials wanting to ride up in the locomotive cab, but I was going to find out who they were. When I hailed them, they stopped and came back to me, by this time I had reached the end of the platform. Well it seems that it was a couple of the local yokels who hang around the the depot and bum smokes,money and drinks from the passengers. These two rocket scientists told me that someone had told THEM that the signal they gave indicated that they did not want to board the train and apparently if we were to see that signal, we didn't have to stop. Needless to say, we stop at all the scheduled stations whether or not we have boarding or alighting passengers. I strongly counselled these two geniuses to NEVER give a signal to a train unless it was an emergency and DO NOT walk on the railroad right of way. Its amazing what warm summer weather and some booze will do to people!!! CT
Got another 'un fer ya! I was working the Conductors East Pool extra board out of Galesburg for a few months in early 1998. I got called to pick up a train at the interchange with Conrail at Streator IL. We were vanned to the interchange and the van then took the Conrail crew who was waiting for us. There is/was a trailer waiting shed for the crews, the Conrail crew told me that they had several open doors on the train. When I inspected the train, I found an even dozen cars (loads) with open doors. Some of the cars were plug door box cars and by rule we cannot move the train with open plug doors AND by rule, operating crews are not allowed to close them. Just to keep things even-handed, I asked my very young hogger if he had any ideas about what to do. He thought I should close the doors and we could get moving. That was not a correct answer so I called Conrail operations and the told me they would have a carman on his way ASAP. Well, it took about an 1 1/2 hours for him to get there and I went with him in his truck to identify the open doors. As we were in the process of closing the doors(all except one car were filled with scrap paper) the one car that was most interesting was a carload of beer (Budweiser). Upon close inspection of that car, I noticed that the thieves had opened a full case of long neck bottles, drank them all, put the bottles neatly back in the case , reclosed it and left it in the car. Cheeky devils they! I reported my findings and the car numbers to the Special Agent upon my arrival in Galesburg. All in a days work! CT
Story from an Espee (now UP) engineer, from about 4-5 years ago. He was switching San Antonio industrial sidings about 2 am in the morning with two SD40-2s. There was a teenager curled up, sleeping between the tracks so that my engineer friend didn't see him. Right as the lead engine got there, the guy jumped up and the engine went over him. Speed was slow, like 15-20 mph. The conductor (brakeman?) told my friend to follow him, the conductor, because my buddy had not seen one of these and it was not going to be pretty to count the body parts. They make the phone calls, climb down off the cab, and no body! No one anywhere! What happened? He said that they clearly hit the teenager. Then, they heard a moan. The conductor found the teenager wedged between the rear of the front truck and the fuel tank! The engine had passed completely over him!! The teenager crawled out and had a few scratches and bruises. He seemed okay, then he ran off. My buddy said he was mad and scared at the same time. Never did get to tell the guy not to sleep between the tracks anymore. [ September 21, 2005, 09:12 PM: Message edited by: sapacif ]
Here's one that I posted somewhere in here a couple of years ago, but I can't find the tread so I'll post it again. I have another file, somewhere that I have to locate. Hope you enjoy this one though: The Golden Age of Steam I have always been, since a very early age, facinated by the sights and sounds of steam locomotives. I am not a train nut per se, but admittedly I have a deep passion for the texture and smell of hot, oily steam. I can remember sultry summer nights, returning from my grandparents house, my father driving on a highway with a railroad track that ran along side; and often seeing a train with a large steam locomotive .. sometimes with two or more on the front, and with one or more pushing near the rear. I can vividly recall a bright flickering glow observed under the locomotives between the wheels, and under the cab, sometimes flashing as bright as fireworks. I was always curious to know what caused that glow. There was a railroad track that ran down the middle of the street on a raised, unpaved island where I lived. It was a spur line that ran to somewhere I did not know, but to the west. The mainline from which it came, was about a mile away to the east. Once a day, early in the morning, a dirty, grimey diesel engine blowing an obnoxious air horn would pass by making it's trip west, pulling a few old boxcars, flatcars and a caboose. It would then make it's return late in the afternoon or early evening. Often on Saturdays, the train would be pulled by an old steam locomotive. I could hear its sad whistle as it entered the spur from the main line, and the sound of it would always compel me to leap out of my bed. I would quickly get dressed and run outside to watch that huge mechanical marvel, with all its moving parts and heart pounding sounds of chugging, hissing and clanking as it passed by me ... puffing white steam, belching acrid smoke from its stack, it's whistle blowing and the bell ringing as it swung through in great arcs, almost to upside down. I would stand there in awe, waiving at the old gentleman who rode in the cab, and who always smiled broadly as he waived back at me. I would watch that train, straining my ears to hear the sweet sound of exhausting steam until I could no longer hear it. I knew then that I wanted to be a steam locomotive engineer. One Friday evening I walked along the track and found two ties that were set wide and crooked. I had a plan, so using my hands, I stealthily dug the gravel out from between the ties. Early the next morning I heard that whistle and I knew the steam engine was coming. I ran outside to the place where I had excavated and laid down between the rails, face up, with my shoulders wedged between the ties and my feet sticking out from under the rail. Through the rails, I could hear the clickity-clack of wheels growing louder and louder. The ties that my shoulders were against began to tremble, and then the ground that I was laying upon. Closer and closer the train rumbled, and my heart was racing with excitment! As the front of the locomotive passed over me the rail pressed down on my shins with each wheelset that crossed over, (I had not thought of that) and there was so much dust and dripping hot fluid that I could not keep my eyes open to see what it looked like under there, or where that mysterious glow came from! Obviously, the engineer and fireman did not see me, because the train kept on going without slowing down. My poor mother overheard me talking about this incident with my sister a couple of years ago. With her hands on both sides of her face and wide eyes she yelled at me, "you did what !!!!" I thought she was going to have a heart attack! The memory of the first time I pulled the throttle, feeling the whole of the locomotive gently raise up, as if taking a deep breath, then slowly and effortlessly move forward, is still strong in my mind. I am now the old gentleman who rides in the cab waiving at children who stand near the tracks watching the steam locomotive pass by, as I did as a youth..... so many years ago, and yet .. it seems like only yesterday.
I found the illusive file about railroading that I had placed in some other unknown thread in here some time ago. Here it is and I hope you new folks enjoy it ! Hi everyone! Fitz asked me to write this experience for all of you who love steam, to enjoy as I try and paint word pictures in your head, so here goes: Some of you might know that I am the engineer of old number 19 at the Yreka Western RR located just under the Oregon border in northern California. The story that I am going to relate to you took place late last August. During the summer months we pull a steam excursion train Wednesdays through Sundays, which is scheduled to depart the Yreka station at 11:00AM. The excursion presents a problem to our revenue making freight service, which runs every day except Sundays. In view of the fact the freight must be moved in a way not to interfere with the steam excursion, the crew who run the freight start work at 5:00AM, which will normally get them back at the mill and 'in the hole' so that we can pass by them around 11:30AM. Freight is hauled by a 1953 EMD SW8, which consisted of heavy wood chip cars and bulkhead or centerbeam flat cars to haul plywood laminates material. On this particular day, my fireman and I had old #19 steamed up, oiled, greased, with a full tender of water and fuel. We had just hooked up with the consist when the office manager came out and told me that the freight train had mechanical problems, fouling the mainline just east of the Shasta River bridge. I soon learned that there was a major problem with the air supply from the control stand within the diesel's cab. The owner of the railroad drove out and picked up the crew, who were going to attempt to repair the problem. It was decided the passengers could have a full refund, or retain their tickets for a future run in addition to a no charge halfway run. Most everyone elected to go on the free excursion. So we departed the depot and proceeded for approximately 4.5 miles to the Shasta River Bridge. The freight crew rode with us and took some tools and extra parts with them to attempt to fix the problem with the diesel. We waited for them to make the repairs, but they were not successful. The owner of the railroad directed me to take the passengers back to Yreka and then return to assist the diesel / freight in any way possible. I backed the consist all the way back to Yreka and let the passengers off, then moved the old 1915 Baldwin light 2-8-2 back down to the water tower to refill the tender, servicing the grease fittings while it filled. I then proceeded back to the location of the stalled diesel, where the crew was still trying to remedy the problem of a massive air leak by making a hand-made gasket. No go! It still would not hold air to release the brakes. I was told to move my locomotive up and hook on to the rear car so that I could push the freight train into Montague where we would set the freight out on a siding at the interchange with the Central Oregon & Pacific (CORP). I laid down some sand on the rails as I approached the train of cars. Now the fun was about to begin! The freight consist was 4 loaded chip and 3 loaded veneer bulkhead cars, each weighing approximately 125 tons. Each of these cars dwarf the little Mike. The SW-8 weighs approximatley 260,000 pounds and was located at the east end of the freight cars. I coupled onto the rear bulkhead and awaited a signal to move ... contemplating how I was going to manage all that weight up "Pumphouse Hill" (a 2+ percent grade) from the river without slipping the drivers for about a mile and a half. We made our brake test and all was ready to proceed .. and the order came to start forward. I gave two short blasts of the whistle to acknowledge the order. Over the years, I have pulled freight up that grade from the front end of the consist a couple of times, but this was the first time I had to start from a stop, pushing a load that was already on the grade. Leaving the cylinder cocks open, I released the brakes and slowly opened the throttle. Expecting to lose traction, I pushed the sanding lever all the way forward and kept my other hand on the independent brake lever as the old steam locomotive started to move very, very slowly. It seemed that it was 'holding its breath' because there was no immediate exhaust ... only the furious sound of steam escaping the cylinders through the cylinder cocks. But when it did take a breath, it was massive ... and the entire consist lunged forward. I opened the throttle just a little more and gained more momentum as I closed the cylinder cocks. Slowly ... very slowly I continued to pull the throttle and gain speed as my fireman looked at me with a cigarette dangling from his lips and wide eyes, then back to the stack, which was blowing smoke out and barking great volumes of compressed steam exhaust like an angry volcano. As we continued up the hill, the sound of air being sucked into the firebox was deafening, even with ear plugs. If I could only retain traction as we approached the steepest section of the track, which curved to the left then dropped down to an almost level section ... I was listening to and feeling every motion and vibration that the old locomotive made as we entered that curve .. but to my surprise, she held steady as we went through at about 5 miles per hour. I felt so proud of that old steam locomotive. She has been so reliable over all these years and has to rescue the diesel locomotive at least once every year. In November 2001, we had to pull freight twice with it because of electrical problems in the diesel. I am a true believer ... Steam Rules !!!
Geezz! Dont we have more "tales" from you folks? When I was working, I heard a million of 'em. Why not share some,guyz and galz?? CT
