We bought our tickets at the office.
They directed us to the depot.
There was no passenger car. It seemed the tour had been
somewhat misrepresented.
Was this thing built in 1825?
Possibly so. I saw candles in the lenses.
They were working on it. An old railroader approached.
I asked if we could get seated. I'd never seen a train engine
with a steering wheel before.
Start and Stop. Evidently it was built before the time of
ignition switches.
A technician came in. I don't think he was checking
the on board computers.
There were multiple levers and gauges. I asked if I could
help. I think he wanted to say "yes".
Then a fella who loved the old engine came in, got it going
and smiled as he talked about how good the old girl was.
He was especially proud of the breaker box. He showed us
which wires you touched together to stop her, the only way
she'd shut off.
I offered, but he said they never fooled with the windshields.
The tech got the gas tank opened and started fueling her.
This is where she lives.
The fella who loves her is repainting her. The red white and blue
radiator louvers hint of her previous owners.
Looking out the brakeman's door, our route lay ahead.
This crazy old woman in the baseball hat kept yelling, "All Aboard".
Was she the Conductress? I've seen a lady Amtrak Conductress in action.
Stand back, they don't fool around.
Evidently she was because away we went.
Techie was at the helm. I kept trying to steer.
We crossed this white water river on a high trestle.
Full speed ahead.
A German was filming the entire trip.
Why is there always a German on these train trips?
I heard the tech yell, "Get the switch, I can't stop". The
other dude ran like a race horse.
It was close. I'll trade a little excitement for a passenger
car any day.
He waved what I deciphered as the "high ball" signal.
Then he lost interest or didn't want to look.
Our train stopped.
The motor killed. I think it was a planned kill. Had they
touched the wires?
Suddenly there was a roar and we accelerated in reverse.
Then it ground to a stop and went forward again at a greater speed.
I tried to remain calm and just pan the camera around a little.
Then I understood the back and forth craziness. Evidently
they'd picked up Al and and he, being Al, started playing
with all of those brass levers at once. When mayhem
presents itself, there's usually an answer.
Then he began making horn noises since the horn had
been stolen and we couldn't cross the highway without it.
The lady Conductress told him to get his butt inside. I
couldn't believe my eyes.
Then he turned around and claimed all of the fields, rails
and train for France. Even though Al has sprung a few
gray hairs, he's still got it. Notice the look on his face.
He is sincere in his work.
It sounded like we had a flat.
It was just this, nothing to worry about.
I thought we were picking up a car.
Was Al coming back out? I heard her yell again.
No this time she was yelling at the guy that loves her (the engine).
I want to see the man that loves her.
He got the switch turned and we avoided hitting 20,000
gallons of molasses. Things could have gotten sticky fast.
Evidently Al was seated, oh no, was he driving?
We had picked up speed and were headed for the mill.
We blew across the switch.
The wheels screeched in a painful moan, later described
as rail flex by the old railroader. A crew, complete with
foam awaited our landing. Evidently there had been a
hijacking scare.
We crossed the white water river once more.
It seemed we were closer to that deal earlier.
I could hear the guy that loved the engine trying to
get the breaker box opened as he fought off Al.
The woman conductress reemerged.
The pipes were quiet once again.
Al, the German and the old railroader sat on the back deck
exchanging railroading lore. Al pulled out his harmonica.
I looked at the hitch and realized why we didn't have a
passenger car. It had come unhooked in Amite.
