I'll do this lickity split because that's the way it happened.
We bought our tickets at the office.
They directed us to the depot.
Was this thing built in 1825?
Possibly so. I saw candles in the lenses.
They were working on it. An old railroader approached.
Start and Stop. Evidently it was built before the time of ignition switches.
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?
He waved what I deciphered as the "high ball" signal.
Then he lost interest or didn't want to look.
Our train stopped.
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.
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?
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.