She Likes Trains: Between 606 And Infinity
Shelley J Alongi

 

Starting my sixth year of railfanness and five years of engineer interest I still think my number one hung the railroad moon and stars in his spare time on a Saturday night. I hope he doesn’t mind too much. Man, am I lucky. No complications. And, always trains.

November and December see cool nights, regular work hours, and several trips to the station. Sometimes, I get rides home from Tom the schoolteacher. Wally drops by once in a while. On Monday night before Christmas Eve he hands out Little Debbie boxes. I take two of them and leave them happily on the counter for work colleagues on Christmas Eve. I get a ride home from him once and we listen to Elvis Presley Christmas music as I think of going to work in the morning and the hanger of the railroad moon and stars. Man, am I lucky! No complications. And, always, trains.

On Monday December 16, I take part in an event I haven’t been to in at least two years: the Southern California Train Travel group Christmas party at the Old Spaghetti Factory. They have moved the party the last two years to Orange, and I’m either working or have something going on and don’t’ make it. But, this time, I have Mondays off and I can attend. We all gather in an empty, non operational bar, waiting for the restaurant to open at 5:00 PM on this cool Monday night. . I’m not really interested in the bar, but everyone else is. Steve, the organizer, says something about the restaurant losing the contract and they don’t’ know who is paid. Sounds like regular life to me. I pay at the door, my funds being tight as usual. But, they are manageable. So, here I am. And, this time it’s not raining. The last time I attended the party was three years ago when I navigated in the poring rain and got a ride home from Steve and Barbara. I see some of the same people I saw there three years ago. There’s Peter who’s always letting everyone know what changes there are in the system. I arrive early, sitting on the benches outside and doing my usual business on my phone: checking email, reading Facebook posts. I spend much less time at my desktop these days. The iPhone, my introduction to a smart phone, was a good investment for me. It keeps me up to date on trains, too, and lets me enjoy the Lancaster nightcap when I’m on the go and the stream isn’t down. Tonight, it keeps me busy and lets me post one more picture on Face Book.

One of the ladies there is Joann and I enter into her conversation. Sitting by the window I make a remark about something and by the end of the night we’re at the same table and she’s taking my picture. It’s her husband who provides the entertainment. She provides In Home support Services for people who need medical care. She pre plans burials at Forest Lawn Memorial park. We’re regaled with sometimes questionable jokes by her husband. Two women sit across from us, Mary and another whose name I don’t remember. They’ve been friends for a long time, it seems. Our table is reasonably quiet. No train jokes; no train stories. Just interesting conversation with people who like a party.

The manager has the party well in hand. The meat lover’s sausage, meatballs, spaghetti, salad and bread and ice-cream are quite good. You could say, not knowing what’s going on in everyone’s head, a good time was had by all.

I get there tonight by taking the 35 north on Brookhurst and connecting to the 26 on Commonwealth which winds up at its usual spot on dock 4. But, things have changed in the bus department, too. My alternate route, the one that gets me from Disney Travel to the station now has a new location. The bus stop for the 47, the bus I take from work to the station has been moved to accommodate the new 543 bus. The new stop is located just west of the end of the platform that extends almost to the signals. Some nights I make the bus and some nights I don’t. I’ve walked down to the motorcycle parking before, still not getting my bearings quite correct. But, it will come. It is closer to where I want to be sometimes, a direct line from the café, the bridge, and the cages where we or the homeless sit.

The focal point for downtown is bustling with activity on most nights, not activity like Los Angeles Union Station, but with its own rhythms. I've discussed the rhythm of the station in many other places. Now, it continues. Music drifts to the patio and station faithful, commuters roll bags and talk on cell phones. Residents from various points of the United States come and wait for number 4, the Amish make their regular trips to Mexico for medical treatment or whatever reason brings them there.

I finally meet Dave Arthur one of the conductors who regularly appears on the Southwest Chief. Glenn knows him. Mo knew him. Finally, I meet him. It happens one night as we all sit down at the east end, and he stations himself by the baggage car. The baggage car usually lines up where we sit, the locomotives close in front, stretching out into the ballast near the signals. Talking to Dave Norris he then turns his attention to me. he says he knew me when he used to work metrolink trains. I don't remember him working Metrolink trains, at least not the ones I’ve been on. I have noticed him on the platform but never made the connection. Now, I know who he is. , and, I say, I don't ride Metrolink trains that much. I've been on ten Metrolink trains this year. I haven't been on any Amtrak trains at all. I'm not like some who wish to rack up miles on the tracks. I want to learn railroad crew stories. I want to meet all the engineers. It's been that way since Chatsworth. Oh, I think, some times, that is an interesting group of people I never thought of meeting. Now, here's my chance.

Still, on New Year's Eve of 2013, I strictly adhere to my original pronouncement about Glenn. I met the best first. Yes, Eddie, James took me to dinner. But, glenn deals with my over excitement, my consuming curiosity, my fawning railroad attachment. He answers questions and tells me stories. He takes me to the railroad tracks when I go to Lancaster to meet my departing trains and tells me when someone foolishly rides their bike in front of his train. He tells me to deal with things and asks me how my cats are. He texts merry Christmas when I text him first. Merry Christmas lock out of our building and still getting paid, I text him as I sit on a bench in the court yard waiting till our electronic door server is restored and we can enter the building to start our day’s work. I haven’t planned on texting him this week. But, things keep happening.

Awake for bad power on 208 have a better rest of your day, I text when his locomotive dies on Monday December 23.

S:How is your student doing?
G: Good. He’s going to make a very good engineer.

He never tells me to stop texting. He says we'll talk again and he'll read my texts. He's earned many stars on his chart. And, he stood for his picture and apologized when we couldn't go to lunch in L.A. It's all fine.

Starting my sixth year of railfanness and five years of engineer interest I still think he hung the railroad moon and stars in his spare time on a Saturday night. I hope he doesn’t mind too much.

If Glenn hung the moon and stars, One cool Tuesday in December, I strike engineer gold. I approach the six car marker. I am expecting extras on the floater train.
"Shelley!"
It's bobby. I am surprised.
"Hey!" I exclaim in delight, approaching my happy place near the cab.
I'm in my familiar railroad sweet spot again. I’ve talked to Bobby for three years. He replaced Glenn on 608. I do have that first conversation. Amazing how long it’s been, and amazing that I waited a year to start my explorations into crew personalities and stories. Now, here’s my favorite engine, my EMD, and I stand looking up, smiling, I’m sure.
"You're back."
"I got bumped."
"Where did you go?"
"San Bernardino."
Over the past few months the San Bernardino line has been plagued with bad or broken power, that is, locomotives. Many call the locomotives power since they are the machines that move the trains.
"why would anyone want to work there?" i ask.
"Closer to home."
"I see."
"what are you doing out here in the cold?"
"Coming to talk to whoever will talk to me."
"I'll talk to you," he says.

I wonder if he's a little annoyed with the new engineer crop? I don't know if there are any new rules in place.
Earlier that day, or was it another, I come to 606, always hopeful. My hopes are rewarded. Usually I've been arriving just after 606 leaves, between 606 and infinity, I guess, sometimes just as 608 arrives or leaves, the MPI humming across the tracks. Today, I see two engineers.
 
"Do you have plans for Christmas?"
"Working," I say, just like my favorite engineer, I think.
"You?"
Here I am in my favorite spot, talking to the person who runs the train, though, some say, the computer runs the train. The computer, the conductor, whatever. The engineer brakes the train. On one day, the computer won’t let my engineer run his train.
"Fun," Carey says. Guess he's not working.
Glenn worked Thanksgiving and Christmas. He worked Christmas; I worked Christmas.
He worked 269 in the early evening. Not sure what train he worked in the morning. I thought to myself hum I'll turn on the radio at 7:30 and there he was backing the car up to Sierra.
Red at Sierra says the conductor, not sure who it was. Was it conductor Wimberly? Maybe.
But, now, here on this day between Thanksgiving and Christmas, Carey is telling me he’s having fun.
“You have a good holiday if I don’t’ see you,” he says.
I don’t see him the rest of the year. On New Year’s Eve, I come to the trains again. I’ve worked eight days in a row so I can get January 1 and 2 off. So, I don’t get there for that time period because I want to be well rested for my long work stint. I’ll cover all that in another entry. But, here, on New Year’s Eve, I stand by the six car marker. I wave and call his name. He’s not there. His replacement doesn’t respond, maybe busy or listening or just not wanting to respond to me. Funny. Sometimes, they come to me. Sometimes they just don’t want to talk to me and that’s fine. Maybe, some day. Sometimes, these things take time. And, these days I don’t make the trains as often as I’d like. There’s so much out there waiting to be discovered.

If there are conversations about politics and old movies, and Tom looks up actors on his iPhone, which he’s adopted with some reluctance and found he likes, it seems the rail nuts seem to do a lot of teasing. They tease me about my last Lancaster trip. I suppose I always open myself up for that. We sit bundled against a cool December night, we speculate on just what exactly was in the engineer’s bag. I wonder what was in glenn’s bag that made it so heavy in Los Angeles. You can read about that in my Lancaster entry. Of course, I would be interested in the bag since I get a lot of comments about mine not only from railfans but from others. I have people ask me if I need help carrying it on the bus. No, thank you, I’m fine. I can’t see what kind of bag he has and I don’t’ ask him, but of course I have to bring this up because it’s such a theme with me. So, what is in that engineer’s bag?

“All those rule books,” Dave says, trying to rescue this conversation, I think. And, yet, he’s the one who made it the most original.
Things he needs and things he doesn’t, says one guy. Cats? Probably not cats. People always say I have cats and cookies and engineers in mine. No cookies, they say. No, maybe not. And, then, there is an original suggestion. He is in Lancaster and it is cold there. Temperatures range anywhere from 28 to 48 degrees Fahrenheit. Perhaps he has a hot water bottle for his feet, Dave suggests. That’s the most original one yet, and I just have to laugh at that one. No, I say, and think later, is this “Little House on the Prairie” where you chip ice out of the wash basin in the morning? It makes me smile, just a little. Why didn’t I think of that one? Maybe, that’s what cats are for? Cat company! I have my own things I suggest, I guess. Maybe, since it was 23 below zero in Wisconsin last week, a water bottle wouldn’t’ be such a bad idea for those railroaders, if they even ran their trains on such cool, steel rails and the water didn’t freeze in the bottle.

We have visits from maintenance of way crews digging ballast with a and welding rail, picking up the old rail and replacing it. Everyone likes to watch and one man passing us says “Did they charge admission?” No. It’s one of the few things in life that are free. We hear the communication with the guy driving the high railer and we know when there’s a train coming. The crew vacates the tracks and allows for the appearance of whatever freight comes. Obviously, track two is out of service. They wait and we watch.

There is food from In and Out with the railfans at the east end. There’s conversation with Don and Mickey. Mickey is losing fingers to a blood infection of some sort. Don picks up cans Curt leaves in the planter. Don says the cans give him cigarette money. The man has to be close to eighty years old and he is a chain smoker. Well, why not? Let him if it makes him happy.

There are not too many late night trips to the Santa Fe Express Café on Fridays. Jose is working now since Wendy had her schedule changed at downtown Disney. I would go there and charge my phone, sometimes eat, and mainly talk to her. Room mate troubles or did she see the man from the orange trains? No, she hasn’t seen the engineer from the BNSF trains. We stand by the fence and watch the trains pass. Jonathan, one of the young railfans who now after trying very hard works for the post office used to go to school with her. He talks to her once before her schedule changes. Jose doesn’t want to be there at night. If I didn’t have to be up at 5:00 in the morning I’d work the night shift, I say. But, Disney pays better and I really don’t like that restaurant owner. She doesn’t need this place so she doesn’t put much into it. Maybe, someday, I will buy that place after all. That will work itself out, too. No, I’m going to start the railroad crew base where the place is always open, you can stare off into space after a fatality, or work things out; sleep, make up stories, or even, maybe, take a free water bottle to your room if you wan to stay the night. Yes, I think that’s what I want to do. For twenty years I’ve wanted to own a restaurant. I think I’ve found my niche. But, for now, Wendy is no longer in this one and I eat less and less ice-cream from this one. I buy a lot of diet sodas. I slip quarters into the restroom door. I say hi as I leave. Yes, again, as usual, restaurant workers know me on a first name basis, even if I don’t go there very often. Wonder if all the engineers will know my name? Two of them call my name. The important thing is, the one that I used to wonder about, does. Sometimes they ask if I remember them. Yes, I remember you. All of them are unforgettable. But, only one hung the railroad moon and stars.

I’m bound to meet a conductor or engineer or two at track 4. I haven’t seen James lately. He may have gotten bumped. Once when I ask him how long he’ll be on this run he says he can’t be sure. He does fifty-five hours, he says. And, maybe in a few years he’ll be able to have more control over his schedule. Wherever he is now, good luck. Richard the conductor I first met when I was on 608 in 2009 is still on this line. We talk once in a while. Bundled in my blue jacket and scarves, the grip on my lap, we exchange pleasantries only. Yes, I’m still working for Disney. I know it’s been a while since I’ve been here. Conscientious, he ties down the train and walks it. This is always just a good place to relax, even if the locomotive is an MPI. You know it served as a haven for my dealing with the 269 incident back in October.

And, then, there are those moments when I need to figure out what Glenn told me without going to an online source. The usual source is our forty year veteran watcher who knows what I’m talking about. Why does he keep bringing up the SDAE? Because, says Dave, the San Diego and Arizona Eastern was financed by Spreckles. Oh, that’s it. I don’t’ know how I manage to miss things my number one engineer tells me. Maybe I blink. And, Glenn says, if you want to know if they’re rail nuts or not, ask them which was the first Port operated by the Santa Fe. And, if you really want to know, ask them which directions the railroad chose when Seaboard Airline and Atlantic Coastline merged. The Seaboard Airline operated from 1900 in some form or other till 1967 when it merged with the Atlantic Coastline to form the Seaboard Coastline. It’s all very confusing to me and I have to look it up several times. And, as usual, my weakness is directions. I always have to write down directions, and since I didn’t write the answer down I don’t remember it. And, now, of course, I can’t find it. I’ve always had trouble remembering details about things, and the railroad is no exception. This railroad merged with this one to become that one. I remember the latest ones because now I encounter their names constantly.

“Why can Glenn remember all these names when he’s older than me?” I ask the forty year veteran of the railroad.

“It’s a matter of perusing the holy texts,” he says. He may be right. Give me time. I’ve already figured some things out. But, not everything. I want to learn to be the engineer. Maybe he will teach me how to be one? And, my holy texts will be locomotive operation manuals. I keep hearing this. So, I suppose I should go find some.

The Railroadiana show is coming up in February. Guess I better bring some money. I have a few things to pick up. Two railroad books by Phil Serpico, and an operation manual. And, maybe a key. And, then there’s the train handling and braking book. So much to learn and so little time. And, I’ll take it all.

Starting my sixth year of railfanness and five years of engineer interest I still think he hung the railroad moon and stars in his spare time on a Saturday night. I hope he doesn’t mind too much. Man, am I lucky. No complications. And, always trains.

 

 

Copyright © 2014 Shelley J Alongi
Published on the World Wide Web by "www.storymania.com"