She Likes Trains: Sweet Train Dreams
Shelley J Alongi

 

“Sweet train dreams,” I text to my number one engineer on a cool night as he settles in for sleep in order to refresh and run his next trains. Tonight it’s all about sweet train dreams, the opening of track 4, the possible meeting of more engineers, the forty year magic, and the first upcoming experiences in the locomotive cab. Good night, my Lancaster baby, sweet engineer, good night all my engineers. Sweet train dreams.

The lanyard hangs around my knack, once again showing its proud assortment of switch keys, brass and silver bells. The heavy keys do not pull on my injured neck muscles as they once did though my shoulder is by no means returned to normal. Slowly I am getting the use of it back, the hardest thing to do now is hold my arm straight out in front of me at any height, though I can hold it straight up without assistance. Slowly I will regain the use of that muscle as I did ten years ago, but tonight the keys lay across my chest splayed to in their usual disorganized tangled fashion. Adorning the lanyard is one more item of significance, a round metallic sign with the Santa Fe cross on it. The cross was the old logo of the Santa Fe, the name of the trail that mules and horses and wagons plied before C.K. Holliday founded his small little railroad that grew into the empire James Marshall said it did, producing the Harvey Girls, the Harvey houses where one could get meals for twenty-five cents, spawning passenger service, using Sd40 and Sd45 locomotives, supporting my great grandfather in the days of steam, pioneering the use of the diesel electric locomotives comfortable in the hands of my number one engineer, a man who, it seems, is very busy. Now I sit here on the quiet, cool evening, returning to the station, behind us the hissing and idling of perhaps only the power generator on the MPI, locomotives 902 and 889. Now, sitting here with Dave and Mike, and the forty year collector of switch keys, we listen to the engines awaiting their engineers to take them back to Angel stadium to collect celebrants from the opening Angels game. Tonight, Friday, April 8, is the home opener for the angels, the locomotives sit here proudly on track 4. yes, track 4, waiting to guide the angels Express to its final destinations for the night, snuggled down in their storage yards, awaiting another lay over time on track 4. yes, this is track 4, the track that has taken over nine months to construct. It’s the track I’ve been following with progress along with the other railfans as they built the bridge that spans Lemon Street, ending in a chain link fence at the end of the platform, blocking access to my engineers and keeping people from tumbling down the ramp into traffic below. This is a part of the train station that Curly and Dan never get to see. It is the newest addition and now engineers and conductors, curt says, stand down, waiting, warning us away with their eyes, though later they weren’t warning us away. We walk back earlier toward the beginning of this section of the platform, an engineer passes us.

“I bet you I have as many keys as you do,” I chime in cheerfully, jingling my keys. The man pushes open the door, the hydraulics hiss as he enters the last car of the second train.

“I bet you do” he says, not really interested but not ignoring me. Perhaps he is distracted. Probably he is; he doesn’t know me or my history and I don’t’ know him. I only know he has a lot of keys.

But all this happens earlier, after I wave goodbye to Chad, the extra on 608.

“Shelley, right?” says Chad, the extra.

“Is there an engineer apb out on me?” I want to know.

“yeah,” he announces calmly. I laugh. I’m sure there is no all points bulletin out on the Fullerton engineer girl, but you never know. The one brave enough to take my phone number and give me his hasn’t responded to my texts or talked to me since January, though I’ve left several messages. It’s okay because by the time I get around to talking to my Lancaster baby, my number one engineer, I’ll have so much to tell him and so many questions that I leave messages just to update him. Is he reading them? Does he remember? I think he reads them. I think he remembers. I think he likes the attention, just not too much. Don’t worry, Glenn, my number one engineer, this is the easiest relationship you’ve ever had in your life, no strings attached. The only requirement is that you run my cool trains and answer my railroad questions. It’s unconditional love; it’s my romance with the rails. I’ve been thinking about him, lately. I’ll wait. I’m a very patient engineer girl. “So sad,” I text to my Facebook page Sunday April 10, “I didn’t get to talk to Glenn this weekend. The thing is,” I go on to explain to my Facebook following and the lady who knows all about my train crush at work later on that week, “if he was sitting at home waiting for my calls I wouldn’t want to talk to him.” It’s true. Glenn has a life and now he knows I have one, too. I’ll tell you more about that later. Stay tuned, as they say.

Right now, standing here on the platform at track 3 talking to Chad, it is important to know what he has done with my stock broker engineer.

“what did you do with bobby?” I ask him.

“He’s on vacation. I’ve been here this week and next,” he explains.

Remember that this is the engineer whose train I rode into Los Angeles on July 12, 2010, my birthday, when I wanted to see Cary. I sea Chad instead. Steve the conductor who worked with Glenn for a long time told me Chad’s name and then several months later I meet him as he majestically handled 608 on track 3 at the Fullerton station. Let’s see, Chad is my number 4 engineer because he remembered my name without prompting. I wasn’t wearing any Disney name tags on Friday April 8, I touched my shoulder just to make sure.

“Chad Skinner the extra on 608,” I text to my number one engineer, “remembered my name. I asked if there was an engineer apb out on me. He said yes. Silly! Sweet train dreams!” I wish my engineer as I text him after 10:00 in the evening. I know it’s late and the message got to him right away, and I laugh. I always wondered if Glenn remembered my name. I guess he did. How many locomotive engineers know my name? Four, for sure, and maybe five. One day I’ll line them all up in a room and they will testify to my own version of sweet train dreams, the dream I had of meeting engineers. Me, middle aged, coming from a railroading family of sorts, perhaps with a little bit of the wild side of my family caged up in my theologically and liberally conservative Christian values rapped in Disney integrity and muted dress, a work ethic, responsibility, and middle aged adolescent railfanness. Here we are, displaying with pride All my locomotive engineers, and now track 4 is open for business which means, if I don’t’ get shy, that I could meet more of them.

For now, Chad sits on track 1 and then as I wave him off into the sunset toward Ocean Side, on his way to the orange subdivision owned by Metrolink, the section of the mainline that track 4 connects to, I smile. More engineers! But they all have to line up behind my number one engineer! And they’re all part of my sweet train dreams!

Tonight, John, the switch key collector takes my arm and we join the east end bunch as they all walk over to investigate the new platform with its shining yellow stripes, new metal benches, the train snuggles almost against the wall that keeps us from falling in the pit that goes under the rails. A three foot wall, where you can sit if you like, separates the new platform from the other tracks, the occasional freight passes through, clanging, rattling, honking, feeding love sick forty year veterans of the railroad watching avocation. There must be something magical about forty years in railroading. Dave says he’s been watching trains forty years. Glenn has been running trains 40 years, soon to be 41 just after his birthday and my introduction into this world of interesting people and machines. Machines, it seems, that always, according to Metrolink texts, have mechanical issues. Lately it’s been the people disrupting service, train such and such is late due to disruptive passengers. The trouble has been on the San Bernardino line. The antelope Valley line has been quiet, Glenn seems to have gotten home early one night since he got a text message I wrote him at 9:48, my phone says.


Hi. What happened in L.A. today? The west side of the station was closed. Learned it from Metrolink texts.”

So there is action on the Metrolink lines, but tonight, April 8, as we investigate the new, shining rails and equipment, we speculate. Will they use this track for lay over? Eventually it will serve passengers going south to Mission Viejo. But not yet. It seems that plan is on the bak burner due to economic slow down. According to Amtrak, ridership has grown in the last eighteen months. So who knows if we’re right about economic slow down halting progress on southbound service from fullerton to Mission Viejo. We’ll find out soon enough.

Tonight we all sit here waiting, watching, and dreaming sweet train dreams.
 There is always another train dream in the back of my mind, one that probably asserts itself as I stand on the ground looking up into the window where my alfa cat engineers sit, the dream of being where they are, touching what they touch. It’s probably a larger version of a truck, but it’s filled with such mystique, if only in my head, and now perhaps I get the chance to have my dream come true, not because of any of my engineers, but because of Kimberly. Yes, Kimberly figures prominetly in this railroad journey now. Her introduction to the Harvey girls, her energetic youthfulness catches the attention of the Orange Empire Railroad Museum directors, it seems, and they ask her to volunteer, to do things. She knows almost nothing about trains and here she is steeped in the railroading volunteering opportunity. Saturday April 16 as I am rehearsing with the choir for easter she will volunteer at the San Bernardino railroad days. In her introduction to the Harvey Girls tea, and her activities, she mentions me.

“I’m only here because of Shelley,” she says. And then proceeds to explain that I’m into trains.

“Apparently,” I tell Glenn in a voicemail, “I get to go into the locomotive cab at the Orange Empire museum. I wanted to ask you about it because I figure you’ve probably run one like it and,” I’m a little nervous, gushing, calm, friendly, and no I don’t have much time as I leave this message, “I want your opinion of it. My friend went to the museum and they liked her.” I laugh. “She’s not even into trains.” I continue my story. “I’m only here because of Shelley, she says. They want me to go in the cab. Great, it’s all Shelley’s fault” I laugh into Glenn’s silent voicemail.” It’s all my drama and it’s not a fatality, a troubled question, a surprise from my engineer who calls me back, it’s me, not willing to text this time, only willing to gush into my number one engineer’s phone. “You’re my engineer, at least the one I talk to. I haven’t been to the station for a while between my second job and rehearsing with the easter choir.”I know Glenn likes the second job part. He always asked me if I was working when I saw him, probably as I think about it now, because I was wearing my Disney ID when I saw him, but he’s just sweet,magical Glenn, who could figure him out. If I ever figured his high energetic personality out it would take away the mystery. So now I’ll just tell him about my latest train adventure and ask him what he thinks about it.

Bring her here, the directors tell Kimberly, she can go into the locomotive with all its dials, switches and its 1943 Diesel Electric power, and then write an article about her experiences. Okay so is this the publicity for the museum? We shall see. What will I write? What will I say? What will happen? I’ll kno more in two weeks. We’ll go to the museum, tour the grounds, and climb up into the 1943 Diesel locomotive. I explain this to Dave and then ask what the locomotive model is. He thinks it’s an SD45. We shall see. I know nothing else about that for the moment. I only know I may get to go into that cab. It’s not the modern desktop configuration that Glenn comforts with familiar strokes of fingers used to dials, switches and levers, but it’s a start and I’ll take that.

About 9:02, the two train sets prepare for departure. The bells clang on the first one, 902 pulls out, train set number 2 lets the proper time pass and then 889 pulls out. They are going back to the stadium to pick up happy celebrants and let them stumble out the doors to their destinations, signaling the opening of track 4 at Fullerton, giving me the chance to meet more engineers, providing lots more memories, and helping to bring about the tangible reality of one sweet train dream. This is actually a good idea, Dave says of the plan to use track 4 as a lay over spot for the Angels Express. Finally, he thinks something is a good idea. It is. It is someone’s sweet train dream.

“Sweet train dreams,” I text to my number one engineer on a cool night as he settles in for sleep in order to refresh and run his next trains. Tonight it’s all about sweet train dreams, the opening of track 4, the possible meeting of more engineers, the forty year magic, and the first upcoming experiences in the locomotive cab. Good night, my Lancaster baby, sweet engineer, good night all my engineers. Sweet train dreams.

 

 

Copyright © 2011 Shelley J Alongi
Published on the World Wide Web by "www.storymania.com"