Ind., to climb into the cab of a huge steamer. I would blow the whistle. I would pull the throttle back and ease the locomotive down the track. “They said you’ll be pulling a freight train,” my wife beamed.” Pardon? “A real freight train,” she replied again. My hands were still shaking. Now that the die was cast, I realized
how important it would be to have a companion travel with me to document this adventure. My wife, also a teacher, would be in the classroom during the trip. “How about calling Eddie?” she suggested. “He’s as much of a train nut as you are.” My wife made an excellent point. Not surprisingly, Eddie jumped out of his seat and his wife Elaine did just what my wife Ginny had done. Elaine bought the trip for Eddie as a present. Eddie called back and had dif- ficulty enunciating. Some of Eddie’s phrases reminded me of my time in the Bronx growing up. I knew we were go- ing to North Judson. It was sinking in.
“The morning of our adventure, I donned my outfit like a tuxedo for a wedding. Nothing would be left to chance. How the local Indianans would think of me as we ate breakfast was never a concern. I was a railroad man. Real railroad men wear denim...”
The four months Eddie and I jab-
bered about our trip passed quickly and, before we realized it, we were get- ting off of the plane in rainy Chicago. We tried to hit as many train spots as we could on our way to North Judson, but no matter how many diesels we photographed, they were not steam lo- comotives. Each time we watched the passing array of the powerful, modern, locomotive consists, we whacked each other on the shoulder. “Can you believe that tomorrow we run No. 765?” Eddie would shout the question. I re-
ally was nervous each time I answered. “Yes,” I replied. “I hope I’m up to the task.”
North Judson depot was a few hours
east and we arrived to a slight drizzle and overcast sky. I pointed out that the 765 was nowhere to be seen and Eddie suggested the locomotive might be in the shop just to the side of the depot. The thought immediately crossed my mind that in almost every train yard I have visited, a gentleman would stride forward and invite me to depart. “You’re not allowed,” was the phrase I often heard. We approached the train shed expecting to hear exactly that. Much to our surprise, however, we were greeted warmly by a fine fellow who not only told us the 765 was inside the maintenance shed, he invited us to
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meet the crew. Eddie and I looked at each other and smacked a high five. The shop was a joy to behold. There
before us was a wonderful assemblage of historic railroad equipment and we would get to see some of those great pieces move this weekend. Erie Lack- awanna Alco S1 No. 310, Hoosier Val- ley Whitcomb 44-tonner No. 27, Chesa- peake & Ohio 2-8-4 No. 2789, boxcars being repainted, and plenty of other wondrous artifacts. As we walked down the narrow aisle-
way to the right of the equipment, we were greeted by a bunch of very friend- ly fellows. Still quite incredulous that we were invited in to see the 765 being prepped for our journey, we marveled at how friendly and eager everyone was to explain what was being done. Steve Winicker, who would be our fireman on the Berkshire, greeted us and de- scribed how a leak in the steam dome was being repaired by some real ex- perts. Bill Byers, a retired steam man, assisted by Dave Cox and Rob Kramer were up on the engine with the steam dome shunted to the side and support- ed by a handrail. I asked Steve how much the steam dome weighed and how they moved it. Laughing, he replied that the dome weighed over 300 pounds and they moved it carefully. Eddie and I spent a pleasant hour or
two with the crew gleefully accepting their invitation to climb up into the cab and enjoy ourselves. “Just don’t get hurt,” they pleaded. We planned to fol- low their advice. Scrambling up the cab ladder marveling at the array of valves and gauges Eddie and I imagined what the next day would bring. It was going to require some expert tutelage and a steady hand to deal with a monster this size. It was difficult to believe how lucky we were. My worries about han- dling giant machines, however, were still hanging over me like a cloud. The following day dawned bright and beautiful. It would be hot, but we could not have cared less. We would be fol- lowing our dreams. We would be the engineers on a giant steamer and that was all we could manage to think
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