The Age of Steam
Roberta links to a sweet story, whcih reminds me of one of mine own.
Once upon a time, in a galaxy far far away, I was at a “tourist” destination that had live steam locomotives. It was wintry and cold, and the engineers were sitting at the station waiting for the next go-around, and I sweet talked and bribed them until they let me fire the old girl up for a spin around the little circle of track.
I was excited and nervous, the engine pulled three little cars and they were empty and the snow fell as I rounded the curves, feeling the heat and muscle of the old iron as it scuttled along the worn rails. The brass handles worn smooth by the rough hands of a hundred odd years of hard men. The cinders and smoke and steam in my face.
In my life I have done things few people have done. I have steered a plow behind a horse, dug a well, and driven a steam engine. Few people can say that. Fewer still care. But those machines were once the magic muscle that drove this country- without them we might have ended up another soviet, or a bunch of landlocked republics. The iron rail and steam knitted a net across the country that made us one. I’m happy to see the resurgence of rail shipping fueled by- well, by fuel.
What a sharp memory that is.
Beautiful and eloquent!
Damn I’m jealous.
On driving the steam engine, Dad, Uncle Alex, and Granddaddy would be too.
I’ve been a model railroader since I was knee-high to a grasshopper, and always loved steam engines (I still have my first model steam loco that my folks bought me when I was 14). The first one I saw in the flesh (steel?) was at the Smithsonian, and old Southern loco, man did that thing look HUGE. I’ve since ridden behind steam engines twice, once at Strasburg Railroad in Strasburg PA and once on a fan trip here in NJ run by a historical society.
Some people consider them dirty and smelly, and granted I wouldn’t want one to go by while I had laundry outside, I still think they’re wonderful machines, that appeal to all the senses: you obviously see them, but even see the fire in the grate, you hear the water boiling, the whistle, the chug, you smell the coal and hot oil and grease, and just hot steel.
We lost something when we lost steam.
I read that article in 2000 when I was working on a story involving steam power. I’m glad it’s still out there.
When I was a little kid we took the New York Central from Chesterton, Indiana to Chicago to visit my grandmother. When the huge steam engine pulled up you could feel the ground bend under the weight. Then you walked alongside and saw the great wheels up close and various oily black mysterious parts. It was not streamlined; everything was on the outside. The step up for passengers was so high that the conductor had to place a metal stool for us. It was impressive!