Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: THURSDAY, January 5, 1995 TAG: 9501070027
SECTION: NEIGHBORS PAGE: S-7 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: BETSY BIESENBACH STAFF WRITER
DATELINE: LENGTH: Medium
As most people know, Norfolk Southern Corp. has canceled its popular excursion program, which featured the streamlined 611, the most modern steam locomotive in existence.
It its announcement to the public, NS noted that few jobs would be lost, since most of the workers were volunteers.
For the past eight years, through my membership in the Roanoke Chapter of the National Railway Historical Society, I have been one of those volunteers. I have traveled through the Southeast, the Midwest and to some of our nation's greatest cities with the steam program.
I have met people from all over the United States and several foreign countries. I have sat in the dark and sooty cab of the 611 and looked directly into the flames as they danced in the unbearable brightness of the firebox. I have heard the whistle so loud and so close that my bones have shaken beneath my skin. I have waved at hundreds of people in hundreds of towns, all of whom turned out simply to watch as we passed by.
But I have mixed feelings about the program ending. During our trips, our days often began at 6 a.m. and ended at midnight with all the time in between spent on our feet. Sometimes, we did this for three or four days in a row.
Afterward, I always felt as though I had been through a character-building experience which required every ounce of my strength and courage.
Twice, I had to be carried off the train at the end of the day, and after every trip, I came home battered and bruised.
My friends were heartbroken when they heard it was all over. I felt numb. I was numbed by the loss of such a big part of my life. And I was numbed by the idea of never working a trip again.
But, on Nov. 4, I was invited to ride as a guest on the 611's last run between Charlotte and Asheville, N.C.
Because I was a passenger, I swore I wasn't going to work. But after dinner I found myself in the kitchen anyway, doing the dishes. Above my head, the stacks of pots and pans rattled together with the swaying of the car, just as they had so many times before.
When the dishes were done, it was dark outside and I went to the vestibule between two cars to stand in the open air.
We were riding close to the locomotive, and I watched the cinders float by me like big gray snowflakes, illuminated by the light from inside.
When I got off the train, I stayed to watch it pull away. I stood close to the locomotive and could feel the heat radiating from its steaming boiler.
Earlier in the day, I had reached out to touch its shiny metal skin one last time and its black nose felt warm and alive, like a friendly, familiar creature.
As the train rolled slowly away, the locomotive chuffed and it puffed and each sound was echoed by an answering huff from the mountains all around. The whistle blew, deep and throaty, and as the big engine picked up speed, a little girl in the crowd clapped her hands in time to the noise. I squinted up into the lighted cab, my arm crooked over my face against a rain of cinders. And I watched it until it disappeared.
by CNB