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Description
It’s mid afternoon and we’ve disembarked the train at the last photo runby stop on the schedule. We mill about around the grade crossing or make our ways to the tops of nearby snow banks to get that perfect highground point of view. A little farther down the track at the head of our string of passenger cars lies our engine, hissing just out of sight. Suddenly three quick blasts of the engine’s whistle pierce the frigid winter air, and the streamlined cars beside us jolt into reverse with a crash.

We watch as the cars roll past us, waiting for the engine to show itself at the end of the procession. The hills echo with the small locomotive’s heavy, measured exhaust:

CHFF-chff-chff-chff-CHFF-chff-chff-chff-CHFF-chff-chff-chff-CHFF-chff-chff-chff...

With a rush the engine bursts into view as it enters the clearing around the crossing. No one is at the controls. The engineer is leaning out of the cab window, a huge grin across his face, waving two imaginary conductor’s batons to the 4/4 rhythm of the symphony around him. He manages simultaneously to exchange a knowing glance with his sizeable collective audience before he is whisked out of sight by his train and a cloud of steam. We’re left wondering if we the passengers are really the ones most enjoying this wintertime steam engine excursion spectacular. I for one am convinced that we aren’t.

Description
It’s mid afternoon and we’ve disembarked the train at the last photo runby stop on the schedule. We mill about around the grade crossing or make our ways to the tops of nearby snow banks to get that perfect highground point of view. A little farther down the track at the head of our string of passenger cars lies our engine, hissing just out of sight. Suddenly three quick blasts of the engine’s whistle pierce the frigid winter air, and the streamlined cars beside us jolt into reverse with a crash.

We watch as the cars roll past us, waiting for the engine to show itself at the end of the procession. The hills echo with the small locomotive’s heavy, measured exhaust:

CHFF-chff-chff-chff-CHFF-chff-chff-chff-CHFF-chff-chff-chff-CHFF-chff-chff-chff...

With a rush the engine bursts into view as it enters the clearing around the crossing. No one is at the controls. The engineer is leaning out of the cab window, a huge grin across his face, waving two imaginary conductor’s batons to the 4/4 rhythm of the symphony around him. He manages simultaneously to exchange a knowing glance with his sizeable collective audience before he is whisked out of sight by his train and a cloud of steam. We’re left wondering if we the passengers are really the ones most enjoying this wintertime steam engine excursion spectacular. I for one am convinced that we aren’t.