Subject: Hercules - A Steam Adventure Part 2

From: [email-masked] (Charlie Lear)
Date: Thu, 24 Mar 1994 08:05:22 GMT

The last part of the Hercules story said, "I still can't wait for
Sunday."

I could hardly get to sleep on Saturday night.  I was like a kid on
Christmas Eve.  After all, in the morning I'd be getting up and
within a couple of hours would have my very own live steam
locomotive stabled in the garage.  I hadn't planned on doing
anything at all on Sunday except sit out in the workshop drinking
coffee and gloating over my engine.

Sunday, the forecast was for showers.  So much for forecasters.  It
was absolutely *hosing* down, and a cold southerly wind was
whistling over the hilltops.

All morning I was glued to the window, alternately feeling great
when the clouds parted and showed a little bit of blue, and then
reduced to nailbiting when it started raining again.

Eventually we'd had enough (me enough of waiting, and Val enough of
me) and we put the transporter and bridge track in the back of the
car.  I'd already bought some tie-down straps and figured where to
attach them to the car.  Over the Wainuiomata Hill we went, stopping
at the lookout.  By using binoculars, you can see the track at
Petone.  The track was deserted, but several cars and a van were
parked outside, so it was safe to assume everyone was warm and dry
inside the clubhouse.
 
Uh, yeah.  We got there and the place was deserted.  I still don't
have any idea where all the people who'd parked there had
disappeared to.  There was no point waiting - obviously the track
day had been cancelled and everyone had gone home.

I was unhappy, but determined.  We'd just have to phone someone who
had keys, and we'd try to shift the loco on our own.  I had no
stupid ideas about trying to lift 460 pounds of cold steel, but was
resolved to use brain instead of muscle.  

Back over the hill.  I remembered where Ian, the club President,
lived, so we called at his place first.  He was happy to lend us his
keys, but warned me not to do anything silly.

Back over the hill.  I parked by the steaming bays and unlocked the
doors at the end of the clubhouse.  Isn't relativity amazing?  The
kind of relativity that makes a locomotive look a reasonable size on
the track, and magnifies it to utterly huge proportions when it is
cold and the wind is whipping around and there are only two of you
to move the thing.

I went and got the 10' length of bridging track that is used to
guide trains from a storage yard over the unbroken main line.  This
track has nicely tapered rail ends.  My idea was to line it up with
Hercules, run the loco out of the shed and onto the concrete ramp,
turn the track with the loco on it so that it was facing the main
line, run the loco along it, then do the same again.  I put some
conveniently located bags of coal directly under the bridging track,
tested it with my weight, and gently rolled Hercules back.

The rear wheels went straight on, then the centre pair.  Then to my
alarm, instead of following the rail as it went down, the rear
wheels left the track and rose above it.  Obviously the loco is very
front-heavy.  I moved the loco out another couple of inches and
stopped.  When it went past its point of balance, I probably
wouldn't have been able to hold the loco up in the air.  I could not
guarantee that the rear wheels would land on the track, and if it
missed, we'd be well and truly stuck.  There was absolutely nobody
around to help.

I did a bit of thinking as Val and I pushed Hercules back into the
building and put everything away.  I wasn't as disappointed as I
thought I'd be, primarily because we had tried and decided of our
own accord that it wasn't worth the risk to ourselves or the loco.
I said as much to Ian when we dropped the keys around later.

And that is basically where we still are - I've been working late,
it has been hard to think of people we know who are suitably beefy
and can help carry the loco to the track, and to top it all off we
are going away this weekend.

Not to worry.  I've had firm offers of help, so it looks like next
Tuesday evening will be the night of the Big Attempt.  Once she is
on the track, it is easy to run down the main, back across the
points and up to the steaming bays and into the car.  It's just the
twelve feet from the building to the main line that is the difficult
bit so far.

I'm very encouraged by the amount of email support received.  I'll
try to reply to you all over the next few days!  Thanks, guys.

Stay tuned!

-- 
Charlie "The Bear" Lear  Official: [email-masked], VTLEAR at SYDVM1
Unofficial: [email-masked]                      Fax +64 4 564-5900
Customer Service Representative, IBM New Zealand, Wellington    DoD#221