BOYS' OWN COLUMN.

Auckland Star, Volume LX, Issue 134, 8 June 1929, Page 2 (Supplement)

BOYS' OWN COLUMN.

PETER PAN ON THE FOOTPLATE.

A RIDE IN THE "LIMITED" CAB

Dear Boys, — Business recently called for a journey on the Main Trunk railway, and, as the train tore through the right, I wondered what it would be like riding on the footplate in the huge engine. I was soon to know, however, for in my pocket I held an authority from the powers tliac be that would enable me to ride in the cab over one section of the line. It was late in the r.igrl that I climbed up the steps to the cab, to be greeted with a cheery " liclso, L*eter, hope you enjoy yourself," from the driver who was then waiting : :or the guard's whistle. "Right oh, Bill,'.' ceiled lite ctoker, who had seen the guard's green light; the driver jerked tis v.'iildLa cord,'and, pushing forward a lever, released the Westinghouse bral:, the steam cock, and we were away on what was, for me at least, to j_ r. Lirilling ride. You may imagine I was fvrii c' •"-.,• .rats™ and "whys," and to his credit be it said that my friend, the di-hci, was very patient, and gave me all information that I wanted. "Now, hanjj on to something," he called. "It'll be a rough ride from here on." We were just entering on a long slightly downhill stretch, and his advice was necessary, for soon the loco, was swaying about in an alarming manner. Meantime friend stoker has not been idle; our fiery steed seemed to have an insatiable appetite for the great black nuggets of coal, and required feeding every minute or so. After his exhibition of stoking I take off my hafc to these men who can balance themselves in a swaying cab and stoke coal into a roaring furnace, where the flames are so bright that a mere glance into the furnace leaves one's eyes in a state similar to that which results from looking at the bright sun. Possibly the most thrilling sight is that afforded one in the cab, when, looking at the track ahead, the gleaming electric eye pierces the night, and throws up the track into relief, and, spreading sideways, illuminates the adjacent country for many yards, giving clumps of trees an eerie appearance. Uphill jnow, tearing round corners and through cuttings, the sensation is thrilling in the extreme, but one realises what a strain it muet be on the men -who control the iron horse -which draws through the night carriage after carriage with their human cargo. "Ever been in an accident?" I asked. "Yes, once," replied the driver, as he released'the brakes as the train straightened from a curve. "I was stoking at the time, and we were covering country in which slips were probable. Round a curve, just like that last one, 1, he said, "My mate yelled out, 'Slip, Bill, hang on.' The brakes were hard on the same moment. We didn't do much damage, though," he added. How he could drive without being a nervous wreck after such a calamity, I could not understand, and I asked him what the sensation •was. "Oh," he said, with a smile, "You just hang tin and wait—that's all .you can do. I remember ..." But I was not to hear that story, for a station signal shewed up in the night, and in a moment the train was passing over the outer points of the station. With a bang the tablets were exchanged, and in a moment more the vibrating engine came to a ,<rf stop with the hiss of escaping steam, ,^* and released air from the brakes. With a final cheerio and thanks, I QA&^g?*^ left the cab, but it will be long l*^*^**^**^ before I forget my first ride in an ,««<^ engine.