The One.
Could have wished for blue skies, some sweeter light, or a more scenic location and a little elevation. Would have loved to be alone with her . . . but we were never alone. (see photo below : )
Still, after fighting the crowd in the chase and having so many shots ruined, it was good enough to be able to pull in and jump out at this crossing where no one else waited; to have just a minute to catch my breath before she showed her light, and then to stand in soft rain and watch and feel and hear her blow by.
Chicago, Burlington & Quincy's Silver Pilot pulling the Nebraska Zephyr. Sweet E5 with her oscillating headlight between painted on "vents" that paid tribute to the look of the Pioneer Zephyr. Train of the Goddesses in her majestic silver fluting. Now I love trains with a passion, but this is the one that means the most to me.
The Burlington Route ran through my hometown in Iowa, a place where the sounds of train horns still bounce deliciously off the hills along the river. When my mom and her brothers and sisters went out to play in the 1930s, my grandmother would tell them, "You all come home, now, when you hear the Zephyr." The Burlington took my dad off to service in WWII and, in 1943, carried my shy, 19-year-old mom to Chicago on the first leg of her journey to be with him - all alone on the Zephyr and she had never before been away from home.
On the day I was born, the Nebraska Zephyr would have passed through our town. Though they moved me away young, to a largely trainless suburban existence, we were back home at every opportunity. I could see Zephyrs from my grandparents' backyard on the hill and hear them everywhere in town. Some things stay with you . . . always.
So this imperfect shot is my perfect souvenir from Train Fest. I'm thankful this Zephyr survives and I had the chance to see her, making connections again to home and history and family . . . and the most beautiful form of locomotion that will ever roam the rails.
She looks better HERE!
The One.
Could have wished for blue skies, some sweeter light, or a more scenic location and a little elevation. Would have loved to be alone with her . . . but we were never alone. (see photo below : )
Still, after fighting the crowd in the chase and having so many shots ruined, it was good enough to be able to pull in and jump out at this crossing where no one else waited; to have just a minute to catch my breath before she showed her light, and then to stand in soft rain and watch and feel and hear her blow by.
Chicago, Burlington & Quincy's Silver Pilot pulling the Nebraska Zephyr. Sweet E5 with her oscillating headlight between painted on "vents" that paid tribute to the look of the Pioneer Zephyr. Train of the Goddesses in her majestic silver fluting. Now I love trains with a passion, but this is the one that means the most to me.
The Burlington Route ran through my hometown in Iowa, a place where the sounds of train horns still bounce deliciously off the hills along the river. When my mom and her brothers and sisters went out to play in the 1930s, my grandmother would tell them, "You all come home, now, when you hear the Zephyr." The Burlington took my dad off to service in WWII and, in 1943, carried my shy, 19-year-old mom to Chicago on the first leg of her journey to be with him - all alone on the Zephyr and she had never before been away from home.
On the day I was born, the Nebraska Zephyr would have passed through our town. Though they moved me away young, to a largely trainless suburban existence, we were back home at every opportunity. I could see Zephyrs from my grandparents' backyard on the hill and hear them everywhere in town. Some things stay with you . . . always.
So this imperfect shot is my perfect souvenir from Train Fest. I'm thankful this Zephyr survives and I had the chance to see her, making connections again to home and history and family . . . and the most beautiful form of locomotion that will ever roam the rails.
She looks better HERE!