Old Shag
By BOB FARNHAM
There's no knowing what a man can
do until the chips are down—especially
with a helper like the shaggy man!
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Worlds of If Science Fiction, March 1960.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Maybe a guy shouldn't believe everything he hears, but the trouble with some people is that they don't even believe a true story. Let me buy you a beer and tell you about it.
After working some years in the baggage room of the local depot, I decided to transfer to the train service, and made application for it. The application was approved. I was sent to the city offices for the course of study and training which all trainmen undergo, and after a time I was sent out as brakeman on a freight. I stayed for a year and a half. Then I succeeded in being assigned as head brakeman on a fast food special called The Red Ball Special. It made no stop between Chicago and New York except for water and fuel. The big Diesel in which I rode as head brakie was a high-speed locomotive, used exclusively for hauling the food special.
Our first stop was Detroit, where we cut off all but three cars, and took on five more scheduled in New York at 9 the next morning. In New York, I strolled along Broadway, gawking at the sights exactly like any other yokel.
After a twelve-hour rest, the return trip began. I stood in my place in the big Diesel till we had cleared for the main line, and then settled back to enjoy the ride.