Hobo Jungle
I'll never forget the M1's. They could move , and I do mean move , passenger or freight . I remember some going one way with a passenger and returning with a freight . They might not have had the style of some other locos, but they were magnificent .
roger
I support thread drift.
If God didn't want women to be looked at, He would have made 'em ugly. RAH
I support thread drift.
If God didn't want women to be looked at, He would have made 'em ugly. RAH
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penncentral8885
- Posts: 3012
- Joined: Wed Aug 17, 2005 10:09 pm
- Location: Indiana
The only thing that could top that would be a plate from a NYC Hudson!!!!!
What ever,,,,, 
http://www.indianarailwaymuseum.org/
Turn to the dark side!,,,,Penn Central 1968-1976
"from there to here, from here to there, funny things are everywhere.",,,,,Dr. Seuss
Turn to the dark side!,,,,Penn Central 1968-1976
"from there to here, from here to there, funny things are everywhere.",,,,,Dr. Seuss
Do you guys know about this site? Penn probably does.
http://prr.railfan.net/diagrams/PRRdiag ... &sz=sm&fr=
I have it book marked for the weight cars, but it does have M1 drawings. They are not works of art, but are OK for research drawings.
http://prr.railfan.net/diagrams/PRRdiag ... &sz=sm&fr=
I have it book marked for the weight cars, but it does have M1 drawings. They are not works of art, but are OK for research drawings.
----Wayne----
Back when I was growing up, if you didn't start someth'n, there wouldn't be noth'n.
--Merle Haggard
Back when I was growing up, if you didn't start someth'n, there wouldn't be noth'n.
--Merle Haggard
When I straddled the chopper to kick start it, one of the Skulls wandered over sipping a beer. “That thing is sick, man. I been checking it. A sick ride, no doubt. No way I’d be on that thing.” Fellow was a real confidence builder, though he said it as if it were a compliment. I had to admit it made me feel pretty tough. I ratcheted the starter lever to maximum compression and leapt down on the thing with all my weight. The engine only sighed. I was damp with sweat by the time the big twin caught and barked lopsidedly through the straight pipes. Buck and Felice had long since mounted. His bike had electric start.
“Hog’s Breath!” he called back, gunned up the driveway with a brown fantail of dirt.
I’d slipped in five or six cups of draft during the party, which eased my nervousness and made the ride north a tad more comfortable. Still, the chopper’s seat was like an iron banana. As I followed them, it was difficult to keep my eyes off Felice’s *** and splayed thighs, but I forced my concentration on the slanting evening light in the blossoming trees along the river road, and soon we were back in town.
The Hog’s Breath was in a back alley, an oversized Schlitz lantern beside the plywood door was all that marked it as a bar. More beer and I played a game of pool. Wendy had lips like bleeding fruit and a bulging chest trussed in black lace, a hundred crossed strings over sunburned skin. Felice watched us play as Buck did some business outside. After the game she came up to me.
“You like her?” she whispered. “You like the big tits like that?” Felice I imagined had delicate breasts out of an Egyptian painting.
“No, not really.”
She smiled. “So, you make up your mind?”
“About what?”
Buck walked back in, and she jerked away from me. This time he eyed me strangely. “Let’s get out of here,” he said. The coke seemed to make him impatient. I was very relaxed.
“What’s the hurry? Let’s drink a couple more.”
“I said we’re goin’.”
In the dusk, the Schlitz lantern was a soft amber, and there was a pathway of brilliant ultramarine above the sooty cornices. The beer lent the dreary town a wonderful nimbus of magnanimity. I clumsily went through the damn starting procedure. I had trouble keeping the bike upright while jumping on the starter and realized I’d only eaten beer since breakfast. But the engine fired, and I tailed them through the maze of narrow mill-town streets, the dusk embracing the tenements and the few lit signs of the neighborhood corner stores. I rounded one dark corner between five-story buildings, and there, in the center of the road, was a parked car. With desperate reflex I grabbed for the front brake. Nothing there, of course. This was not my Italian machine that stopped quicker than the thought. My right foot searched frantically for the rear brake as I attempted to turn.
“Hog’s Breath!” he called back, gunned up the driveway with a brown fantail of dirt.
I’d slipped in five or six cups of draft during the party, which eased my nervousness and made the ride north a tad more comfortable. Still, the chopper’s seat was like an iron banana. As I followed them, it was difficult to keep my eyes off Felice’s *** and splayed thighs, but I forced my concentration on the slanting evening light in the blossoming trees along the river road, and soon we were back in town.
The Hog’s Breath was in a back alley, an oversized Schlitz lantern beside the plywood door was all that marked it as a bar. More beer and I played a game of pool. Wendy had lips like bleeding fruit and a bulging chest trussed in black lace, a hundred crossed strings over sunburned skin. Felice watched us play as Buck did some business outside. After the game she came up to me.
“You like her?” she whispered. “You like the big tits like that?” Felice I imagined had delicate breasts out of an Egyptian painting.
“No, not really.”
She smiled. “So, you make up your mind?”
“About what?”
Buck walked back in, and she jerked away from me. This time he eyed me strangely. “Let’s get out of here,” he said. The coke seemed to make him impatient. I was very relaxed.
“What’s the hurry? Let’s drink a couple more.”
“I said we’re goin’.”
In the dusk, the Schlitz lantern was a soft amber, and there was a pathway of brilliant ultramarine above the sooty cornices. The beer lent the dreary town a wonderful nimbus of magnanimity. I clumsily went through the damn starting procedure. I had trouble keeping the bike upright while jumping on the starter and realized I’d only eaten beer since breakfast. But the engine fired, and I tailed them through the maze of narrow mill-town streets, the dusk embracing the tenements and the few lit signs of the neighborhood corner stores. I rounded one dark corner between five-story buildings, and there, in the center of the road, was a parked car. With desperate reflex I grabbed for the front brake. Nothing there, of course. This was not my Italian machine that stopped quicker than the thought. My right foot searched frantically for the rear brake as I attempted to turn.
Hey Jon ......
tryin' to dig up a picture. Was at the musuem today and talked to Kurt. We couldn't find a photo in the book with all the negitive numbers of the M.1.'s. He has all the info and he still going to keep looking and me to...............
on trying to find a picture.
The guy that found your info was one of the best. He was the ex president of The Baldwin Co. he donated some things to the PRR musuem here in Strasburg Kurt was tellin' me. So, the next time you come up here gonna have to call Petey and check out the museum and meet Kurt.
Are ya from the old school................... ............ Nice hog ........... 
............................where's the suicide shift................... .............. 
Tramp got your package................
Thanks bo...........that's some fine work. ............... 
Also like the little booklet. I liked the train scene.........
Ya need to do more of them........
Thanks again Bo
hev
tryin' to dig up a picture. Was at the musuem today and talked to Kurt. We couldn't find a photo in the book with all the negitive numbers of the M.1.'s. He has all the info and he still going to keep looking and me to...............
on trying to find a picture.
The guy that found your info was one of the best. He was the ex president of The Baldwin Co. he donated some things to the PRR musuem here in Strasburg Kurt was tellin' me. So, the next time you come up here gonna have to call Petey and check out the museum and meet Kurt.
Are ya from the old school...................
............ Nice hog ........... ............................where's the suicide shift................... ..............
Tramp got your package................
Thanks bo...........that's some fine work. ........
.......
Also like the little booklet. I liked the train scene.........
Ya need to do more of them........
Thanks again Bo
hev
Hev, I sent two in case you wanted to modify one and then compare it to the original. The color didn't come out that great, but it will change with the ink color anyway. Are you still going to do it?
Hev, I quit art six years ago. Haven't touched a drop since and I feel great.
Jon, great shot of you and the chopper. Do you have any others?
Anyone still drink beer in this Jungle?
Hev, I quit art six years ago. Haven't touched a drop since and I feel great.
Jon, great shot of you and the chopper. Do you have any others?
Anyone still drink beer in this Jungle?
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