Hobo Jungle
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P&R Pete
Better be careful, Mitch. Rumor is around town that a hobo with shades was seen heading up those steps with a lady midget stripper wrestler.
I dunno though, pretty frigid tonight. If I bring a six-pack to chase the Southern, and split the rent, mind if'n I sleep in the corner? Hell, maybe there's more hobos down by the yard, we could get a card game going. More bodies might supplement the trickle of tepid water goes through that radiator.
'Course, maybe that wuz YOU with the shades, and ya gots all the company ya want!!
I dunno though, pretty frigid tonight. If I bring a six-pack to chase the Southern, and split the rent, mind if'n I sleep in the corner? Hell, maybe there's more hobos down by the yard, we could get a card game going. More bodies might supplement the trickle of tepid water goes through that radiator.
'Course, maybe that wuz YOU with the shades, and ya gots all the company ya want!!
Jimmy looked up now at Doris Callahan’s black windows. She went to bed early and was obsessed with saving electricity, refusing to leave on even a hall light. With the package of pork loin under his arm, he walked past the monolithic white posts of a porte cochere, their bases brown with rot. One bare bulb hung in the center of the sagged ceiling, a clumsy star of shadows on the ground and stone steps. It was Doris’s single lighting extravagance, and he’d had to beg for it. He closed the elliptical-paned front door with a tender click, entered the dark hall, thumbed on the newel post light, an acorn of amber, and mounted the wide stairs. The house had that smell of age. Dust, wax, varnished wood, molting curtains, worn-out stair runner, dry air breathed a thousand times—who knew? Half way down the second-floor hall he managed to unlock his door by feel with an old-fashioned iron key. On the bottom step, a massive yellow tom with a missing ear arched his back in greeting, letting loose a hoarse baying as Jimmy reached down to scratch him. Together they tiptoed up the steep stairs to his rented rooms. His heavy boots weren’t ideal for this, but Doris insisted on quiet, so he did his best.
He entered his sanctum. Four gable windows and a windowed turret at one end that peered over the city. Jimmy was always drawn to this view like a knight on his ramparts. The dark river bisected an undulating drape of lights organized into bright lines leading to the two bridges, a few dots of taillight and headlight even this late still meandering up the main streets, the storm clouds saturated by an orange glow as if by fire, though nothing like the icy January night he’d watched a neighborhood of tenements burn to the ground. Near the river hulked the embattlements, the tomblike fortresses of textile and shoe factories, long bitter rows of abandoned brick and steel skeleton like a monstrous freight train shunted to a river siding and forgotten. The black heart of the town. A couple of these buildings had recently been renovated into commercial space, but remained empty and lifeless. Over weak tea at her kitchen table, Doris Callahan had told Jimmy the story of the mills closing. But he’d half listened. The plight of Scoggton wasn’t his concern. Actually, he didn’t give a rat’s *** about it. He was only holed up here because it was lost and because Chevalier had been from Maine.
He entered his sanctum. Four gable windows and a windowed turret at one end that peered over the city. Jimmy was always drawn to this view like a knight on his ramparts. The dark river bisected an undulating drape of lights organized into bright lines leading to the two bridges, a few dots of taillight and headlight even this late still meandering up the main streets, the storm clouds saturated by an orange glow as if by fire, though nothing like the icy January night he’d watched a neighborhood of tenements burn to the ground. Near the river hulked the embattlements, the tomblike fortresses of textile and shoe factories, long bitter rows of abandoned brick and steel skeleton like a monstrous freight train shunted to a river siding and forgotten. The black heart of the town. A couple of these buildings had recently been renovated into commercial space, but remained empty and lifeless. Over weak tea at her kitchen table, Doris Callahan had told Jimmy the story of the mills closing. But he’d half listened. The plight of Scoggton wasn’t his concern. Actually, he didn’t give a rat’s *** about it. He was only holed up here because it was lost and because Chevalier had been from Maine.
------------------Porte-Cochere------------------
...he walked past the monolithic white posts of a porte cochere, their bases brown with rot. One bare bulb hung in the center of the sagged ceiling...
Fantastic writing skill Tramp! I can imagine a model railroad created with scenes from your word images.
----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
I'll take a double!
"There is no limit to what a man can do or where he can go if he doesn’t mind who gets the credit."
MartyE.com and KodiakJunction.com Home to Kodiak Junction U.S.A.
MartyE.com and KodiakJunction.com Home to Kodiak Junction U.S.A.
In the early 1940s, the New York Central added another 115 4-8-2s to its fleet of Mohawks, in classes L3 and L4, bringing the total number to 600. The 15 engines of class L3b, Nos. 3035-3049, were built by Lima Locomotive Works in 1940. They weighed 393,500 pounds and mustered a tractive effort of 60,100 pounds, with a booster adding 14,000 pounds They had 25½x30-inch cylinders, a boiler pressure of 250 pounds per square inch, and 69-inch Boxpok disc drivers. The L3 Mohawks had a grate area of 75.3 square feet and an evaporative heating surface of 4676 square feet.
Unlike the new power being ordered by most railroads at the time, the L3s still featured the alligator-type crosshead. The NYC finally went for the multiple-bearing crosshead on the L4b class of 1943, as well as the post-World War II Niagara 4-8-4s and the Pittsburgh & Lake Erie 2-8-4s. These newer Mohawks were primarily freight haulers for the "Water Level Route," but were dual service engines and often saw passenger service. Their tenders were equipped to scoop water from the track pans along the New York Central's main lines. Many newer Mohawks were later fitted with "elephant ear" smoke deflectors, missing in this Lima builder's photo.
Unlike the new power being ordered by most railroads at the time, the L3s still featured the alligator-type crosshead. The NYC finally went for the multiple-bearing crosshead on the L4b class of 1943, as well as the post-World War II Niagara 4-8-4s and the Pittsburgh & Lake Erie 2-8-4s. These newer Mohawks were primarily freight haulers for the "Water Level Route," but were dual service engines and often saw passenger service. Their tenders were equipped to scoop water from the track pans along the New York Central's main lines. Many newer Mohawks were later fitted with "elephant ear" smoke deflectors, missing in this Lima builder's photo.
Running that red block Charlie.
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San Diegan
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