My Old Employer: Another Train Wreck

Here's a bulletin from VIA's web site:

July 30, 2008

"Toronto - VIA Rail Canada wishes to advise travellers that due to an early morning CN freight derailment near Kingston, all morning train service between Toronto –Montreal and Toronto – Ottawa in both directions, are being replaced by buses.

The seven-car freight derailment has blocked both tracks of CN’s main line. VIA is awaiting confirmation from CN as to when line clearance is expected.

As a result, VIA is currently arranging alternate transportation for all ticketed passengers travelling on all morning trains.

VIA sincerely regrets any inconvenience this disruption may cause to its passengers and will revert to its normal service as soon as the rail line is reopened. Customers wishing further information may visit our website viarail.ca or call 1 888-VIA RAIL (842-7245).

Further updates will be issued as required."

---

Looks like I'll be heading off to Montreal this afternoon, Ms J ... by bus.

CN. Couldn't happen to a nicer railroad.

***

Trains and Trees

I've completed the Ottawa portion of my training. Yesterday was the last trip. And it nearly ended with a bang about forty-five miles east of Toronto, as we headed home through a violent thunderstorm. It's been a wet summer here, Ms J. Thunderstorms have been common lately.

"I can't see a thing," I said, squinting through the blurry windshield.

The air-powered wiper was swishing as fast as it could go, but still visibility remained near zero in the darkness. The locomotive headlight only made things worse. I considered dimming it, but regulations require headlights be displayed at full brightness except at passenger stations and when meeting other trains.

"We're alright," said Nevin. "It's only a bit of rain. I've seen worse."

So had I, Ms J, but not at ninety-five miles per hour.

Near Oshawa, we rounded a long right-hand curve and suddenly there came a tremendous CRACK! It sounded like a rifle shot.

"OWWW!" I cried. "What the hell was that?!"

The windshield in front of me was damaged - badly damaged. Dozens of crooked lines stretched across the glass like long spider legs. As I applied the brake and began to slow down, I searched my mind to recall what had happened. It was a tree branch. I remembered seeing a large, leafy branch. It must have been blown across the tracks by the storm.

"Are you OK?" asked Nevin.

"Yeah," I said. "I'm fine. We hit a tree, I think."

The radio crackled to Life.

"Enginemen on VIA 49, this is the service manager calling, over."

Nevin grabbed the radio handset and pressed the button.

"I think I know what you're going to say. We hit a tree up here. Broke the windshield. Is there any damage back there?"

The man wasn't sure, but there'd been a loud bang that had startled the passengers. He was going to investigate.

I scanned the digital gauges on the CRT screens in front of me. Air pressures and electrical systems were normal. We still had our air brakes and electrical functions. But the windshield! The wiper arm had stopped in mid swing, crushed and mangled against the glass. I leaned forward and ran my fingers gently over the inside of the windshield.

"Is it broken right through?" asked Nevin. "Are both panes broken?"

"No," I said. "Only the outer one."

Locomotives are equipped with safety glass, Ms J. Two panes of shatter-proof glass. It saved my Life.

Later, as we stood on the platform in Toronto's Union Station, we inspected the damage more closely. The entire right-side windshield was broken. The wing mirror was shattered. The small compressor room window on the side of the locomotive was broken. And one window on the first coach was badly smashed, a piece of wood a foot long and as round as my wrist was still embedded like a dagger in the glass.

In thirty years at CN, nothing like this ever happened. But after only a month at VIA ...

I love my new job, Ms J. It's very exciting. I thank God for my new job. And I am grateful as well, for shatter-proof glass.



(It was a train just like this one. Click to enlarge the image.)

***

Another of Life's Great Ironies

Saturday night, already! Where has this week gone, Ms J?! I can't believe how quickly time flies since I began training here at VIA. That's VEE-yah, incidentally, not VYE-yah. And yes, the days slip by so quickly now. Ottawa, hotel room, breakfast, return to Mimico. Rest, visit Colleen, then race back to Ottawa. It's a bit of a grind at times, but I'm doing fairly well, I think. I've completed nine round trips now and I'm becoming a bit more confident each time. I'm actually beginning to enjoy it!

But here's the irony:

Back in the dark days when I still worked for BBRC, (that's the Black-hearted Bastard Railway of Canada, Ms J. Remember?) I was faced with the prospect of training people to operate our GO trains. I was uncomfortable with the idea, to say the least.

"I'm not training those Bombardier pricks so they can steal our jobs!" I wailed. "As a matter of fact, I refuse to train ANYONE. Screw 'em. All of 'em. And the BBRC as well."

And yet, Ms Journal, and yet ...

Here I am at VIA, grinning humbly and fully expecting to be trained. Many of the hoggers I'll train with at VIA are guys with less seniority than I have. Nevin, for instance. He's way junior to me. When I'm finally qualified, I'll have the right to displace him off his Ottawa job and force him to bump onto another assignment. Nevin knows this, but still agrees to train me. Frankly, I doubt I will bump him. My conscience would never allow it. But that's not the point, is it? The point I'm making here is simply this:

I refused to train engineers at BBRC, but still expect to be trained by VIA guys.

Ironic? You bet.
Hypocritical? Clearly.
Another lesson learned?

Another lesson learned??

Yeah, Ms J. Another helping of humble pie.

Napkin, please.

***

Faith and Hope

This is really hard, Ms J. Learning how to operate a VIA train is hard work. I don't recall feeling as overwhelmed when I was learning how to operate GO trains or even freight trains. There's so much territory to learn.

I rounded a curve west of Kingston yesterday afternoon and faced into the setting sun. We were travelling toward Toronto at precisely 101 miles per hour.

"What's next?" asked my trainer, Nevin.

I lowered my eyes and scoured my notebook, franticly searching for some clue as to what the next point of restriction might be. A station stop? A change in the speed limit? Some restriction perhaps, required by the latest issue of train order. I picked a page from the console in front of me and began quickly to scan it.

"Whistle crossing," said Nevin.

I looked up just in time to blow the whistle to warn highway traffic of our approach.

"The answer," said Nevin, his deep voice clearly audible over the low rumble of the locomotive, "is not in your notes." He pointed to the windshield. "It's out there."

I took a deep breath and exhaled loudly.

"Out there?"

"Yup. Don't spend too much time with yer nose in the books. Watch where yer going. Things happen fast at a hundred miles an hour."

We crested a small hill and suddenly a curve loomed ahead.

"Seventy per in the curve," he said. "Better put the brake on. Do it now. Seventy."

I pushed the brake handle forward a little, releasing a loud whoosh of air. In a moment, I could feel the train shudder slightly as the brakes applied on the five coaches behind us. I hoped it was enough. I watched anxiously as the speedometer responded. 98. 94. 91. I pushed the T-handle a quarter inch further and released more air from the system. 86. 82. The giant locomotive swung into the curve. At 75, I pulled the small handle toward me and released the brake. It takes a moment for it to respond along 600 feet of train and the speedometer settled finally, at 69. I looked at Nevin and grinned.

"Not bad," he said. "But you should have seen the advance speed sign. That curve is seventy." His thumb shot past his ear. "They're serving red wine and tea back there. You have to be gentle."

I nodded gravely.

"Yeah. I saw the sign, but I wasn't sure if it was for this curve or the next one. The next curve is the one where --"

"Whistle post," said Nevin pointing again at the windshield.

A metal post bearing a large black "W" streaked past. I pressed down hard on the whistle button to sound the required signal. Two long blasts, one short, then another long one. Two young men on bicycles hurried across the track ahead of us and seconds later we hurtled over the crossing. Ding-ding-ding went the warning bells.

It's about 290 miles from Mimico to Ottawa. There are a lot of curves, Ms J, a lot of crossings. There are a lot of speed changes and signals and switches. There are thirteen stations where we stop for passengers. And it all looks quite different from the opposite direction. In a week or two, my supervisor will decide I've trained long enough on the Ottawa route and move me elsewhere. Windsor maybe. Or Montreal. Or Sarnia. I'm told there's about 1700 miles of track in total. I must learn to find my way along all of it, eventually. I have thirty years of railway experience, yet I feel like a teddy bear - a new employee - again.

Others have done it. Others, less intelligent than I, have learned it and have qualified successfully at VIA. I can do this. I will do it. I will do it, too.

I must remember to have faith in my own ability to learn. I must trust that others will show patience and help me as I go. They, too, have experienced the same sense of frustration and helplessness when they first came to work at VIA. I will learn to be a proficient and confident engineer here, Ms J. But it will happen in God's time, and not mine.

I'd better go downstairs now and make a sandwich to take with me. I'm off again to Ottawa in two hours.

***

Catching Up

It’s the last of my days off. I'm off to Ottawa again tomorrow afternoon. I'll stay overnight in Ottawa and return again to Mimico around dinner time on Saturday. The assignment on which I’m currently training has two days off one week and four off the next. It’s an odd sort of arrangement. I believe most VIA jobs work that way. Some have four days off every week. Others have only two off. Few jobs here have weekends off. I suppose Saturday and Sunday are prime travel days.

During my last few years at CN, I enjoyed weekends free. Yes, I did spend a year on the spareboard with no scheduled time off, but even then, I had a few weekends to myself. On the GO trains, I always had weekends off. Really, Ms J, those GO jobs were the best I ever had at CN. I worked split shifts and had time off during the day. I worked four hours, then came home for a nap! I doubt things will ever be like that at VIA. So far, all my trips here have been eight hours on duty, give or take a few minutes.

---

I received Meagan’s report card in the mail the other day. It was brilliant! She scored lowest in Science with a 72%. The other subjects – Math, Civics, and English were all 80’s and 90’s. Included in the package was a silver edged certificate declaring Meagan Pringle an “Honours” student having achieved an overall average of 83.5%.

I phoned her to offer congratulations and to tell her again how proud I am of her. I wish so much she’d come home to me and return to school at LCI in September. She told me she’s happy with RJ and doing well. RJ is still working and I guess they’re paying their rent on time.

“Don’t worry, Dad,” she told me. “I’m fine, really. And I’ll be going back to school here in Georgetown. I promise.”

I’m glad she’s happy, Ms Journal. And I believe she’ll return to school. I just wish she’d live here with me. I miss my daughter.

I miss my son, too. But that's a story for another day.

***

Getting There

They say getting there is half the fun, Ms J, and I agree. Often the journey is more enjoyable than the destination itself. Making Love with Colleen is a prime example. She's an avid reader of these pages, however, so I'll offer no further detail on that topic. Sorry, Ms J, but some things are too personal even for you.

Ahem. Now, where was I? Yes, the journey. That's right.

I've been learning a new job. As you know, I've been successful in transferring from CN to VIA. CN is a freight railway. VIA is Canada's national passenger carrier. It's different here at VIA, Ms J, much different. Yes, it's still steel wheels on steel rails, that's true. But the resemblance ends there.

The equipment is different. Locomotives and rail cars here are specially designed for high speed passenger service. Prolonged, high speed passenger service. The territory is all new to me, as well. It's all terra incognita. I've been training on the Ottawa corridor. Our train stops now at places like Belleville and Kingston, Nappanee and Gananoque, Trenton Junction and Smiths Falls.

The scenery along the way is lovely: Verdant pastures where Holstein cattle calmly graze. Fields of feathery barley. Wheat and oats. Sunny yellow canola. Rows of corn standing straight and stoic in the summer sun. Further along, agriculture gives way to vast expanses of wilderness. There are deer there, Ms J, and black bear. Fox. Wolves. Swampy muskeg contains beaver lodges and muskrats and turtles. Majestic wading birds like the Great Blue Heron and Snowy Egret stand in shallow pools patiently waiting for dinner to swim by. It's all quite lovely, really. Too bad I can't see it.

My eyes are on the track ahead of us. Signals and other key landmarks whisk by at 100 miles per hour. That's 5280 feet, Ms Journal, every 38 seconds. The whistle must be sounded at least 1/4 mile from road crossings. Better not miss a whistle post and forget to blow. If we were to collide with a car or pedestrian at a road crossing ... I shudder to think of it. I must read my train orders and be prepared to slow for sections of track in need of repair. I must remember to use brake and throttle gently in order to provide our passengers a smooth ride. Now the radio crackles to Life. The on-board service manager wants to know how long before we reach Ottawa. And of course the stations. I mustn't forget where the stations are. Is this one Fallowfield? Is this a whistle crossing or only bell? What's the speed limit here? Oh shit. OK. Sorry. Where's the station? Is it around this curve or the ... Uh-oh. Gently with the brake now. Gently. But it takes so long to stop!

Nevin is my trainer. He's very nice. Nevin has operated VIA trains for fifteen years. He knows what he's doing. He makes it look so easy.

"Don't worry, Dale," he tells me in his baritone voice. "It always seems overwhelming at first. Trust me, though. You're doing fine. In a few weeks, you'll be an old hand at this."

I doubt that, Ms J. And just as I begin to feel confident in the Ottawa corridor, my supervisor will order me to leave Nevin and train somewhere else. The Montreal route, maybe. Or Windsor. Or Sarnia.

They say getting there is half the fun. Right now, "getting there" is an incredible challenge. I'll keep plugging away at it, though. I'll keep training and learning and do my very best to be a good VIA hogger. I may never be as good as Nevin, or as relaxed but hopefully, one day, I'll be good enough to be able to admire the scenery.

***

Checkin' In

Hello, Ms J. Happy Canada Day! The weather here in little ol' Mimico is absolutely perfect for Canada Day celebrations. All round the neighbourhood, people are tending barbecues and sipping cool beverages. And in Ottawa, the federal government plans to delight and dazzle onlookers with a $100,000 fireworks display over the Ottawa River. I'll bet it's a fabulous show! Too bad I'm in little ol' Mimico.

My training at VIA is progressing ... slowly. I spent last week in a Montreal classroom with four other engineer trainees. We were instructed on the various features and functions of train cars and locomotives - troubleshooting techniques and familiarization. Terrible tedious it was, Ms J, for the most part, but necessary in the event of en route incidents or breakdowns. I did, however, enjoy my stay in Montreal. It's really an exciting city with a definite European atmosphere.

I've just now returned from a trip to Ottawa. I arrived there last night and spent the night in a lovely hotel ... somewhere in the suburbs I think. It was near a shopping mall - "The St. Laurent Centre" - or something like that. I really don't know exactly. We were delivered by taxi from the nearby train station. We turned the train around to face west and this morning, I climbed the ladder to the locomotive cab for the return trip to Mimico. We made a few stops along the way, Ms J. The trip takes about five hours at speeds that reach 100 mph.

I haven't actually operated a VIA train yet. So far, I've only sat and watched. And when you're covering a distance of one mile every 38 seconds, it's OK to sit and observe for a while. This job is much tougher than my old one. But I'm feeling a little more confident each time and soon I'll be expected to try my hand on the throttle.

There's about a thousand miles of track to learn, three different styles of passenger coach and two different types of locomotives. I won't learn it all in a few weeks. No one does. I like it, though. I do enjoy the challenge.

Colleen supports me and loves me and can't wait to see me when I return. I feel the same about her. This relationship is good, Ms J. It's really, really good.

So tonight, I'll shower and shave and go collect Colleen and Ivy. The three of us will go off in search of a choice vantage spot from which to watch tonight's fireworks over Lake Ontario. The display will be grand, I'm sure, but probably not as spectacular as the one in our nation's capital.

I love my job. I love my home. I love my Colleen and her little Ivy. Meagan is fine. RJ is fine. Dan is with his mother most weekends so I rarely see him. But generally, Life is good.

It's been a LONG time since I've written (or even thought) these words, Ms J, but I'll write them now.

I LOVE MY LIFE!

***