Tuesday, May 31, 2016

Moran State Park Part 4

Oh wait, it's over there. We found campsite #40 nestled on a perch of land overlooking Cascade Lake. It was a stunning campsite equipped with a fire ring and picnic table. Surely the park service allowing all of these amenities made a mistake that we were fortunate enough to take advantage of. We backed the gold Ford Focus into position trunk first like a long snapper setting up for the game winning field goal to win the championship. We popped the trunk to efficiently and quickly unload the camp gear. There were no wasted motions. We were like an experienced kitchen line in the middle of a Saturday dinner rush. Stakes, pounded them. Tent sticks, straightened them. Air mattresses, inflated. in roughly 15 seconds the site went from barren to five star accommodations. We sat in our camp chairs and admired our work.

The laborious campsite construction had left me a bit peckish. I made a sandwich of the finest Safeway peanut butter and sliced up a banana to put inside the sandwich. The ratio of peanut butter, banana and bread would've made Elvis weep on his sequined jumpsuit. 






I ate that sandwich in four bites and Brad did the same with his. Now everyone knows after eating peanut butter and banana sandwiches you're sugar level is going to spike and you'll need activity. Since we didn't have thousands of screaming fans to sing to and having left our sequin jumpsuits at home we decided to do the next best thing. Take our peanuty energy and 24 inch pythons and hike around the lake brother! We only knew roughly where the trail head might be but for two pioneers of the foot path we threw caution to the wind and said "It's probably this way." It was that way. Soon enough we were on the trail. The trees were magnificent. The air was pure. The dirt was...not that interesting. Pretty much standard dirt. We spotted a bridge in the distance and decided to check it out to make sure it was working properly. Onward to the bridge! The trail was simple and flat in most places with slight grading. Not too challenging but scenic nonetheless.

We finally reached the bridge about fifteen minutes later and spotted a lone fisherman standing on the bridge throwing his line. We tiptoed passed him as to not scare away the fish while admiring his already bountiful haul. It was a freshwater breed we were familiar with having an abundant stock in our region. It was short, stocky, mostly silver with patches of blue and red. He had caught a healthy supply already and was clearly having a lucky day of fishing at the lake. 


We crossed the bridge and headed up a small hill with a rocky bluff overlooking the lake. We had nowhere to be and all the time to get there. So we sat down to take in the wilderness and all of it's freshness. After a while of relaxing and admiring the lake I decided to guess how far of a drop it would be from the rocks to the water. I estimated 40-50 feet but the only way to know for sure was to get closer to the edge and peer over. So that's what I did. Looking over and doing calculations for science the worst possible thing happened for people that wish to wear dry clothes. I slipped! I reached out for something to hang on to and caught a small twig. This was not my plan but luckily I had seen Raiders of the Lost Ark a few dozen times so I knew what to do. 




To be continued.

Sunday, May 29, 2016

Job Experience

After moving back to Washington I quickly realized that I needed to get a job.  I had bills to pay, or more precisely I had comic books to buy and gas for a very large car.  So I got a job at good ol' Discovery Zone.  Unfortunately shortly after I left the whole company went bankrupt.  I am not saying that if they kept my I could have saved them but the world will never know.  For those that do not remember what Discovery Zone was think about a burger joint playground.  There were tunnels to climb through, ball pits to splash in, obstacle courses to conquer and cushioned hills to climb.  They had rooms for parties and a couple of pinball machines in the corner.  It was really geared towards a being a safe place to bring younger kids so they could burn off all their energy.

While it was geared to younger kids something else entirely happened once the doors were locked and the kids went home.  From time to time we (as young adults) needed to burn off a little bit of our energy.  So we turned the entire play area into a giant game of hot lava tag.  The only rules seemed to be that we could not touch the floor, with the exception being the obstacle course area.  We would climb up the bars and leap from area to area.  We would have a blast and to my knowledge no one got hurt all that badly.  Maybe a sprained ankle or something minor but for what we were doing it is amazing that no one came away with something torn or broken.

I worked there for a couple of years through out high school until finally making the transition to an adult job in the military.  Looking back on my time there, while it was not the most fulfilling career that I have had it was enjoyable non the less.

Scott

# 100 Indy

It's been 26 years now since I was fortunate enough to attend the Indy 500 race. What a weekend that was.

I was the guest of the Cummins Engine company when I was working for Safeway. I had gone to the factory a few days early in the week to work on a project that I was doing. These folks knew how to make the Indy weekend first class.

The Saturday before the race, the Cummins group traveled to Churchhill Down. The Kentucky derby runs a couple weeks before the Indy. We watched the horse races at this historic track, made a few bets, drank some mint jullips, and had a fine lunch in one of the private suites overlooking the track.

Sunday. Race day! Up at 4 AM on off to the buses. On each seat there was a cooler with lunch to eat at the track, (2 sandwiches, some fruit, 2 beers, 2 softdrinks, and cookies). Also there was a earphone radio, digital stopwatch, some ear protection, a jacket, tee-shirt and ball cap for the day.

Off to the city of Indianapolis, our bus convoy of 5 buses had a street to stage on. We arrived and waited there about 20 minutes for our motorcycle police escort to the town of Speedway, where the track was built. There was a reserved lane for the police escorted busses passing the other lanes of cars and other buses working their way to the track.

We parked and went to our seats Our group was spread out all over, but I had a host Cummins family that I had seats with . We were high over the #2 turn. When you see the race, you'll see some seats higher than the main stands. That's were we were.

The pre-race action has bands, parade cars, and military groups that circled the track. Behind our stands was the golf course. Suddenly the sound of heavy helicopters were heard, and a fleet of 3 US Marine helos flared and landed on the course. Sure enough the vice president  Dan Quayle. He was from Indiana and came for the race. Other VIPs were landing with helicopters in a steady stream up at the far end of the course.

Finally the time to race arrived. Out of sight from our perch we heard the engines fire after the iconic 'Gentlemen Start your Engines; command. soon after the pace car lead the cars around the track. At each corner when the cars passed, the balloons were released make a real show. Also on the first parade lap, the safety crews line up on the track to give a thumbs up to the drivers as they pass.

Green flag. Wow, those cars are fast. You don't see the car as much as the color of the car as it passes. They start bunched up but soon you see a series of small races as cars vie for one more position on the track. When a lead changes, you can hear the crowd yell (there are over 300,000 people at the track), and sure enough the color of the lead car changed. Impossible to read numbers or sponsor logos, it was the color you saw.

Hard to imagine, on a 2.5 mile track is that the leader comes by your seat about every 45 seconds! Zoom Zoom. It was a day I still remember fondly. Even if you are not a car race fan, the experience of an Indy 500 race belongs on your bucket list.

Dad

Friday, May 27, 2016

Woodland Park Memories #6


During my time at Woodland Park, it was an open joke as to just how many pictures and movies that I was at least a bit player in. Sometimes it seemed that every family had a camera and many had those new fangled Kodak Super 8 mm movie cameras. I sure wish I had a small sample of those pictures now.

Families, especially fathers with those new movie cameras would go to great lengths to get that perfect shot of their little darlings waving as the train went by. I'd find parents climbing fences, hiding under the bridge supports, and sometimes standing up in the moving train all to get better angles of their kids day at the park. (That last drew a reprimand).

Day's would go by with nothing out of the normal range as far as the people were concerned. Normal in the open park sense meant folks rushing your train at the station for a perfect seat, people running to get past you as you entered the station, kids trying to wreck you, just the routine.

At that time Woodland Park Zoo didn't have a entrance fee, and it was basically open to anyone all of the time. Well and good, but it did create a lot of unaccompanied children to be wary off. Most folks visiting the park were great, but there were often a few percentage points worth of mischief makers.

People would attempt to jump on the train without a ticket pretty often. More than a few got away with it if they did it at the station, during a slow to medium busy day when I was both engineer as well as the ticket taker. There were no passenger holding areas, fenced or otherwise, just the open platform area. On really busy days, I'd have one, or even 2 other workers who would handle the job of taking tickets so that I could make more runs during the day. On some of those days, I rarely left my cab completely and seldom had a lunch break. Those extra hands also helped advise the people waiting to stand back as I came into the station and discouraged free loaders.

At most, there were 2 of us that were OK'd for train engineer duty. When one of us was not driving the train, he (no girls ever worked the park rides during my time), would likely be doing maintenance work on one ride or other, or would circulate around the other rides giving lunch or break relief.

At other times, a more serious situation could arise when kids would try to jump on the moving train somewhere out on the run. This was very dangerous, as while the train was small, a trip or fall could easily do serious injury to the child.  When I noticed this going on, (I likely missed a lot, can't look backwards all the time), I would stop the train and go back and confront the kids. Most often they would head out as fast as they could run, but once in a while they stuck around and I made a point to tell them how dangerous this as. That usually stopped the problem, at least with that batch of kids.

What happened once in a while was if one group of kids made it onto the train, like aq virus, they would form a posse and have groups of friends doing this all over the place. This called for a shotgun rider on the back of the last car, the 'observation' car with a rounded rear end with a flat surface on top. I'd ask the ticket helper or if I didn't have one, I'd ask one of the other workers to take a couple of runs with me to calm things down. The deterrent effect of this worked well, and gave the shotgun worker a chance to break his routine by running around the park after the would be Jesse James gangs.

Parents, gotta love em. One day, during the period of the leaking fluid coupling described earlier, some family was walking around the front of the train to walk down into the amusement area. This was not a regular entrance, but enough folks did go down the hill separating the track grade from the (lower) Kiddeland level that it wasn't worth any effort to stop it as long as the train wasn't moving.

One day, and I swear this is a true story, a father yelled his kids name with more then a bit of panic in his voice, and literally snatched him off of the ground as he was walking around the front of the engine, after his train ride, as he heading down to the park. The father then proceeded to yell at his kid to say just how dangerous that was. I thought at first his concern was for his kid to be in front of the idling engine, but read on.

The father said that he could be killed stepping onto the tracks as the train was electric! I guess the father had model trains at home, and figured that's how we did it too. Yep, running lethal high voltage on the two rail track running for a couple of miles through a unfenced public park, that's what we do! He must have figured that we had a great imitation sound system to replicate the twin gas engine noises and a movie set quality smoke and fume generator to pretend we had oily smells and exhaust fumes coming from the engines. Those Wisconsin's have a great working sound, and I shake my head and relate that story often.

I didn't have the heart to interfere. He was heading out of the park anyway. I can assure you with some confidence say that we never, ever, electrocuted anyone at the park with the train rails.

(More Later)

Dad

Thursday, May 26, 2016

Moran State Park Part 3

The ship had struck something. This was what we had feared. The great Orca beast had stopped us in our tracks. The ship wasn't moving at all. Dear lord there must be a pod of them no less than 30 just waiting to turn the Hyak over and gobble us up like the last shrimp at a party that doesn't serve enough shrimp. We took note of the nearest land and went forth to the port bow to hurl curse words and coffee cups at our bloodthirsty hunters. What we saw next was unexpected. The vessel had not hit a pod of killers but a ferry dock bumper. We looked at each other, "Is there a stop before Orcas Island?" I said. "There is" replied Brad. "Lopez Island." 


So we meet again Lopez Island. A land having produced nothing greater then a bunch of dodgy barmpots and manky, po-faced trollops. With any luck we would be rid of this foul land soon and on our way to Orcas Island. A land that despite sharing a name with a savage, killer monstrosity was known to be a habitat of good and principled blokes. We couldn't get there soon enough. We departed the detestable isle and continued on with visions of shimmering lakes and flame scorched frankfurters dancing in our heads. After a long 37 minutes we docked at the lavish and superior Orcas Island. We gave a wink to the Captain standing proudly on the deck of the great Hyak and went below deck to find the gold Ford Focus. 


After a few short minutes we were off the boat with the freakish, monster Orcas behind us and up the hill towards Moran State Park. We made our way across farms laid out like almond slivers on a danish crafted by the hand of master Danish danish baker. It was enchanting. We turned the corner and could almost smell the sweet scent of paradise and freedom. The lake then appeared as almost out of nowhere. It grabbed our attention like the boss asking for your thoughts during a meeting when you were only half paying attention. We couldn't look away. It had us. 



We could have gazed into that splendid hole of h2o the rest of the night or until it got too dark to see, however we had a mission that wasn't yet complete and failing that would mean disaster. We had to find our campsite with no directions or cell phone coverage. Not since Hannibal and his Carthaginian army had crossed the alps during the Second Punic War had humans come face to face with such improbable odds reaching a destination. 



We knew the likelihood that not all of us would make it. That was what we signed up for. The glory that comes with claiming a piece of land of our own for 48 hours was worth any price. The thoughts of getting lost or trapped and never coming back at all was pushed to the back of our mind like a jar of old pickles in a fraternity house refrigerator. We continued on. But the campsite...was nowhere to be found.







To be continued.

Google Inspired Me

Google's home page is fantastic today. Since I haven't finished any books lately (as I am in the midst of quite a few), I decided to diverge from my usual topic. Today I will share some videos of my favorite dance routines. 

This first was a competition. I first saw this video around 2012. It is a variation on swing dancing called the Lindy Hop. While showy at times with fantastical "swings" jumps or leaps, it is the quickness of the feet that impresses me most. Especially when the two dancers move in perfect unison. Enjoy this video of flashy pomp and whimsical fun.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=myJj0mNNe1Y


This next video is by a duo, Keone and Mariel. They have other dances that are more showy, but I enjoy this one because of how well the choreography reflects and the music. The song, of course, is by Bob Marley. If you enjoy this dance, you may enjoy the higher energy dance done by them to the song Happy.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JEhY-b_Ih6A

This is from a dance competition as well. They are performing a Slow Waltz. They way they glide, it seems effortless. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ksboZgVHx7c

Next we have Fred Astaire's Famous Ceiling Dance. If you haven't seen this yet, you are in for a treat. Astaire is iconic and he really nails this routine.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CsoYyDlYU8M

And no dance video list could be complete without Sylvester. Enough said.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L1r5f_vufIs

I hope you enjoyed this list of dance videos!

Cheers,

-Bradley



Wednesday, May 25, 2016

Moran State Park Part 2

Everything was packed so we headed into the gold Ford Focus and focused it right towards the Anacortes ferry terminal at top allowable government dictated speed. Why is it called Anacortes? Sounds like Ana Cortes which sounds Spanish like San Juan Islands or Strait of Juan De Fuca so let's say that is accurate and not bother looking it up.

We reached the ferry terminal and the ticket lady said five of the most ominous words in the English language, "Do you have a reservation?" "Of course we do not have a reservation" we replied. "You can probably make it" she said and charged us for a ticket after we assured her we weren't smuggling anyone in the trunk. We boarded the vessel Hyak after a few anxious minutes and headed to the top level to make sure the captain had everything under control. He looked nervous. After assuring the Captain the crew had confidence in him he regained his composure and said he'd do his best not to rock the boat. Satisfied, we headed starboard side to admire the view of the magnificent San Juans.

The grey clouds hovered over us like a micro manager in a tiny coffee shop. What was the weather doing? We looked to the oldest nautical forecasting instrument in the history of man. No not a barometer. Nor a weather vane. More accurate than that. The most reliable instrument of all. A thick sea beard.





Bradley's beard was listing south and slightly east which everyone knows means smooth sailing. Thank Poseidon it wasn't south west or ye might never hear this tale be told. After this news of good fortune we relaxed to chew the fat and drink coffee. The voyage would be a success, as long as we could safely avoid the one remaining threat to crew and passenger. The great black and white sea beast. A creature so ruthless. So murderous and with such a cold heart the natives would barely whisper it's name....Orca.





To be continued...

Oregon

You have to hand it to Oregon. You buy something for $4, you only have the pay the lady $4. Not $4.48 or some other nonsense.
I'll never get used to it.
Dad

Tuesday, May 24, 2016

Moran State Park

What do you get when you combine a rags to riches story American of hard work, foresight to provide something for future generations to drool on, a wonderland of Pacific Northwest beauty equal only to the Elf village Rivendell in Lord of the Rings, a few pounds of mouthwatering smoked meat, a gaggle of freaking geese, a colony of bats, a RV driving wizard with a magic staff and two Corcoran's with the moxie to set up camp? You get...


 Camp Out 5/21-5/23 2016!
 


We started this party loading Firewood! Tents! Sleeping bags! Air mattresses! Cooler! Hiking boots! Bananas! Matches! Honey! Yoga mat! Hooded sweatshirts! General knowledge of ferry schedules! Get it? It. Was. On

 To be continued...

Sunday, May 22, 2016

Woodland Park Part 5

Woodland Park Memories #5

Start Up and End of Day:

The train at Woodland Park, Seattle, was kept overnight in a tunnel structure adjacent to the amusement park. It was a wood building with very sturdy doors at each end. Each morning, when given the OK by George, the kiddeeland manager, I'd walk around the track to the tunnel or walk over through the car ride and hop the fence down to the tunnel. I unlock the double doors and relock the doors open. Relocking the doors open was important as the park kids might just think it would be fun to close the doors during the day.

The train was parked by placing pebbles from the roadbed behind at least two of the engine wheels. The tunnel had a slight uphill grade, and if the rocks weren't used, the train would drift back into the rear tunnel doors after the service brake vacuum pressure bled off after the engines were off for a time. Now I'm sure I could have crafted up some really fancy chocking gadget, but the pebbles worked and they were always at hand.

I made it my practice to remove my 'parking brake' rocks and go to the front of the engine and push it backwards, gaining enough momentum to get both engines out into the daylight. The track leveled out and the rear of the train would start back uphill at the rear entrance to the tunnel, so if I didn't push pretty hard, and gain some momentum, the train would level out with the engines still in the darkness of the tunnel.

I'd prop open the two hoods, and pull the oil dipsticks (pretty short little things) and then take a stick to check the fuel level in the belly tanks. The G-16 used regular leaded gasoline. If all was well, and it usually was, I'd hop onto the top of the rear engine (B Unit), sitting up on the body with my feet in the operators cab. I'd start the first engine and the train would normally creep forward just a bit until vacuum built up enough to snug the shoes against the wheels. I'd then start the second engine and let it idle just a bit.

I'd stay on top of the engine, release the brakes and give the train some throttle and bring the train around the track and up to the station. During this first run, I'd look for debris on the track, natural (branches etc. that may have blown down) and people created (rocks, or other junk put on the tracks for 'fun').

Up at the station, I'd check the cars for any left over trash or excessive peanut shells. If there were no passengers waiting, I may shut the engine down and walk down to the train garage (where the Spur Track led) to get some gas. The gas was delivered to the amusement park by a local vendor in a truck similar to the size that delivers heating oil to homes.  Within the garage, it was stored in two large, wheeled carts, I'd guess about 100 gallons apiece. Those carts never moved from the garage. To fuel the train, I'd fill two square 5 gallon cans using the pump on the carts and carry them up to the station. I never really enjoyed this part as the cans had narrow wire handles and were heavy over the distance I needed to carry them. I think they were left over paint thinner cans, certainly not the familiar army surplus Jerry cans.

If I wasn't going to refuel right then, I'd lock the cans in the station office for use later. When I did the refueling job, I'd open the hoods, using a prop rod to keep the hoods open, and reach down to the tank to unscrew the caps and place a flexible metal tube with a funnel attached that we kept in the storage compartment in the back of the A (Front, Rounded Nose) Unit. The tanks did not have a fuel pipe extension, just the short cap pipe right on top of the tanks.

The method to determine if the tank was full was pretty low tech. When the gas sputtered out of the tank opening, well then it was full. Once full of gas, it was not required to fuel again that day. One side effect of fueling up at the station was that the while the station passenger platform was concrete, the tracks were filled between the rails there with blacktop to make a flat walking area for the customers. After repeated minor fuel spills where the train stopped, the blacktop under the engine slowly dissolved and became a spongy area of black rocks. The gas diluted the asphalt oil/tar part of the blacktop as gas is a solvent.

There was a period where the fluid couplings (torque converters is the term now used most often) between the engine and the transmission failed and the seals and were leaking fluid. Replacements were ordered, but for a pretty long time (or so it seemed to me), we would have to keep refilling the couplings with a light oil several times a day. That oil was added by stopping the engine and touching the starter to have the fill hole with a square drive plug, on top, or nearly on top. We'd take off the plug and refill the couplings. As the train ran, and the couplings spun, the oil seeped from the damaged seals and was flung away from the coupling, with a fair amount of the oil going up out of the vents, and back on yours truly.

The flung off oil tended to cover everything and made the engines smoke more then normal, as any oil that come down on the exhaust stacks or manifolds would burn. I guess it gave the engines more visual authenticity, to have that bit of smoke rise from the vents. The Wisconsin's, being air cooled, would also blow air (and oil) out of the vents from the cooling air that came off of the engine.

I joked with George, the manager, that I was going to charge him for the extra soap and shampoo I needed to de-oil myself at the end of the day. Without missing a beat, he replied he was going to charge me for the company oil I was taking home. Yep, those weeks were especially fun...

Towards the end of the day, when the manager felt business was slowing down to the point where the train wasn't needed, he'd give me the sign and I'd either make one more run with the passengers waiting, or right away, take the train down to the tunnel. I'd need to pull the train to a pretty precise spot to insure that both doors could swing closed. Not a lot of margin for error here. I'd hop out, find some 'parking brake' rocks and lock the old girl up for the night. It was important that my parking brakes extended out from the wheels so I'd have a good grip to remove them come the following morning. Usually I'd just use a larger rock to knock out the parking rocks. Yep, It was a high tech operation there in the 60's. I'd grab my used ticket box (Army surplus ammo can), securely lock both ends of the tunnel and walk back to the office.

Just a quick note on tickets. The cost for a rides at Woodland park was a Dime (green tickets). All rides in the main kiddeeland were the same price. The train was a dime for kids and twenty cents (orange tickets) for adults. All tickets were torn lengthwise when used and deposited in the ammo cans that had a cut in one end large enough to pass several ticket through at a time. (We had a pretty good wad of tickets from a full train load).

The tickets at the end of the day were not discarded, but dumped into very large plastic bags and returned to the main zoo office of the park. As the kiddeeland was operated as a concession, not directly by the parks department, the used tickets were a double check by the park people as to the volume of tickets sold. The train operator was permitted to directly collect cash train fare, for folks who had not bought tickets from the main ticket booth, but then was required to periodically go to the ticket window and buy tickets, and immediately tear them and deposit the torn tickets into the cans. Those tickets would ALWAYS be the 10 cent Green tickets, as the 20 cent ones passed some threshold and delivered 19 cents to George and 1 cent for a city tax. George sort of worked to avoid 'extra' taxes.

(More Later)

Dad



Saturday, May 21, 2016

Books and Trees and Trees and Books

Yesterday I read Sirens of Titan by Kurt Vonnegut. It was an interesting book that followed a man who was rich beyond reason, lost all his wealth, and then traveled to Mars, Mercury, Earth, and then Titan (a moon orbiting Saturn). 

It is a fantastical tale that really puts under the microscope the idea of purpose, free will, intelligence, conformity, and the burden of intelligence. It was fairly alright, in my estimation.

Today I read Mother Night, also by Vonnegut. This book I would rate much higher. 

It is the fictional account of a Nazi Propagandist during World War 2 who is living in Germany. However, he doesn't really believe in his propaganda and is working as an American Spy. The book opens with him in a prison in Jerusalem years after the war but just before being tried for his alleged war crimes. He then details what exactly led him to his current predicament.

The main quote or moral that the whole book seems to revolve around comes in the Introduction:

"We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful about what we pretend to be."

Both the trouble and the absolute brilliance of Vonnegut is that he sets up profound wisdom with whimsy. The whimsy clouds your vision for most of the story. But then with he unwraps that whimsy and shows that it was profound wisdom all along and it hits you like a hammer. What seems muddled quickly becomes poignant and with tremendously accurate precision in burrows inside of your mind and festers. 

In other words, I can't stop thinking about his books. Tomorrow (erm, today) I head out with Patrick to go camping. I was planning on bringing along my Kindle to start Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance but I have this tickling feeling that I will instead read another Kurt Vonnegut book.

If you ever decide to pick up one of his works, know that it might take a couple attempts to get invested. The first time I picked up a book it took me three tries to even realize it was satirical in nature. That particular book was Cat's Cradle, which I absolutely love. It took me those three tries to appreciate it though.

He has a certain voice that is unique to him and very palatable once you get a taste for it.

Anyway. I am eager to camp. I am hopeful for stars. I am adamant about creating fire even in the face of torrents, should there be torrents. I am craving the silence that only the wilderness creates.

There is something about reading a wonderfully fine book that makes me feel poetic.

As I close, I must ask. What are all of your favorite books? Maybe not your top favorite but one, two, or of your favorites.

I find I have trouble committing to the next book to read but rather I'm enjoying the inspiration to read a book from a wide wealth of options before me. In that spirit, I'd love to add to me list any books you all have personally treasured in your life. And Dad, no fair saying Needful Things as that is already what I read before bed each morning.

Until next time!

-Bradley

Friday, May 20, 2016

A Guest Blog

One of the Blogs I read every day is the one by Ken Levine http://kenlevine.blogspot.com/. He used to broadcast for the Mariners, and wrote for shows such as M*A*S*H, Cheers, Frasier and others. I had the good fortune to meet with him on my last trip to LA. Anyway, I sent him a 'Friday Question' for his blog some weeks ago, and he answered it today. I figured as baseball fans, you'd enjoy it too,
Dad
======================================================
And finally, Cliff wants to know:

With baseball season starting, I'd really like to hear of your pre-game process to get ready to call the game. Some time ago, you mentioned that Dave N. arrived hours before a game to get ready. What is it you do? Read the sports pages or something? If you have other folks that you've worked with that have unique pre-game rituals, those would be interesting to hear about too.

Everyone has a little different routine. I do a lot of work before I get to the park. I spend an hour or so on the computer, reading newspaper stories from both clubs. Then I check out the stories from the team we’ll be playing next and making notes on them.

I also subscribe to a service that provides player profiles and background stories. I’ll go through those, especially that night’s starting pitcher and any new players who have joined the roster. I also need to know why the new players are there. Who was injured or traded or dropped to create the opening? And if it was an injury, what was the nature of the injury, how did the player get it, and when is he due back?

There is a lot of room on my scoresheet for notes, so I begin jotting down notes for that night’s game.


For a 7:00 game I get to the park around 3:00 and get myself set up in the booth. At 3:15 clubhouses are open to the media so I go down and talk with the players. Usually I’ll go to both clubhouses. For the visiting team, I like to talk to the manager or coaches. They usually provide the best info. It’s great when you can sit in the manager’s office and shoot the shit with him off the record. Each clubhouse generally has the starting line up posted. I take that down and if there’s anything unusual about it I seek out a coach or the manager to find out what’s what.

Around 4:15 the home team manager will usually meet in the dugout with the media to answer questions. The visiting manager does the same later in the afternoon. I always attend those.

Once batting practice begins I hang around the batting cage, or in the dugouts just talking to people – other announcers, reporters, players, team PR people, former players, agents, stadium ushers.

Sometimes I’ll knock on the umpires’ door if I have a question about a rule or a decision.

At around 5:15 I go back up to the booth. I fill in the starting line ups and appropriate stats. By this time the team notes are available along with a big stack of statistics. I scan the statistics. Who leads the team in doubles, triples, strike outs, errors, hitting into double plays, etc? I make notes.

Around 5:45 I’ll duck into the pressbox dining room for dinner. Usually there are advanced scouts there. I try to sit with them and get their impressions about certain players.

At 6:15 I’m back in the booth, highlighting notes and continuing to jot down little nuggets. I assemble my player profiles so they’re easily accessible.

At 6:30 it’s time for the pre-game show (if I’m just doing radio). And we’re off and running.

If it’s television, there’s usually a production meeting to go over the opening and any features the director plans on using. Then there’s the on-camera opening to tape. That usually takes about fifteen minutes and we’re told what time to report to the booth.  So I adjust my day accordingly. 

But wait! There’s more!

After the game I’ll try to either go down to the clubhouse to ask a few players or the manager a couple of questions about the game, or (on the road) will head to the hotel bar where there are usually a few players or coaches enjoying a nightcap.

I’ll also watch MLB highlights before going to sleep.

That’s my routine. There are some announcers who roll in at 6:00. There are others who are at the park at 1:00. Some socialize with the players, others never go down to the clubhouse – they get their info from the teams’ announcers. Some bring their scoresheets with them down to the field and fill them out in the dugout. There’s something to be said for that. Players see that you’re preparing too.

Now you may say I put in a lot of preparation, and that’s true, but as a baseball fan, I do a lot of that anyway. I read articles, listen to and watch games on line and on satellite, and check out all the highlights and stories on MLB.COM. At least when I’m calling games I get paid for it.

More Flying Stories

More Flying:

Earlier I wrote a post about flying with my friend Craig Foltz. Due to everwhelming demand, I have some more stories.

We'd fly nearly every week, often several times a week. He'd pick me up from my Lake City parents house, in his well used Opal Cadet car. (It had the new fangled flow-through ventalation). We'd drive up to Paine filed to a flight service and flying school operation. We were the main customer for the Air-Nocker that they had, as most folks wanted the newer Cessna planes with side seating and a capacity of 4. The Aeronca was fine with us, it was cheaper to fly, and for Craig, gaining hours in the log was most important.

Often we'd just fly pretty local, do some touch and goes and never really getting bery far away. Often though, we figured as long as we were getting hours, we might just as well go someplace. I recall one trip where we went to Olympia Airfield, (a popular search base) and do some navigation to there. After doing some practice landings, we flew out to the Ocean (The Big PO in Corcoran speak).

Out at the ocean, there is a beach that absnt a very high tide, has a broad flat hard sandy surface. It's even considered an emergency airfield called Copalas Beach State Emergency. Well, we had a biological 'emergency' so after flying low and slow to check it out, and seeing another airplane already on the beach, down we went. Nice landing, and there were no incidents. We slowed quicker than we expected, but not enough to be worrisome to take off again. We went over to the other plane (a 4 place Cessna), and offered the couple a donut from our purchase earlier at Olympia. We proceeded a ways directly behind the Cessna, (blind spot) and cleared the bio emergency.

Off we went and north towards the Olympic National Park area. We were going along, enjoying the views of the mountains, when we realized that we were in the wrong canyon, or pass through the Olympics. Seems we were going up a break between the mountains that didn't have an outlet, but a wall of high mountains at the end. That was not good. The Air-nocker was designed as a light observation craft, and by no means (really, NO means), a performance aircraft. In other words, it would be impossible for us to power over the mountains. What we did, and again, it was a first for Foltzy was to do a Hammer Head turn, where we powered up, pulled up into the best climb that we could, roll the plane so the wings were near vertical, kick the rudder over to pivot the plane on its axis, and voila, we were heading the other way. It was good that we made the Copalas stop.

From here on the trip was uneventful. Fun Times!

Dad

30 Year Old Writer's Block

It seems to me that there are three major hurdles to writing. I have been thinking about this because it has always been on my bucket list per se to write a book.

I spend more time than I care to admit turning over potential ideas in my head. Some aspect of some portion of life is out there and it is so interesting to me as to cause an unassailable craving wherein my constant desire will be to study and analyze and chew and digest and reform and detail and describe and present to others the fruits of my labor. The problem is that I don't exactly know what that is. Maybe that is in itself my ideal idea? That would be serendipitous in a quaint and sardonic way.

However, I have been misleading. There are three hurdles as I can see it and none of them are inspiration (or the finding of that idea). Maybe to be good writing one must find that idea but that is a completely different thing altogether.

The First Hurdle is The Blank Page. Nothing is quite as menacing as the prospect of infinite choices. I struggle to decide what I want to eat and my range of cooking and/or restaurants is nowhere near infinity. I have trouble deciding between two restaurants, to add to that only compounds the issue. To put it another way, I believe I spend more time browsing the library than reading books. I spend more time wading through Netflix than watching movies. Maybe that is hyperbole but not by much. The act of Starting is at times insurmountable.

Once one starts, they have a sudden burst of momentum. The Second Hurdle is Keeping Momentum. Keeping that momentum is Difficult. Many caricatures have been instilled in books and movies about the writer who aggressively berates those around him who break his train of thought. In some ways, this is just on off-shoot of the First Hurdle. Breaking momentum is akin to restarting and starting is dangerously fickle. However, these two hurdles are dissimilar enough to distinguish.

Finally, the Third Hurdle is Letting Go. Writers tend to be perfectionists, especially the good ones. They can't stop until every word is carefully and intentionally penned so as to be portray the intent of the author. Writing a book is easy if you can start and keep going (hurdles one and two). Writing a Good Book is difficult unless you find the best time to jump the third hurdle. Jump too early and your work is incomplete and flawed too heavily to be admired. Jump to late and it loses its heart and has the potential of losing the audience.

All three hurdles come down to one basic idea: Fear. Fear can drive an author to success or cripple him into indolence. Fear to start because what if I fail? Fear to stop because what if I lose it? Fear to let go because then I lose control.

I was listening to an interview with a Stand Up Comedian earlier today. He was describing how he would purposefully tank himself by losing his audience or pushing them away or angering them in an effort to fail. Then, in that place of failure (and according to him only in that place of failure) was he able to learn how to truly be successful. Allow me a moment to paraphrase: "Only once you learn how to be okay with that feeling of failure and to even learn how to like failure because of what you can learn from it can you be successful."

I suppose these ideas are poignantly on my mind tonight because of a new book I am reading. The book argues that everyone longs for a feeling of importance. Sometimes they find this importance in their work or in their hobbies or in their families. Sometimes they find it in harmful things like drugs or crimes or, even, drifting into mental insanity. A person's importance can come from anything really.

I think my sense of importance comes from influencing others towards wisdom, healing, and maturity. I can unpack those terms sometime if you'd like. Suffice it to say for now, I have always believed that I can adroitly accomplish these goals through the writing of a book.

So eagerly I endeavor to jump those Three Hurdles to tackle that great enemy Fear in the attempt to create something that imbues me with importance through the betterment of others.

Whew. That was wordy.

Thursday, May 19, 2016

Hope

I want you to think of the top 5 people, living or not, that you would love to have a meal with! Got it? Now imagine you get to not only have a meal, but spend 2 days with 3 out of 5 of them, at the same time, at the happiest place on earth!! Welcome to my dream.

This is an event that I wanted to be at since it was announced months ago. But, seeing that I make about $2 bucks an hour and have only about $20 extra a month, it was way out of my reach. 

Fast forward to a couple weeks ago and I learned who else was going to be there to speak! In that moment, I knew I had to at least try!! 

I checked on any miles I still had and I had just enough to get there on one airline and just enough to get back on a different airline. I gained a small grain of hope and kept going. I emailed the creator of the event and shared my story! He immediately emailed me back and put me in touch with his event coordinator. She than put me in touch with 2 girls that were looking for hotel roommates to save money. I contacted them and they were thrilled to share! I checked on Scott's discount options and found a place close to where we needed to be! Instead of costing me almost $300 for lodging, it's going to be a total of $80ish for the whole time I'm there!

Now all I need to do is pay for my event ticket. After crunching numbers, I discovered I had a little more extra than I usually do. After selling haircuts on the street corner the last couple weeks, I finally did it. I raised enough for my whole trip! 

I can't wait to spend a few days with 3 of the most amazing people I know. It's the dream experience and I know it will be filled with magic and shenanagains! 

http://bobgoff.com/livingroom/

Sometimes life surprises you. Sometimes you're given chances you never dreamed would happen. Since a year ago April, I would safely say that this has been the second hardest year of my life yet. I hope after next week when my spirit is renewed with energy and laughter, I can start fresh and find my next adventure! Especially adventures that pay me more than $2 an hour!! 

PS If you'd like anything from Disney, just get me the cash and write down what you need and I'll be happy to pick it up!! 

Wednesday, May 18, 2016

Back to the Present

First off, I want to again thank Patrick for the idea, and the legwork to establish the blog. (What does 'Blog' stand for anyway?) I'm enjoying reading about what folks are doing, or just stories that they want to share. Thank You!

I've been posting some history stories about what I've done in the past. I hope that they are somewhat interesting to you guys. Let me know. OK?

Today was a minor milestone. I, along with Mom, went down to the Social Security office (It took 7 weeks to get an appointment), and applied for "Old Age Benefits". Yep that what the official documents say, Old Age Benefits. Not you worked for 50 years, (Yes I have Social Security earnings records starting in 1965, and each year since) and have earned a benefit, although that's the case, but Old Age Benefits. That kind of sets you back a bit.

It's a hard thing for the generation behind you to understand, but even though I'm losing some color in my hair or even (rumor has it) losing some actual hair, my mind, thoughts, interests are not 'old'. The chassis may have more miles on it than before, but I think that my personality, and all that causes me to have my sense of self really doesn't change a lot as the years add up. Lessons have been learned for sure, and because I respect and want to please those around me, I may have rounded off the corners of doing some dare-devil activities, and have pledged to have someone standing by when I go up a ladder, doesn't mean that I don't think of the same things and activities that I did when I was younger.

So, I'm on the US Government  records now as an Old Age Person. I even needed to swear that under penalty of perjury! What will change now? Really not much. I will continue to do my work for my paycheck, I will continue to entertain those around me by singing when the mood strikes (I'm an excellent singer!), look for fun trips to take, and once in a while, get into some mischief.

All in all, an interesting day.

Dad

Feedback from Train Story

Mr. Corcoran,

I am the Stephen Stuntz referenced in the letter by my grandfather George.
I can assure you that I have never suffered any lasting damage from our
brief encounter regardless of my grandfather's impressions.He was a
superior court judge and quite the stickler for details. I hope that you
can accept my apology for your public rebuke even though it is 50 years
late. I am sure that you were as professional on that day as on each
successive day whether in white or gray coveralls.

I was quite charmed by the article that you found and while I do not
remember that particular day (I was only 2!) it did remind me of the fond
memories of my grandfather. My family has had a good laugh as well. I am
curious as to how you found the article and how you found me but no matter
how you did I really appreciate it.

Thank you very much.
Stephen Stuntz

On Mon, May 16, 2016 at 5:44 PM, Cliff Corcoran <cliffcor@gmail.com> wrote:

> Hello Mr. Stultz,
>
> I am not certain you are the person I am looking for, but here is the
> story.
>
> Was your grandfather named George R. Stuntz? If so, this piece from
> the Seattle Times in 1966 refered to you.
>
> I was likely the engineer that your grandfather referred to. I am so
> sorry if I created a Shattered Image of what a proper train operator
> should wear. Be assured, that from that point forward I did wear the
> hat and gray coveralls.
>
> I hope that if you are indeed the person this article referred to,
> that you got a kick out of this 50 year old story.
>
> Regards,
> Cliff Corcoran

Book Recommendation

Tonight I finished the book on James Garfield that I had started yesterday. I was sitting down trying to think about what to share from the book on this here blog and came up short. The trouble is, the book was packed so full of fantastic information and great story telling that I cannot pick it apart well enough to transpose it here.

So instead! I want recommend the book to you so that you can read it yourself. It is called Destiny of the Republic by Candice Millard. It is not a very long read, about 260 pages. Neither is it inaccessible. Other than a few portions on Alexander Graham Bell, it is a very easy and manageable read. So if you're worried you'll have trouble devoted the needed attention to it, I assure you it can be tackled in easy digestive chunks.

Do yourself a favor and read this wonderful book on our 20th President. If you happen to pick it up, let me know when you get through it. We can grab coffee and chat about it, if you so wish.

In closing, in the event that you don't pick up this fine read, I will regale you with some awesome quotes by Garfield himself:

If wrinkles must be written on our brows, let them not be written upon the heart. The spirit should never grow old. 
The truth will set you free, but first it will make you miserable. 

A pound of pluck is worth a ton of luck. 
Man cannot live by bread alone; he must have peanut butter.

If the power to do hard work is not a skill, it's the best possible substitute for it.

Of course I deprecate war but if it is brought to my door the bringer will find me at home.

Having done all I fairly could to avoid a fight, I now fight to the end

Tuesday, May 17, 2016

Woodland Park Memories #4 (Rain)

Rain.

Yes, it does rain in the Seattle area. Rain poses a special set of complications for the operations of the train. You will recall my descriptions of the track run at woodland park, where the hills and slopes of the terrain are ever changing, with significant downgrade, transitions from down to up and back and a fair number of curves and turns thrown in.

Most times, the grades were routinely handles with the appropriate levels of throttle, brakes, or combinations of both. Sometimes, however the weather intrudes on that routine.

If the weather was bad, most days we'd just not bother bringing the train out of its tunnel/garage for the day as the customer loads just didn't justify the trouble. The train was the major attraction at the amusement park at the zoo and we avoided operating it on very light days. After all, off road (Non-Road Tax) gasoline was about 12-15 cents a gallon at the time, couldn't waste it.)

If the weather was on and off rainy, or if the showers arrived during an otherwise busy day at the park, we'd soldier on through the rain, as long as it didn't look like a steady storm. Again this choice was made strictly on business grounds. (As long as enough people bought tickets, around I went). We found that if the seats got all wet, folks would not be as interested to sit and go through the loop.

Back to operations. I've described the large, sweeping uphill grade turn at the far North end of the run. Elephant Barn Hill I've named it due to (surprise) the proximity to the elephant barns in the park. From the bridge over the path to Lower Woodland, the track was slightly downgrade, then changed to a short straight away of neutral grade then uphill around the curve we went. It's important to remember that any train, Regular Size, or Park sized, required more power on a level grade going around a curve then on a straight away. More often than not, this is not too noticeable on a fairly level track. Think of the drag the wheels have on the rail, when the train is being pulled around a curve. That's why a curve, even absent a hill, it takes more power to overcome that drag resistance.

Add the significant up grade with the curve, and you'll understand where in the run I really let out the horses of the V-4 Wisconsin's to pull my customer filled cars up hill and around the curves. I loved the sound of the G-16 doing it's stuff up that hill as they were working hard. A full train, just in people weight, could be north of 4,000 lbs.

Rain. It was a funny thing about rain, and wet rails and uphill grades. The effect of wet rail was something a bit different then what you might expect. If the rail was dry, well that was routine, and other then mis-judging when and how much power to apply, dry rail was not a problem. Even if I was late adding power, and lost momentum, I god lug up the last part of the fill at full throttle, even if the train was barely creeping. (Embarrasing !)

Counter-intutive, when the rail was COMPLETLY wet, then again, other then the rain in my face, the trip up the hill was pretty normal. Sure I had to be a bit more alert for wheel spin, and I had to feather the throttle a bit to maintain good rail to wheel contact, but it was not a huge problem.

But, if the day started dry, and then some light showers arrived in the middle of the work day, I had a problem. Seems that PARTIALLY wet rail, acted like wet ice to the small steel wheels of the MTC G-16 pulling the train weight up the hill.

I'd start powering early if I noticed sprinkles basically just after the bridge using the downhill, level section to grab a couple extra MPH's before I went up the big curve. But likely as not, if the rails were just partially wet, despite my best efforts to notice the first hint of rail slip and back down power and try to regain some tractive effort, I'd stall out somewhere up the grade as the wheels would just slip, and not create any pull at all. At that point, I had no choice. Without an operable reverse on the train (The Woodland Park units were always in forward), I had to shut down the engines, jump out, run up to the nose of the A Unit and pushed the train, and people, back as far as I could towards the bridge to get another run at the hill.

Often, and against my instructions, the 'helpful' customers would also jump out to lend a hand. I discouraged this, as I was not comfortable having folks pushing on the train on the uneven ground, fearing someone would slip and I'd be in a pot of trouble. But human nature is what it is, and I couldn't do much to stop the practice.

After getting the folks back inside, I'd fire up the engines and using as much power as I could short of slipping the wheels, would again try to mount the hill. Rarely, one such Do-Over was enough, more often it took 3-4 tries, with the train gaining several dozen yards each run before the power-traction curve got the better of me, making the wheels slip, losing all effective pulling power.

The one bright spot in this exercise was that one I made it around, and the rails were completely wet, I'd not have any trouble for the rest of the day. Likewise, if the rails started wet and the sun came out, the drying rails proved no problem.

The other related situation was at the end of the run when I entered the station. The platform canopy didn't completely cover the tracks but did tend to shield the rails from the worst of the rain, creating with the wet train wheels, the partially wet rail situation again. If I was not mindful of this, and I went into the station a bit too hot, when I applied brakes to stop, I risked locking up the wheels and sliding merrily past my parking position. (Remember, I didn't have the benefit of a reverse gear to correct that lapse). Locking up the wheels is as bad as slipping the wheels. It's again an ineffective, wet ice effect.

As this would be right in the view of George, the manager, not to mention the other ride operators, who seem to have long memories when one of us publicly screws up, I made it a point not to let that happen very often at all.

I think I learned a lot of practical physics being a train engineer!

(more later)

Dad
I am back at work again tonight. Though there was a particularly eventful moment during my shift, it was short-lived and I again found myself with time on my hands to read.

Taking longer than I had anticipated (possibly due to being distracted by ball games) it took me until tonight to finish my biography on Lincoln. I think what I will take from the book is how consistently loyal he was and how staunchly he stood by his convictions.

There was an account of two warring members of his cabinet, Chase and Seward. Both hated each other, a fact that had been known to Lincoln even before he hired them on. It came to a head at one point where Chase tried for a power play to oust Seward from the Cabinet. Seward tendered his resignation but much to Chase's chagrin, Lincoln refused to accept it. Then Chase gave a letter of resignation. To Chase's further astonishment, Lincoln refused him as well. Even though Chase and Seward's bickering was not befitting their offices nor were they productive at all in matters outside their own pride and attempts for power, Lincoln deftly and cunningly garnered and bolstered both of their support. The cabinet was stronger due to Lincoln's prowess of not panicking, and not losing the forest for the trees.

I am now beginning a biography on James Garfield, the 20th President of the United States. While I've only read the first chapter, I can already tell that I am going to enjoy this book. Garfield, like Lincoln, was poor. He escaped his poverty through learning. As an example of this intellect, while finding a bit of free time in congress, he wrote his own proof on the Pythagorean Theorem. This impressive feat can only be embellished by the fact that while writing this I originally misspelled theorem. 

He, like Lincoln, also had a lot of tragedy in his life. Only one chapter in and I have learned that Garfield lost two of his children to illness. I want to share a quote from the book. This comes right after he lost his second child.

"Searching for a way to teach his children this hard truth, to prepare them for what inevitably lay ahead, Garfield had often turned to what he knew best - Books. After dinner one evening, he pulled a copy of Shakespeare's Othello off the shelf and began to read the tragedy aloud. "The children were not pleased with the way the story came out," he admitted in his diary, but he hoped that they would come to "appreciate stories that [do not] come out well, for they are very much like a good deal of life.""

It is a fantastic coincidence that just last week I read Othello. Coincidence aside, I love his perspective. He turned to learning when he didn't understand the deep tragedies of his life. He turned to family and he turned to sharing what he learned. 

Furthermore, he read a book that took people out of their comfort zone. I think books or movies or television shows or the stories we share around the dinner table or the camp fire all work together to make us well rounded people. It is our sharing of perspectives that unites and refines us.

In my endeavor to read 52 books in 52 weeks, I have purposely aspired to read disparate books (though I admit the irony in that as I am reading back to back presidential biographies). This year so far I have read Science Fiction, Science Education, Fiction, Philosophy, Autobiography, Biography, Fantasy, and Poetry. After this next book I will add another genre, Horror, as I tackle Stephen King's Needful Things. I hope to keep expanding my horizons through books.

I can't wait to share some of the perspectives I come across through reading with you all.

-Bradley

Monday, May 16, 2016

June 6, 1966

This took a lot of searching. I knew it existed somewhere, but it took some exploring to find it.
Below is a capture of a Seattle Times 'Troubleshooter' column that ran June 6, 1966. The column was for people to complain of 'something' that needed to be fixed around town.



A couple points. After this was published, we were required to wear the hats. And while we preferred the white coveralls, (they were cooler), from here on the grey coveralls were assigned. Poor little Stevie, at hope at 2 years old, he wasn't scared for life!
Dad

Oh My Goodness. I just realized that in a couple weeks, its be a full 50 years since this was published. Wow.



Woodland Park In the Olden Days!



 I'm sure dad was the one driving the train the day I rode!


If only I had known Dad was looking for Woodland Park pictures I would have shown him these!

Sunday, May 15, 2016

Generosity

This weekend was a pretty amazing weekend for me. I got to volunteer at an event at my church. It's a weekend to raise money for different organizations that need help. We partnered with an organization to build schools, one to create wells for clean water, one to rescue girls from human trafficking and one to help one of our local high schools build a center for single moms. The amount of generosity that was displayed was incredible. And what was so awesome for me was how to be generous with your time. And with your kindness. And with the people around you. Generosity isn't always financial. It can be as simple as listening. Or giving an extra hug. Or helping your neighbor. It was an incredible weekend!! And we raised over $250,000 which is beyond amazing. So many lives will be saved from what we raised.



Woodland Park Links

I'm not sure how this works, but I found a video that has a few seconds of the Woodland Park train. It's about at 4:00 in the video.

The Video shows the initial curve down by where the back gate into the future kiddee land, than going North towards the big hill and finishing by coming down the straight behind the locomotive display. (Short Fence). You'll note the kids in back starting to stand up and mug for the camera. Little buggers just couldn't stay in the seats.

https://youtu.be/1DGE0ryM9dQ

Not sure how to caption each picture, but you can see the cars ride, the Helicopter ride and some train pictures. I can't date them at all, as the train shows rubble behind it, so that must be before the Kiddeland rides were constructed. Also note behind the Train Station, that you can see a bit of the Ferris Wheel

This were NOT easy to find, I googled my fingers off.

I'll talk about the rides in a later blog

Dad



The Helicopter ride from the date of Jun 65 would have been taken while I worked there. Notice all of the suits on the men visiting the zoo. Also, you can see a glimpse of one of the workers in the 'uniform' that we wore, white coveralls. He's right in front of the phone booth, anothersign of the times. (An anachronism (from the Greek ἀνά ana, "against" and χρόνος khronos, "time")

The car ride was a high maintenance ride, as I'll discuss in a later blog. Behind the car is the rail tunnel that aslo served as the overnight garage for the train.


The train station was used before the rides were located here, was the ticket booth when the train was by itself for several years prior to the kiddeeland, Note the full size caboose, that was the restrooms for the ride area (Prior to the ADA rules), and to the far left you can see part of the Ferris wheel.






Here is a good view of the passenger cars. The doors were just openings, and the normal seat capacity was 2. Sometimes 3 kids shared a seat. There were 4 passenger cars with 2 locomotives pulling the load.

First "Real" Job

For the thousands in attendance and the millions reading around the world; Let’s get ready to Blooooooog.

Okay so maybe not quite millions or thousands but you get my drift.  It seems that we have been chatting lately about past jobs so I figured I would add my two cents, because really that’s all I seem to have.

I remember my first job was working for Solano County Parks and Recreation.  Primarily I worked at Children’s Wonderland.  Now the name makes it sound much more fantastical than it actually was.  My main duties included walking around the park saying hello to the guests and directing them to the concession areas or the bathrooms, or sitting in the entrance hut making balloons for the kids.  The bright spot of the day was when I was allowed to run the floating / spinning teacups.  I was allowed the responsibility to push the button to start it and then push the button to stop it.  I left with a record of 0 deaths during the tenure as the teacup operator. 


Well that was my first “real” job although it did not pay all that much, in fact if I remember correctly they used my services for a couple years and I only received a t-shirt.  Seems somebody got the short end of the stick on that one.

Scott

Woodland Park Memories, Part 3:

Last time I related one story concerning the big hill, at the North end of my Woodland Park Seattle run (Elephant Barn Hill). Coming up to the top and starting back towards the station, was a pretty straight and level run, one of the few level stretches on the Woodland Park track. (Woodland Park is situated on the common topology for the Seattle area, namely hills. There was more track on a grade of some sort or another then anything close to flat. Likely the reason why the A-B G-16 MTC two engine configuration was chosen, and darn well needed). The track, now Southbound, went past the then Feline (Lions, Tigers etc.) house of the park.

This section of track was interesting for me in that it had a series of tall bushes/trees, with hiding spaces for kids in between. Another alert area for kids who thought I was running a 'toy train' so it certainly couldn't hurt me right?

After the bushes was a busy crossing for people walking up from Lower Woodland. Actually this path was the continuation of the path we went over using the bridge earlier in the description of the run. The crossing had one of the MTC electric crossing signals, but that signal was never working during my tenure. I did experiment in the station office by turning on the circuit breaker for this (and other props on the line), but alas, the signals still didn't operate and when I returned to the office, the breaker was always tripped. No doubt a short somewhere in the underground wiring or in the signals themselves.

Past the crossing, the run led down past the static display of the Old Great Northern 1246. This impressive 4-8-0 steam locomotive was always of great interest to me. It had a description panel that explained that the loco was sitting on Main Line weighted rail, and ballasted track, as well as some description of where the engine was used. It was protected by a short wire fence.

When the Zoo board began an extensive renovation of the park, the Great Northern history represented by the engine, was not deemed to fit to be a part of that plan. The locomotive (Great Northern 1246) was sold to a collector with the understanding that he was going to restore it and use it as a tourist attraction, running back and forth on some length of track near the Grand Canyon.  Instead, it was cannibalized for parts and sits rusting in a field in southern Oregon. Sad Story.

Passing the display, I was slowing down for reentry to the station. Nearing the end of my run, I needed to cross a very wide, at grade, entrance to the amusement park. Liberal application of my horn was required. Even with the horn, kids, and what I had to think of as responsible adults, when away from the park, would hurry, and dart in front of my engine so to avoid the whole 10-20 seconds that I may have been in their way as I crossed the open space to get stopped in my station platform area.

I faced a real challenge here. If I crept down to too slow a speed, it was chronic for passengers on the train to feel it was time to hop out and get in line for the Ferris Wheel or some other attraction. If I went too fast, I was in danger of running over the people I mentioned earlier that again, perceived me as running a Lionel model train or something else where good common sense could be disregarded.

The vacuum powered braking system of the MTC G-16's and others in that family was a good system, but suffered from having a delay between any cab application of brakes and the time that was required to evacuate the entire length of the train brake line before the pistons that tightened up the brake shoes really took hold and created braking effect. 

So, back to my entrance crossing challenge. Too fast, and I ran the risk of bowling down the customers, too slow and I had my passengers bailing out of a moving train. And then there was that multiple second delay with my brakes. I consulted my father, a professional truck driver, and he suggested the tactic that I came to use on congested days.

I would apply a low to medium brake application, say around 5-10 inches of vacumn 'pressure' and then use a bit more throttle than would otherwise be required to pull against the partially applied brakes. The brake drag would help me stop if some brain surgeon stumbled as he raced in front of me, and the added engine noise also tended to discourage the folks who tended to jump off.

I slid into the station area and always tried to keep speed up and come to as brisk a stop as I could, again to keep folks in their seats until I was actually where I wanted to stop. The folks would pile off, there was always a competition to get into the next runs seats in front, right behind me, or way in back, and off the cycle would go once again.

More Later

Dad