Date: Tue, 7 Aug 2012 01:48:31 -0400
From: Jesse Jesse <gmmac1987@hotmail.com>
Subject: Being Seen Pt 10

	Though every major railway in the country had long-since
transitioned to diesel and electric power motives, in the 1960's,
particularly in the south in the 1960's, there were still several "steam
men" who'd made their living "jerking the throttle" of the hissing, smoking
giants that had powered the nation for decades. One such man was Frank
Carroll. 65 years old and as spry as anyone half his age, Frank Carroll was
a much-needed source of not only guidance and information regarding our
project with the railway, but proved in time to be a great friend. But
Frank also proved something else, something that took everyone who dealt
with him by surprise; Frank had the foulest mouth of anyone I'd ever met!
Oh sure, I suppose that's not really such a big deal in one since, but when
you stand listening to a grandpa figure curse a "goddamned, fucking, son of
a bitch engine" for a part not working right, half doubled over in laughter
and half expecting the ground to open and swallow everyone around up in
judgment, it's a big deal! Though he proved a life saver with his seemingly
endless knowledge of railroading, Frank was a completely unexpected member
of our crew. We'd known from the first day of discussions of purchasing the
locomotive and operating it for excursion use that we'd need someone with
expertise in such things, and we'd all mentally prepared ourselves for what
we guessed would be months of searching for someone who not only had the
knowledge we sought, but would be willing to move to another town and work
with us. But Frank was totally unexpected. He'd not waited for us to seek
him out, but had come knocking on our door, a smile on his face and an
offer on his lips. Though unknown to us at the time, a lifelong native of
the neighboring town where we'd purchased the old locomotive, Frank had
heard of our venture and had made inquiries around until he'd found where
Seth and I were living, so that he might seek us out and offer his aid. And
what aid he proved to be! Frank gave literal meaning to the old phrase
we've all heard of "forgetting more than someone else will ever learn." He
had amazed us all on his first day into the engine house, walking around
the old locomotive, pointing out "air pumps," "injectors," "Walschaert's
valve gear," and any number of things otherwise unknown to us. His eyes had
shown like a small child at the candy counter when he'd first taken in the
view of the rusty old steamer. "Why, I tell you boys. You'll not find a
better damned locomotive anywhere than these here little mikados. 'Course
the best name for 'em here in the states is 'MacArthurs.' They was named
after the design from over in Japan, but after them sons 'o bitches dropped
'em damn bombs on Pearl Harbor, nobody wanted to name the things after 'em
any more, so they named after 'ole MacArthur, the general." This was
another thing we'd not counted on, Frank's seemingly childlike enthusiasm
and workaholic ethics. It seemed 20 years of working in the locomotive shop
for Southern Railway, and another 25 of working for Norfolk and Southern
had instilled in Frank a sense of urgency and work ethics for repairing and
operating the locomotives he'd dealt with that was almost fanatical. When
we'd bought the locomotive we'd not even bothered to give ourselves a
specific time frame of when we thought she would be operational, so we were
both shocked and thrilled when we received the call from Frank, telling us
"the old girl was ready as she'd ever be!"

	I do not wish to brag or sound haughty, but few things in my life
ever came as natural to me as learning to drive the train. I'd always been
mechanically-minded. When I was just a child I'd already amazed my
grandparents at the things I'd been able to imagine and build with my
Tinker Toys and Erector set. By the time I'd turned ten my maternal grandpa
had already shown me how to break down the block and transmission of a
car's motor. Seth had instructed me on many of the common operations and
goings-on around the farm, fastening the horses saddle so I could ride on
my own, and how to use the welder Grandpa had brought home a few years
ago. It seemed I'd always just been a hands-on type of young man, but never
would I have guessed that I would find the operation of the locomotive so
easy, nor to my liking. Seth would laugh for years to come at my insistence
that Grandpa and Gram were there with me that first day I'd sat with Frank
looking over my shoulder, showing me the do's and don't's of train
operation. Though Seth sat for hours, vehemently under his breath because
he applied way too much steam and caused the locomotive to spin desperately
in place, not moving an inch, I managed to get the old locomotive chuffing
around the yard on only my second attempt. Frank was elated. "By George,
boy, I'll be a son of a bitch if you ain't done went and got it figured
out! You're a natural at this!" Though I didn't want to seem haughty or
arrogant in any way, I couldn't help but agree with him. As I was
considerably scrawnier than Seth, firing the ever-hungry mammoths its tons
or coal and water proved a bit more of a challenge for me, but as the weeks
and months passed I found my strength gradually building and the job
becoming easier. What a thrill came from those first trial runs, made at
night so as not to interrupt the daytime traffic of the shortline. Nothing
can quite compare to the feeling of giving that first jerk on the throttle,
and feeling that first lurch as the locomotive begins to hiss and clank its
way forward, feelings of raw power and strength. My heart skipped and
thundered in my chest at those times when I'd be able to reach up and give
the whistle signal for a crossing looming ahead. Though I knew I must have
looked foolish, I found myself grinning boyishly each time as I counted the
signal whistles off in my head; two long, one short, and one more long for
the crossing ahead! Finally came the day we'd all been preparing for,
waiting excitedly for, and in a strange way dreading; excursion day.

	Seth and I both were up early that morning, having a hearty
breakfast and preparing for the strenuous day ahead. Though I was a bundle
of nerves myself, wondering and worrying as to whether anyone would bother
to show up after all our hard work and advertisements, Seth was fussing
over something altogether different. "Babe do I have to wear these damn
things? I look like something out of a cartoon!" Though I knew I should
have been supportive, I couldn't stifle the laugh that escaped as he came
shuffling through the house, no shirt of shoes, bare feet sticking out one
end, and his muscled arms and chest sticking out the other of the new
striped "engineer's overalls" I'd bought for him. His few wispy hairs that
grazed his chest stuck out at an odd angle over the bib of his overalls,
and his pale chest and dark arms of a farmer's tan gave made me wonder if
anyone could have ever looked more out of place in their attire. But the
embarrassed, yet resigned to please look he wore could not have been more
of a turn-on.  I found myself chuckling as I answered. "Well, I don't guess
you really have to, but I thought we'd look nice for both of us to match
today." He sneered a mocking sneer. "You're starting to treat me like we're
an old married couple, matching our clothes up for social affairs. What
will we have next, matching hats?" I couldn't contain the grin that crept
across my face. "Well actually, yes, I bought matching hats too!" The look
on Seth's face as I swept by him and brought two striped engineer's hats
from a bad that had lain next to the sofa was priceless. "You've got to be
kidding me!" I sidled up to face him, pulling a childish face. "Well, I
don't suppose you have to, but I'll be disappointed if you don't." He
sighed a defeated sigh and jerked the hat from my hand, his curly hair
sticking from underneath the brim as he pulled the hat onto his
head. Finally he pulled me into him, kissing my head as it rested on his
chest. "The things I do for you!" I turned my head up to face him, staring
in to those beautiful eyes. "And I hope you know just how much I love you
for it." The chimes of Gram's ancient grandfather clock brought us out of
our reverie, and we reluctantly pulled apart to begin our final
preparations.

	Though we had posted fliers for two weeks before the day of the
excursion and even placed an add on the local radio stations, nothing could
have shocked us more than the crowd waiting outside the tiny depot that had
been built specifically for the excursion trains. People stood all around,
chatting, pointing, and laughing happily as they waited for the train to
make ready. Frank was elated as he stood peeping from the engine shed. He'd
already moved the locomotive around in the yard so that she sat simmering
patiently, already coupled to the two restored passenger cars that had sat
in the yard for years, just waiting for the trip. "Boys you've got a good
looking crowd out there. You'll end up having to run two trains today!" We
stared at him in amazement. "Two trains?! We didn't plan for that. Can we
do that?" Frank bellowed a hearty laugh. "Well, since it's your railroad, I
guess you can do what ever you damn-well please!" Seth and I both chuckled
at the man's humor, but he suddenly grew more serious. "I wanna tell you
boys something. I'm proud to work with you! It's been a long time since
I've had this much enjoyment doing any work around the shop. You boys,
especially you Jessie, have got what it takes to keep this old teapot
running, to keep the dream I've seen in your eyes come alive in some other
young boy's eyes some day! That being said, I wanna give you a little gift,
something you can remember me by." Frank reached onto the wooden workbench
along the front wall of the shop and brought something shiny into view; it
was a locomotive whistle. "Boys I took this whistle off my old engine
before I left the Southern all those years ago; Crosby three chime. She's a
beauty, make your hair stand up when she echoes! I want you to have this."
I found my voice shaking as I tried to reply. "Frank I can't tell you what
an honor this is, but we can't take this. This is something dear to your
heart, we can't take this." Frank's face softened. "I know it's dear to my
heart, that's why I want you to have it! Now let's get this thing on and
get those people on that train so you can get going!" Frank was right, the
whistle was beautiful! How it echoed through the hills as the train rumbled
along the track. Though it was one of the happiest days of my life, I cried
uncontrollably. It was as if with each blast of the whistle I could hear or
feel Gram and Grandpa with me. Each time the whistle sounded I thought of
Grandpa, how he'd dreamed of doing exactly what I was doing at that moment!
"Well Grandpa, you may not have got to then, but I know you're here with me
today." Seth smiled gently, and when no one was around to watch, hugged me
tightly. "I'm so proud of you, and I know your grandparents would be too!"
I pulled him close, leaving the throttle for a moments as the train rumbled
along, and placed a tender kiss on his lips. "Do you know how much I love
you?" He smiled and kissed me once more before turning to his shovel. "Do
you know how much I love you?" Though one of the happiest of my life, that
day was brutal. Seth and I swapped jobs per trip so that neither would be
totally exhausted, but we still felt weary and worn by the end of the day,
but two trips along the line later, two tired and sore backs, and a late
evening spent soaking in the tub together, found Seth and I lying in bed,
discussing the day's happenings. I stared at the kind, wonderful man lying
next to me. How I loved him! He'd been so patient, so gentle today with
children and elderly as they shuffled around the train, asking questions
and pointing. My heart had melted when a tiny boy from Rawlins had ran up
to him, his elderly grandmother trailing with a camera, and Seth had
swooped him up and stood grinning widely for a picture with the little
boy. He'd spent a good half hour chatting with an elderly man, winking
mischievously at me as the elderly man wanted more to tell his stories than
ask questions about the train. I found myself desperately wanting to show
this man how much I did love him. "Seth?" "Mmmm?" "Seth do you really,
honestly know how much I love you?" He stared bemusedly at me for a
moment. "Where's this come from?" Though they were from sheer,
unadulterated happiness, I found tears forming in my eyes. "Seth if you
never hear anything else I say to you, I need you to know that I love you
with all my heart." He cradled me gently in his arms and chest. "Baby I do
know. You've loved me with a more passionate, more open, more honest love
than anyone ever has! But do you know how much I love you?" "Show me." He
smiled gently at me. "Don't you think we're both a little tired tonight?"
His only protest was a gasp as I reached suddenly down to his groin and
grabbed the, though soft, massive cock that lay between his thighs. "Then
let me show you."