Railroad Landscapes: West Virginia — Cleveland — China — Hokkaido — Western U.S. — Portland
What I found in China is the energy of life, the words and music to the song of the nation. In no machine that I’ve ever seen is the melody sweeter, or the lyrics more haunting, or the life more brimming, than in the steam locomotive. It is harnessed energy that begs release, simmering away as the minutes slide lazily by, service men greasing and wiping the pistons and running gear, then throwing rocks and old brakeshoes back and forth while up in the cab the firemen lounge and the driver checks and double checks the maze of gauges on the backplate before him.
It seems that all the day could slip by until the car inspector pulls the red flag off the train. And then the shovels swing into motion as the steam builds and the playing stops and the hiss grows as all the energy rolls up into that one poised, defining moment when the dancer rises to her toes, the runners drop to their marks, the conductor raises his wand as the first note on the oboe brings the concert hall to a hush. It's all there, seething, teeming, fit to burst, full of the life and energy and need for attention that is all of China, and even though the steam locomotive wasn’t invented in China, in China it found its true home. Then the first chuff and the steam rushes out, the over-eager wheels slip, find their grip, and then the train is moving off through the yard, past the switchman’s wave and onto the mainline where the living machine drops into the rhythm of the song of its life that ended all too soon.
