On a cold day in February 1993, another manifest climbs the same grade. Although many railfans do not like the NS paint scheme, I have always been fond of the black stallion. In the time I lived in Belleville, I never saw a filthy NS engine. Also, in those days, the line into St. Louis (originally part of the Southern Railroad) was dispatched by track warrant out of Somerset, Kentucky, a town of about 11,000 south 80 miles from Lexington. When listening on my scanner, I always thought that the dispatchers sounded as though they were sitting in a small office or a large closet. I don't know how many other lines were dispatched from Somerset, but the dispatchers were always loquacious, as though they were bored and wanted someone to talk to. Instead of the curt replies common to dispatchers, these gentleman would often engage in long conversations with the train crews, often discussing sporting events or family matters. The conversations reminded me of a long ago past, when life was slower and human attention spans were longer than a fruit fly's. |
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