Training Day, p.
Knowing of my interest in trains, Tom asked me if I would like to accompany him last Saturday for the hour's drive up to Portola to help work on the diesel. Although he may have known of my loco-motivation, Tom was apparently unaware of my mechanical ineptitude. Normally, I need to make several trips to the hardware store before I can change a light bulb. My workshop dyslexia often causes me to measure twice and cut three times.
|Tom Gray, on the other hand, thinks nothing of taking on the job of repairing numerous systems on his newly-painted locomotive, from its twin 600 HP Cummings diesels down to its wheel trucks.|
It was therefore
the ultimate in male bonding experiences when Tom handed me a giant-size
ratchet wrench and explained how to detach some pneumatic hoses underneath
the locomotive. Lying on my back, with tons of cold dirt-encrusted train
engine inches above my head, surrounded by the dank aroma of aged grease
may not sound appealing to most folks. But some of you may understand.