It was the fall of 1985, in the little town wedged between the river and the dark hills. Unlike many small mill towns in the northwest corner of the country, this town had kept it's industries and thrived, still proudly boasting along it's roman grid streets a college, four schools, and a hospital, to name but a few highlights. All went well, and the mill pumped out paper and tax money, (the first by rail, the second by check,) and as long as the residents of the town could pretend the mill did not exist, but have it's money to spend, life was good.

At least, it was for all but Officer Springbrook, whose job it was to see that traffic on the Big Highway continued at a smooth and orderly pace. Alas, some baffoon had long ago built the spur from the mainline to the mill so that it crossed the Big Highway at grade, meaning that every day, the traffic stacked up and stacked up and stacked up, while boxcars in strings that must have measured in miles moved slowly behind the mill's aging switcher out to the siding on the main.

Now it happened that the town had finally had enough of it too, and decided that the mill's switcher must make drivers wait no more than ten minutes. And so armed with this, Officer Springbrook showed up one day with a stopwatch besides the crossing. Bill Hanley, a switchman with the mill switcher's crew, spotted him first, and pointed him out to the Hogger up in the locomotive's cab.

"What's he up to?" Said Hanley.

The Hogger shook his head but narrowed his eyes too.

Slowly, the switcher, covered in the muck and grease and grime that the prim town would rather forget existed, pulled slower to the road, and the gates went down, and the traffic stopped. Springbrook looked down at his watch. He did not look up from it as they entered the road and passed his figure, and indeed, when they had finally reached the curve, and lost site of him, he was still standing there, staring at his watch.

As Hanley, the Hogger, and the other switchman did their work in the small yard beside the mainline, they gave no further thought to the deranged officer they had passed, and went about setting out their two or three dozen cars for the Hauler to pick up that evening. After they were done, Hanley brought the engine back to make a hook with a string of empties, inbounds for the mill.

"Stretchem! In between! Settem up! RE-lease! Worky-worky!" The movements he made on the ground were so fast, and the words said so smoothly, they became more like a song than individual words anymore. Soon enough, he was back on the steps of the switcher, the Hogger's head above him leaning out the cab window as they made their way back to the mill.

Things changed, however, when they came around the corner and could see down the long track to the highway. Down in the distance, Officer Springbrook had pulled his police cruiser across the tracks, his flashers on. As they slowed to a stop a few carlengths short of his car, Springbrook got out and walked over to the engine.

"You the engineer?" He called up to the cab.

The Hogger got off his seat and came out of the cab. Hanley moved out of his way as he made his way to the ground and faced Springbrook.

"Yes, I'm the engineer," the Hogger said in a sunday morning voice.

Springbrook handed a paper receipt over to him. "You've blocked traffic on the highway for sixteen and one-half minutes, violating the city's ordinances. This is a ticket. Your court date is on it."

"Excuse me?" Hanley said, stepped forward. The Hogger held out one of his oversized arms and held him back. Hanley stepped back and shut his trap.

"Five hundred dollars?" The Hogger said. "That's a mighty large amount of money for a few minutes delay. Now what's this about some City Ordinances?"

"Town ordinances require that grade crossing," Springbrook pointed towards the highway, as if there had ever been anywhere else he had meant, "not be blocked by your train for more than ten minutes. It's an important highway and it inconveniences the entire town every time you block it. And today, you blocked it for sixteen and --"

"Sixteen and one-half. Yes, I heard you," replied the Hogger. "The Mill Switch handles a couple dozen cars each day, every day, out to the main. We just can't go any faster, they weigh too much and the track is too poor."

"Not my problem," said Springbrook.

"What do you expect us to do?"

"Not block the crossing for more than ten minutes. Obviously."

"I see."

"I assume you understand the ticket? Good, good. As I said, the court date is on the back. You may appear to contest the ticket, or you may simply send in the fine and not have to appear at all, your choice." Springbrook walked back towards the cruiser, and reaching in, turned off the flashers. "Oh, and tomorrow, I expect you won't take more than ten minutes to cross that highway."

Hanley watched him drive away, muttering under his breath. Once he was out of earshot, he began to pummel the Hogger with his thoughts on Springbrook and his damnable ten minutes. The Hogger let him ramble and vent, and then peered at him through his thin glasses. "You done?"

Hanley threw up his arms in the air.

"You young brakies," the Hogger said, shaking his head.

"What will we do?" Hanley asked.

"Until tomorrow morning, there is nothing we can do."

So the crew finished their work for the day in silence, and Hanley could not even get the satisfaction, as they cut the cars and spotted them where they were needed, of a few hard joints to let off some frustration. So after work, he went down to the local dive, and had a few too many, drinking to the health or lack thereof of Officer Springbrook.

***

Morning. The Hogger whistled in the cab as he read a morning paper and drank coffee out of a flaking green thermos. Hanley, late and with a drum section playing in his head, flew on his feet from his house twelve blocks away, and showed up on the switcher steps panting, flushed, and all-in-all a sad excuse for a railroader.

"Sorry I'm late," he said between gasps up to the cab. "I ran as fast as I --"

"Good morning, Bill. Don't worry about it, we're in no hurry."

Hanley, if he wasn't awake yet, was by now. Sensing something strange, he began to look about him, and noted that the other switchman was not present, and mentioned this to the Hogger.

"Mac won't be coming," The Hogger replied. "We won't be needing him. Just you and me today."

"How many?"

"Fifteen loads, two empties."

"Seventeen."

The Hogger nodded. "Seventeen cars."

"Should we get started?"

The Hogger sighed. "Can't a man get to read the paper for once in his life? Oh, very well. Put on your gloves, boy. You'll need them today."

As on any other day, the switcher went about assembling it's outbound cars in the tiny two track yard of the mill, and once they were together, Hanley walked up towards the cab to ride his way up to the mainline. Today, though, the Hogger leaned out the window and frowned.

"Where you going?"

"To ride up with you."

A head shook. "Cut off after the last car."

Hanley stopped. "Cut after the last car?"

The Hogger nodded.

"Umm...."

"Just do it, Hanley!" The head disappeared back in the window.

"In between! A-head!" As the engine and it's one car pulled away from the remaining string, Hanley grabbed onto the car's side ladder and swung himself up it in one practiced move, prepared to ride the rest of the way to the mainline from there. But as they approached the highway, the engine slowed, and slowed, and then stopped a few carlengths short of the crossing.

"Hanley," the Hogger's voice said over the radio. "Come up here."

Hanley alighted from the car, paced up to the engine, and climbed into the cab.

"Why are we stopped?" He asked.

The Hogger nodded towards the highway. "What do you see there?"

"Officer Springbrook!"

"Now, go sit in the fireman's seat, and dig out your watch."

"I don't have to dig it out, it's on my wrist."

"Then go stare at your wrist."

Hanley shook his head but did as he was told.

"Now listen to me real carefully. I want you to stare at that watch. Not at the good policeman, not at the pretty girls on the sidewalk, not at the dogs chasing us as we go by. At your watch, and only your watch, no matter what. That is your job for today. Follow?"

"Yessir."

"Now, when you hear those bells on those gates up ahead, mark the time in your mind. Then count off exactly nine minutes. Exactly, understand? Nine minutes, no more. And when you see nine minutes pass on that fancy wristwatch of yours, you yell 'now' at me. Got it?"

"Got it."

"Good. Nine minutes, boy, and your eyes on the watch the whole time. Until I tell you otherwise."

Hanley heard the brakes release, and a couple of clicks from the throttle. A slight jerk and they began to move, but slowly. And then came the telltale bells, clank, clank, clank, clank. And then... they stopped! He was sure of it, they had stopped, but he dared not defy the Hogger's orders and raise his eyes from his watch. His belief was confirmed, though, as he heard the Hogger begin to speak to someone out the cab window... someone who turned out to be Officer Springbrook.

Hogger: "Good morning, officer!"

Springbrook: "Mornin. Why have you stopped?"

Hogger: "We just had to fix something. We'll be moving soon."

Springbrook: "As long as it's within ten minutes. Say, that's a mighty short train. What gives?"

Hogger: "Sometimes they're short, sometimes they're long."

Then Hanley heard the strangest sound... the sound of eight clicks. And then he knew, and with the one hand unencumbered by a watch, he held tight to his seat. The minutes, slowly, ticked by, and the sound of the engine began to pitch louder and louder and louder.

Six minutes.

Springbrook: "Say, you sure everything is running okay? Your engine sure sounds loud."

Seven minutes.

Hogger: "Naw, she's just a bit moody today."

Eight minutes.

Springbrook: "Well could you get it moving soon? You're running out of time."

Nine minutes. Hanley shouted "NOW!" so loud he was sure he heard it echo back off the hills at him. Then he heard the brakes release below the Hogger's hand, and the engine jackrabbitted forward, making the loudest racket as the car behind groaned into motion with them. As they ran full tilt down the track, the Hogger closed the throttle and began to apply the brakes, and soon enough the bells of the crossing went silent behind them.

"Time!" The Hogger shouted.

"Nine minutes and twenty-eight seconds."

"Excellent."

Applying a little throttle, the Hogger went back to business as usual, and soon enough they were making their run back towards the mill. As they crossed the highway, the Hogger waved once at Officer Springbrook, who only stared in return.

"What about the rest of our outbounds?" Hanley asked.

"We'll get them."

Once back a the mill yard, the Hogger once again had him cut off only one car, but this time he had Hanley come up to the cab before moving off towards the mainline. "Same routine as before, boy."

Again they approached the mainline, and this time Officer Spingbrook was surprised to see them.

Five minutes.

Springbrook: "I thought you were finished...."

Seven minutes.

Hogger: "We forgot one." Click-click-click-click-click-click-click-click went the throttle.

Nine minutes. "Now!" went Hanley. And off they went. And again as they passed on their return to the mill, the Hogger smiled and waved at Officer Springbrook. And again they went to the mill yard, and picked up one car, and returned to the crossing again.

Four minutes.

Springbrook: "Now say, now what? You were just here. And one car again?"

Six minutes.

Hogger: "We forgot one."

Seven minutes. Eight clicks of the throttle.

Springbrook: "You said that last time. Say, you forget anything else back there too?"

Nine minutes. Hanley shouted. Off they went. Back to the mill. Wave at Springbrook. Grab one car. Back to the crossing.

Springbrook: "Now what the Hell is going on? This is too much."

Hogger: "Well now, officer, ten minutes is too little."

Springbrook: "Say what?"

Hogger: "Now we've got thirteen more cars back at the mill. And each time we come through here with one, we take about nine-and-a-half minutes to make our crossing. Now I know us railroaders are dumb sons-of-bitches, and need the likes of you to count for us, but even an uneducated rail like me knows that thirteen cars times nine-and-one-half minutes is a lot more than sixteen minutes."

At six minutes passed, eight clicks of a throttle sounded in the cab, as not a sound emanated from Springbrook on the ground.

"You can look up, boy," said the Hogger, quietly. Then, back out the window he stuck his head. Hanley went around the outside of the cab and stood on the steps behind the Hogger to see better.

"Now," continued the Hogger. "We can do this your way, or you can leave us in peace with our sixteen minutes. Up to you." The Hogger stretched out an arm, and opening the hand at it's end, a gold watch dropped out and then snapped as it reached the end of it's chain, and began to spin and swing like a clock pendulum gone mad. The October sun had never seen something so bright, and it seemed to reflect on everything around it.

And then Hanley felt the locomotive begin to move forward again, rapidly. "Hanley!" The Hogger called. The switchman returned to the cab. "Nine minutes and forty-five. Our record today I think. What's the matter, can't say anything?"

"So now what, back for another car?"

The Hogger shook his head. "We'll take the remaining cut in one move. We'll see no more of Officer Springbrook and his stopwatch."

And sure enough, the next time the switcher came up to the highway, with it's thirteen remaining cars, Officer Springbrook was no-where to be seen.

The Hogger looked up and saw the astonishment on Hanely's face. He smiled. "Officer Springbrook forgot something." Taking off his glasses, the Hogger began to polish them with a shirt-tail. "Railroaders have watches too."  

Back to Top | Back to Contents