How Far Do You Think To The Next Gas Station?

Day 5 : 25th September 1996

“Dreadful, Sam Adams, where did you get those from?”

This was going to be a long day and indeed the sparrow had yet to consider breaking wind when we trailed into the taxi with full regalia to yet again catch the 0544 Port Jefferson-NY Penn. This produced the same FL9ACs and some fitful doss among the far too lively commuters brought us into NY Penn for a connecting Amtrak P32 up onto the Hudson Valley. This soon showed itself to be in fairly “real” mode and a couple of pairs were spun in before taking a MN P32 up to Cold Spring for a spot of lunch in the pub.

MNRC 2044 passes the beer garden of The Old Station Inn, Cold Spring NY.

A Spaceship down to Tarrytown dropped us in front of an excellent sight as the next North bound arrived lead by MN FP10 no.412, a 1940s veteran (all be it re-built) and defiantly worth a trip. Back at Croton Harmon our next move was fixed at Amtrak train 286 as we needed to be back in Manhattan for our evening train. As Smurf and I mused over the possibility that out luck would hold out for another Amtrak FL9, Barry added sarcastically that it would be 486 as this was his last one. He kept his composure well as 486 squealed to a halt with our train and that was us off back to Penn. A quick leap to Newark and back and a sojourn in Hulahans bought us to the main event of the day; train 49, the 1849 New York-Chicago. THE LAKE SHORE LIMITED!

Another Amtrak P32 saw us through to Albany where the usual faffing of attaching coaches, changing locos and chasing passengers that goes hand in hand with American public transport, saw us depart late with a pair of F40s, Westward bound.

Darkness had already long fallen and with the prospect of a long night on the seats I set off for the Amcafe car with tea in mind. On arrival my eyes fell on an unusual sight. There, behind the counter, gone were the normal poor offering of bottled liquid masquerading as beer, in their place SAMUEL ADAMS! Now that sounded better than tea! Money and goods exchanged, I was presented with three bottles in one of those useless Amtrak food and drink trays. These are a contemptible item of no apparent purpose. Folded out of cardboard similar to that which you find when you un-pack a new shirt, if anything hot is put in them they fold in half and putting drinks in the holders at the ends makes them rip in the middle. American designers, I mean Really!

With the cheerful chink of bottles sans cardboard device, I returned to our seats and presented my discovery to the committee. From part slumber Smurf perked up and, clapping eyes on the bottles, with more pleasure than thought exclaimed “dreadful!, Sam Adams, where did you get those from?”.

My suggestion that I had leant out and grabbed them at 90 miles per from a bar a few miles back amused a number of fellow passengers if not Smurf. Silliness had descended, a truce would be a long time coming.

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