There is no sweet sixteen-cylinder symphony today.
No mechanical melody idling a rhythmic 2-stroke reverberation of revolutions-per-minute, no rumbling of compressors or quick staccato crack from governors resounding throughout the amphitheater.
The conductor has placed his baton on the podium and stepped down from the rostrum, leaving only the unceasing desert breezes to fill in for the woodwind section as they gently rustle among the dwarf yucca and barren mesquite and moan and whistle about handrails and Flexicoil trucks, the muted winter afternoon sun setting a mood of melancholy as it casts soft against the flanks and form of a once-grand concert mistress.
But the atmosphere of despondency is a false one, for there is a renaissance in the barren lands to the west which requires the services of tractive effort and horsepower that has been the forte of our dames fortes for nearly a half-century.
The ticket holders might do well to check the schedule.
Rick Malo©2020
With a long string of brand new tank cars stretching south towards the interchange with the Union Pacific in Monahans, Texas, Watco SD40 and a sibling are silent as they rest adjacent to the yard office on the mainline of the Texas-New Mexico Railroad at 2:10 on the afternoon of January 6th, 2020.