Every so often, we are surprised by the fuel levels in the engines when we get them in Forsyth. Sometimes they have way more fuel in them than we expect in Forsyth. Most locomotives can hold about 5,000 gallons of diesel. It is pretty rare to get one full to the top, but sometimes we will check the fuel levels and be surprised that it has around 4,000 gallons in it.
Usually, the surprise comes from a low fuel level. This has actually happened a few times in the last week. The first time it happened, we had 500 gallons in the distributed power locomotive, on the rear of the train. So we called the dispatcher to see what his plan to handle that was. He said, "Do you think you can make it?" We told him we would be fine as long as we could keep moving. It takes a lot more fuel to get to Glendive if we have to stop, and then burn more fuel to get moving again. The dispatcher mumbled something about how he would do his best, and then told us he had a track warrant for us to leave Forsyth. We thought he might want to send a fuel truck, but I guess he was going to try his luck. Well, we did not keep moving very well, and there was about 80 gallons left in that engine when we got to Glendive. At least it had not run out though!
A couple days later we check our fuel in Forsyth, and got a similar surprise. The lead engine was showing exactly 400 gallons in the tank. It was less than one tenth full. Again, we asked the dispatcher what he wanted to do, and we got the same response: "Do you think you can make it?" We told him we had no idea and it would depend how much time we sit idling. Just like last time, he mumbled something and then told us he had a warrant for us. We thought he would want to sent a fuel truck to add just a little to the tank, but that would take time, and he wanted to move us! That trip was actually very slow, and we had to stop at almost every siding. Consequently, we burned more than the standard 300 gallons to get to Glendive. The next time we checked the fuel level was at the Marsh siding, just about 20 miles from Glendive. We had 70 gallons left. But we were stopped, and the dispatcher had already told us we would be stopping, perhaps twice, at Colgate, before he would have a track for us in Glendive.
When we arrived in Colgate, we were to take the siding. But there was already a train in the siding, so we stopped just to the west of the siding. By that point, the fuel gauge said there were 20 gallons left. We were eight miles from town. After a few minutes, the train in the siding pulled out, and we went in, and stopped again, until we got a signal out the other end. Just as the signal went from red to yellow, the fuel gauge indicated zero. The wheelslip on that whole trip had been more than usual. You would not think a few tons of fuel would make much of a difference, but it is noticeable when it is missing. Despite the fuel gauge indicating a dry tank, the engine was still running, and we had every intention of making it to Glendive, even if we coasted! So we started moving again. On some bumps the gauge would jump as high as 20 gallons momentarily, and then return to zero. There was something splashing around in the tank, but it sure was not much!
As we arrived at the west switch in Glendive, we called the roundhouse, as usual, and gave them our fuel readings. That conversation went something like this:
Roundhouse: "How much fuel do you guys have?"
Engineer: "Well the leader shows 20 gallons now, the second unit had 1600 in Forsyth, and the DP had 2200."
Pause
Roundhouse: "I don't think I caught the leader, how much did you say was in that?"
Engineer: "It shows 20 gallons...oh wait, it just went to zero again."
Roundhouse: "Twenty gallons?! As in two zero?! That's a little low, wouldn't you say?"
Engineer: "Yeah, two zero. Well, empty now, but she's still running good though, somehow."
Roundhouse: "We'll send someone over there to fuel you right away. Spot it up for fuel on the main. And is your toilet defective?"
Engineer: "Not that we know of. How does a steel can become defective?"
We spotted the engines for fuel, and then waited for someone from the roundhouse to come over and hook up the pumps and get the fuel flowing into the tanks. In the mean time, the engine just sat there and idled. The gauge had said zero pretty consistently for the last five or six miles, and so while we waited, we were expecting the thing to quit an any second. Surprisingly, when the fuel person arrived, a half hour later, it was still running. After a few minutes of hooking up hoses and getting the pumps turned on, the fuel was finally flowing. The engine never did die, much to our surprise. I guess those fuel gauges read a little low.
Apparently the roundhouse personnel still questioned our defective toilet, because a few minutes later a pipe fitter arrived to take a look at it. He concluded that the flush mechanism was broken, and started disassembling the toilet to replace it. We had not noticed, because we never flush. The toilets on a locomotive consist of a stainless steel bin bolted to the floor. On top of that bin there is a round hole with a plastic toilet seat bolted over it. On one side is the flush lever. Flushing is not like at home though. No fresh water enters the toilet. All it does is pull liquid that has been deposited in the bin by other people and circulate it to the top of the hole, essentially rinsing sewage with sewage. Since that just mixes everything thoroughly and usually creates a rather unpleasant smell, most people prefer not to flush. Besides, you never know what, or who, has touched that lever.
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