One Jug at a time (and I don't mean beer . . . )

 Greentowner - you might care to open a beer. . . (or two?)

Certain members of our organisation have suggested, somewhat unkindly, that the solution to the dilemma facing one of our number in respect of a leaking petrol tank car with inflammatory-tendency's was to stick a piece of suitably-prepared chewing gum over the source of the leak and walk away - problem solved.

Close, but no cigar. . .!

(Chewing gum doesn't stick on a petrol-covered surface. . )

The solution was even more ridiculous - water!!

The Signalman's logic was simple (at least, he thought so (command decisions and all that)).  Put out the source of the problem - the incandescent hot box, and so stop the fire.  Without the hotbox, the petrol couldn't ignite and, with the high, rising, wind, the fumes would be blown away.

The petrol would also evaporate, and, if everything was done carefully, there would be no 'loud noises' and the Newmarket railway yard would be secure for another day - or at least, until the next 'spot of bother' - what ever that might be.

Now, it would be reasonable, Dear Reader, to expect that, somewhere within the average railway yard there would be a water tap connected to the local domestic water system, and this expectation would, on average, be justified - but NOT at NZ Railways Newmarket!!.

There were no taps, no hoses, no fire-hydrants - the yard might as well have been in the middle of the Sahara - zilch water anywhere!.

Well, not quite - there WAS some water available - in the Signal box - an ordinary, common, domestic cold tap, over an ordinary, common, domestic sink!

The only problem was that, said tap was a mere 785 steps away - one way!

And how did the signalman know that that was the number of steps?

Because, very reluctantly, he walked every single one - always expecting that the next was to be his last, as he, equally reluctantly. turned his back on the cause of his present problem - one weeping tank car, and one cherry-red axle box.

And the fire still flickered!!

Having survived the 785 steps, and regained the comparative safety of his signal box (Yard tower), the signalman then made an interesting discovery.

Within the 'box was a reel-type water fire hose, with a 'reach' of some 40 feet, and no Fire Extinguishers or any other sort of fire-fighting appliance at all - and the fire still flickered on (he only had to look outside the window to see that  it was . . .)

So, what to do - no fire extinguisher, no fire hose of any length, and a 'flaming' problem which had to be fixed?

Eventually, the signalman came to an appalling conclusion - the only way that he was going to be able to get water to the fire was to use an ordinary, everyday domestic enamel electric jug (kettle) (coloured green) and convey minuscule amounts of water (perhaps 11/2 litres if he was lucky) the 785 steps (one way!) to the fire - and return - again, and again, and again - until?

And the fire still flickered!

And so it proved!

The signalman made 6 return trips to the source of all his problem - counting every one of the 785 steps as he went, carrying his small, green, enamel jug with its 1 1/2 litres of water, and dutifully pouring it over the axle.

 It was as he was shielding his face from the heat and about to pour the first lot of water over the axlebox, that the signalman remembered an edict from Head Office which stated that 'Under no circumstances was water to be poured over overheated axle boxes as it would cause severe distortion and breakage of the axle and bearing'

With a certain feeling of enjoyable-disobedience, he went ahead and poured the water over the axlebox anyway!

Finally, six round-trips later the fire was out - the axlebox looking its normal grey shade, though there were just a few brown patches where the 'heat treatment' had been a bit too effective.

The space between the point blades was given a couple of jugs of water as well - 'just in case'!

'Normalcy' (whatever that may mean) returned, and a very relieved signalman returned to his lair - still holding his small, green, enamel electric jug - capable of holding (at maximum) 1 1/2 litres - the unsung hero of the whole affair.

And after that?

An anticlimax really - the local shunt came and picked up all but one of the wagons in the yard, and very carefully, using  a box wagon as a spacer between it and the problematical tank car, placed the damaged (and still weeping) tanker on an out of the way siding, where it was repaired during the day (the leak being caulked to prevent further problems) and later taken onwards to its destination.

The petrol dispersed - evaporated, as the signalman had hoped and life carried on as usual - trains, trains, and more trains - a signalman's life.

The matter was duly reported to the appropriate authorities, but, perhaps unsurprisingly, nothing was ever heard back from Head Office!!

And that's it folks - another little interlude in Komata's life - I hope you have found it of interest - and yes, it is all true! (but you knew that anyway didn't you?)

And the little green enamel electric jug?  The last I heard was that it had been discarded- worn out through use over many years, and replaceded by a modern., all plastic  el-cheapo unit bought at the local K-mart equivalent - sci transit gloria etc).

As usual, thank you all for your reading, and interest, and, of course. . .

Happy modelling

Komata

"TVR - serving the Northern Taranaki . . . "