Roseville Foamers Race Report

Yesterday, I borrowed my wife's BNSF Pumpkin Orange and Green Daihatsu Charade,
for a trip down by the Roseville Yard for a little railfanning action, with
Jim, Kim, Jeff, and Chris, as Chris had never went foaming with us before.

One litre of raw power, 3 cylinders of asphalt-tearing terror
on thirteen-inch rims. It's stock, alright, nothing done to it, but
it pushes the barely 2000 pounds of BNSF Charade around with
AUTHORITY. I'm always catching mopeds and 18-wheelers
by surprise...

We were headed back to the Amtrak Station after attending International Railfair
and picked up some coffees, me with my manly triple-latte cappuccino blast
("No Cinnamon, ma'am, I take it BLACK"), when we stopped at the Church St and Washington
Way streetlight. Jeff snapped a shot of the station from the stop, as the Charade
throbbed its throaty idle around us. I sipped my bold beverage and wiped the white froth from my
stiff upper lip. We were minding my own business, but then I heard a rev
from the next lane.








Jeff rolled down the window, turned, made eye contact, then I let my eyes trace over
the competition. Ford Festiva -- a late model sporting a big Union Pacific Wing
sticker, could be trouble. Low profile tires, curb feelers, and Armor
yellow paint. Yep, a hot rod, for sure, No doubt he was railfanning
the nearby Pacific Street Feather River line. Jim reached over and
slapped the back of my head, saying you can take him!

The howl of his motor snapped my reverie, and I looked back
into the driver's eyes, nodded, then blipped my own throttle.
As I tugged on my driving gloves and slipped on my sunglasses
(gotta look cool to be fast, and I am *damn* cool, hence...),
the afternoon was split with the sound of seven screaming cylinders...

Then the light turned... I almost had him out of the hole,
my three pounding cylinders thrusting us at least a millimetre
back into out seats, as smoke pouring from my front right tire...
my unlimited slip differential was letting me down! I saw in
the corner of my eyes, a yellow snout gaining, and I heard
the roar of his four cylinders. He slung by us, right front
wheel juddering against the pavement, and he flashed me a
smile as his .3 extra liters of motor stretched its legs.
I kept my foot gamely in it, though, waiting for the CHECK
ENGINE light to blink on in the one-gauge (no tachometer here!)
instrument panel. I saw a glimpse of chrome under his bumper,
and knew the ugly truth...

He was running a custom exhaust -- probably a 2-into-1 dual
exhaust... maybe even cutouts! Damn his hot-rod soul! The old
lady passing us on the pedestrian crossing cast a dirty look
in our boy-racer direction, as Kim yelled out, There's a new
SD70ACe, and snapped a couple shots!





Continued...

 

Yet still I persisted, with my three pumping pistons singing
a heady high-pitched song, wound fully out. Though only a few
handfuls of seconds had passed, we were nearing the pedestrian
crossing at the other side of the intersection, and I heard
the note of his engine change as he made his shift to second,
and I saw his grin in his rearview mirror fade as he missed
the shift! I rocketed by, shifting, and nursed the clutch
gently in to keep from bogging, keeping my motor spinning
hot and pulling us ahead, now trailing a cloud of stinking
clutch smoke. Not ready to give up so easily, he left his
foot in it, revving, and I heard one wheel *almost* chirp as
he finally found second and dropped the clutch. We careened
over the Grant Street crosswalk, now going at
least 15 miles per hour. A bicyclist passed us, but intent on
the race as we were, neither of us batted an eye.

He pulled slowly abreast of me, and neck and neck, we made
the shift to third, the scream of motors deafening all
pedestrians within a five foot circle. He nosed ahead as
we passed 30 miles an hour, then eased in front of me,
taunting, as we shifted into fourth. I was staring up
the dual 6" chrome tips of his exhaust, snarling, my
cappuccino forgotten, as he lifted a little to take the
corner in front of the locomotive maintenance operations shed.
I spotted an ES44AC with is't access panels open, showing the
prime mover, and snapped offa couple quick ones.








Back to the issue at hand, I saw my opportunity, and counting on the
innate agility of my trusty steed, I pulled wide into the number two lane
and kept my foot buried in carpet. Slowly, I inched around
him, feeling my Charade roll slowly to the left as I came
abreast in the midst of the Ash Street turn. I felt
the Daihatsu ease onto its suspension stops, and felt the right
rear wheel slowly leave the ground - no matter, though, because
my drive wheels, up front, were pulling me through the corner,
and around the Festiva.

The Ford driver beat his wheel in rage as my wife's car eased
past him on the outside, my P155/80R13's screaming in protest,
as we raced to the Cedar Street entrance. We coasted down, neck-and neck,
to wait for a livestock trailer to clear his turn. While waiting for the
trailer to clear the way, Kim called out "Dash 8, and a D&RGW Tunnel" and took the shots!







Continued...

 

I tightened my driving gloves, ready for
another round, when this WIMP in the next car meekly flipped
his turn signal and made a right onto Duranta Street.
Daihatsu superiority reigns!!!

We drove off sipping our masculine drinks, awash in my sheer
virility, looking for other unwitting targets.... Perhaps a
Yugo, or maybe even that Volkswagon Van I seen down by the
Pit Road entrance, but then we heard the rumble of a C45ACCTE lashup moving in the yard,
and Jeff said, let the foaming begin!




Rotaries in the yard:




Neat detail, a safety flag stand:




The yard is full of remote control locos, and warning signs are everywhere:



We also went to the International Railfair, and the California State Railroad Museum, but that's another story.

 

After the race we did a little foaming by the Livestock Auction hill:
[ame="http://youtube.com/watch?v=8BdmcYDaGpQ"]YouTube - BAZ Field Trip[/ame]

[ame="http://youtube.com/watch?v=7ntqKdRREIA"]YouTube - BAZ Field Trip[/ame]

 

Great narrative, Robert! A good chuckle for sure!
Some of the pics are red x's.....

 

Robert, your comments about byciclest reminds me of a Simpson episode. It was homer chasing his neighbor. His neighbor was driving away with the family in a Chevy, and Homer was running. Homer was trying to catch the car, and the wife is telling the husband to step on it, to wich the reply," I can't, its a Geo".

 

Ha ha ha! Great stuff. Reminds me of railfanning adventures, with my 1972 Honda Coupe. Which had a 598CC air cooled motor.

Boxcab E50

 

I'm glad everyone liked our story! We did have a lot of fun in Roseville, and now everyone want to go to BNSF's Stockton Yard to do a bit of railfanning next!

 

Today I received a "LIKE" for the media in my Roseville Trip folder, and when I clicked on it, the photo of the SP Roseville Depot reminded me of this post. Although the cars are so old that most don't remember those models, the story (part fact part fiction) is funny, and brought back memories of the day. I hope you enjoy this blast from the past as much as I do.

 

I read this narrative with the same edge-of-the-seat attentiveness as the first time seeing it, but alas, I learned I had not only read it before, but commented on it as well. It was still a great laugh, and I could hear Jeremy Clarkson hollering "POWAHHHHHH!!!" and "53 of the finest Japanese horsepowers!" and not to be forgotten, "Hammonnnnnnnddddd!!!!!!"