When I was a boy, my father was very friendly with a bloke up the road who drove the AB-class steam locomotives which were used for almost everything except main line long-haul journeys. By American, and by most British standards, the ABs were small, although they were in the normal configuration, i.e. they pulled tenders and were not tank engines. The railway track gauge in New Zealand is only 3ft 6in, narrow gauge, so you get the idea.
I was asked (at about age 8 or 9) if I'd like to go on a trip on the footplate of an AB. I ask you, you offer a boy the opportunity to ride in the engine and even dream that he'll say no?
The journey was from a town south of Dunedin called Milton up a branch line through some reasonably rugged country to a town called Roxburgh. The purpose of the trip was to bring the substantive portion of the annual stone fruit harvest down to the coast, Roxburgh being in what is known as Central Otago, river flats ringed by mountains.
The AB locos had semi-open cabs; that is they were not weatherproof - or smokeproof. There were twelve tunnels on the line, none of them very long but they were long enough that the smoke from the funnel would quickly accumulate in the cab. To alleviate this, the fireman and I lay down on the cab floor under wet sacks. The driver put a wet rag around his mouth and nose and wore a pair of beaten-up goggles over his eyes. Talk about Casey Jones! Not the most pleasant of experiences, but, hey, it was novel as all get out to me!
