#ttte fred

From left to right we have: Skarloey, Rheneas, Sir Handel, Ivo Hugh, Duncan, Peter Sam, Duke, Rusty, and Fred.

Skarloey Railway (RWS members)

And here's Fred in between stage 2 - 3

Fred doubts anyone enjoys the Maintenance Train

Fred is a very lazy diesel, a very, very lazy diesel. When he had been built, it had been to aid Rusty with the trackwork and the maintenance trains; in actuality, it was a miracle if the gangers could get Fred started most mornings, the diesel often having 'ignition troubles'.

"Alf on the Talyllyn doesn't act like this," muttered Skarloey irritably as he watched the diesel moan and complain about being unable to do any of the work asked of him because "he felt ill in his valves". Rusty sighed. "We can't simply compare them - you know how that ends up going." Skarloey winced, remembering the incident where someone had compared Duncan to the Talyllyn Railway's Douglas, and in return had been cussed out until they cried. "But, we can be annoyed."

Unfortunately, none of the engines knew what to do - none that is, except Sir Handel.

It was a cool Autumn day, and Fred had been forced out of the shed to help look after some track maintenance near the tunnel. He complained bitterly as he grumbled his way up the line, finally dumping the trucks off to one side. Sir Handel puffed by with some empty trucks for the quarry.

"You look like you're having fun," he said with a grin. "You try having fun with maintenance work," sniffed Fred. "I don't think you even know how to do trackwork, let alone have fun doing it!" Sir Handel chuckled, and slowed to a stop. "You really think that, don't you?" he said. Fred rolled his eyes. "Everyone and their grandma knows you hate trucks!"

Sir Handel scoffed, but didn't deny it. Instead, he got a twinkle in his eye. "Say - how about we swap jobs? I'll look after the maintenance train, and you can look after my trucks. Whoever complains first loses." "That's an easy bet!" snorted Fred, already being uncoupled from his trucks. "You're on!"

And so it was arranged. Sir Handel took charge of the maintenance train and the cranes, while Fred buffered up to Sir Handel's trucks and set off for the slate mine.

Fred had a horrible time, bouncing along the track as the trucks laughed and jeered and bumped him about. Worse yet, at the quarry he had to shunt all the trucks about, and they made his life even worse. Their brakes slipped 'on', they ran hotboxes, couplings snapped, and Fred got a very good idea as to why Sir Handel hated trucks as much as he did.

By the time Fred had gotten his trucks together and begun making his way back down the line, he was more than ready to throw in the towel.

Then, he rounded the bend, and saw Sir Handel happily chatting to a couple of the gangers who were on their break, all while using his steam to keep their tools warm. "What? How?!" spluttered Fred, skidding to a halt as the trucks banged into his again. "Trackwork is so boring - you should be bored! Why aren't you bored?!"

Sir Handel looked over, and sighed. "Oh Fred," Sir Handel sighed, "I like trackwork because I'm good at it - I'm experienced, if you will." "No you're not." "I am." "I've never seen you touch the cranes before! Rusty works maintenance - you don't need to lie to make your point!"

Sir Handel scowled. "I am not lying! I did trackwork on my old railway!" He paused, looking a little sad. Fred just stared; he knew of Sir Handel, Peter Sam and Duke's old railway, but the three did not like telling stories of the little railway in the hills they'd worked on. "Really?" "Yes - especially towards the end. Duke kept making sure we were in the best mechanical shape Peter Sam and I could be in, at the detriment to his own health, so… I did the trackwork. I thought, if I could keep the track smooth and nice, that Duke wouldn't wheeze so much, and the trucks would stop jumping the points."

Sir Handel looked at the maintenance train and sighed, looking very tired.

"Our line still closed in the end, but I remember how to do this very well. I enjoyed it, even. No rushing about according to timetables, no dirty trucks. Just a chance to be helpful and talk to the people who keep our line running. Did you know Jenny here has a son? He's about to turn thirteen, and he wants to volunteer on our line too?"

Fred did not.

Jenny beamed at the recognition though. "My mother worked for you all, and so it's becoming a family tradition by now! She polished you engines though, while I like getting my hands dirty. My son - Rob - well, he's more of a cleaner like my ma." "Who was your mother?" quizzed Sir Handel, looking over. "Why, Nancy of course!"

Sir Handel stared in amazement. "You don't say!"

Fred sidled away, feeling like he had learnt a lot. It was clear to him that Sir Handel saw trackwork as more than just a chore, but a chance to talk and experience the world from the gangers' eyes, to be really useful and do his part for the railway that had rescued him after his old railway closed.

Fred could respect that.

Didn't mean he'd start working harder, of course - but he could respect it!

Peter Sam: "Oh look, it's Fred!"

Fred: "Thanks for noticing me."

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Rheneas: "Oh, good morning Fred!"

Fred: "If it is a good morning, which I doubt it."