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I was in the library,
attempting to get my email when the deluge hit. For nearly an
hour, waves of rain flooded the dark streets filled with rush hour
headlights attempting to navigate the reflective din. A
spectacular lightning display began halfway through the mahstrom.
Brilliant bolts found their way to distant targets, then as
quickly as it all started, the storm was over. The air was cool,
the birds shook themselves off, the populace of Sanford returned
to the sidewalks and the vendors resumed setting up frail stands
in the now flooded park. The rain had killed any chance of
motorcycle traffic for this night.
The next day, although
without the rain, was much the same. Vendors were open and all
wondering where the patrons were. When it became obvious that this
was not going to be a busy spot, I got out a couple of blank
panels and got busy creating new designs for eventual display. A
few of my regular customers stopped by with accolades to say about
how they enjoy the email stories I send. During these brief
exchanges, I get caught up on the news of what is going on in
their lives and hear a story or two about motorcycling fun. One
couple, whom I have been painting for, for years, first on their
motor home, then on their Harley-Davidson truck and now on their
Goldwing Trike, shared with me that they not only look forward to
receiving the next exciting episode of “Tales of a Traveling
Airbrush” but they are printing them out and saving them in a
folder. Their suggestion to me is right in line with my intention
for these essays and that is to write a book with the entire
collection of these stories along with a multitude of pictures of
the murals, designs and artworks created during the three decades
plus career so far.
Another fascinating
conversation took place with a man that really has an interesting
job. He works on one of the maintenance crews at Disney and is a
roller coaster specialist that works on all the coasters
worldwide. He told me that someone walks the track of every
coaster every day, to visually inspect the rails and joints and,
with a special hammer, hits the structural steel to listen for the
special ringing sound that proves the integrity of the steel is
intact and not cracked. As we talked, I was able to share an
experience I had around the wooden roller coaster that was at the
amusement park in Tennessee where I was the decorative mural and
sign painter in the spring, years ago, as they prepared to open
each season. The coaster, after sitting idle all winter, had
developed a thick coat of rust on the track from the non-use. The
rust inhibited the free movement of the train and took several
trips to wear down to fresh steel before the train would move very
fast. The first trip of each season was agonizingly slow and with
crossed fingers, the crew hoped that the train would make it over
all the humps so that they wouldn’t have to winch the train up
from one of the valleys.
My friend was able to
recall several interesting stories about similar episodes that
only a coaster guy would know about. One crew from Europe
had a train “valleyed”, as they call it, and rather than use
the standard procedure of climbing up and using come-alongs hooked
up to the track ahead to pull the train over the hump, they came
along with an elaborate and large mechanical winch system mounted
on a piece of equipment that was not exactly portable enough to
place where it was needed. The complex system they came up with
involved climbing and rigging one long cable to distant points and
re-rigging with the same system multiple times to accomplish the
same result as with the simpler come-alongs, and rather than the
project taking an hour to complete, the project took half a day
and a lot of effort to accomplish. From time to time “keep it
simple” is best and working smart often involves knowing what
not to do.
Sometimes I am
surprised to find out what someone thinks is important about their
job. After all this talk about this fascinating facet of show
business, I asked my new friend what was the most memorable and
remarkable achievement of his career. I was expecting to hear some
involved sequence of agonizing engineering research that yielded a
breakthrough in the annuls of roller coaster history in Paris or a
precedent set in California that initiated a worldwide standard
for ride size, speed or comfort that brought about a new echelon
in the history of amusement devices but I found out a memory of
something very different that this man cherishes from all his
years with coasters.
One guest, years ago,
was a mentally challenged, disabled adult with the mind of a
child, part of a group that was being escorted to the attractions
of the park and assisted on and off of many rides. The group was
stalled, as the result of the anguish suffered by this person who
had lost her blanket on Space Mountain.The dedication of the ride
crew and the willingness to do whatever it takes to provide a good
experience to the guests at Disney prompted the Space Mountain
coaster crew to shut down the ride and call the maintenance crew
for an emergency inspection session. They then turned on the
interior lighting and combed every foot of the maze of track and
every nook and cranny inside the attraction for the missing furry
little quarry.
With a sparkle of joy
evident in his eyes, my guest continued the story of how they were
able to re-unite this child with her lost “blankie.”
When she was reunited with this seemingly common item, the
magnitude of glee the child expressed touched his heart as they
got this group of guests back on their way enjoying their Disney
experience.
As this sparsely
attended motorcycle show winds down to fizzle off to nothing, I
get a valuable reinforcement in his story that fortifies the walk
I am on. This heartwarming story is just another reminder that the
true source of our ongoing joy is found during our relentless
service to one another.
Happy Trails,
Dave
"Letterfly" Knoderer
Letterfly.com
Letterfly@aol.com |
