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35 

The engineer presses a button which starts the blower for cooling the traction motors and there is a roar behind us as the big fan goes to work. Then he takes another notch, and another, and another, and soon we're rolling out through the maze of switches and lead-in tracks fanning out from the mouth of the Park Avenue Tunnel. We run at reduced speed until we reach the tunnel. Then the engineer begins to notch her out in earnest. We feel a great wave of power pulsing through this beast we're riding. With 1275 tons behind us, we still seem to surge ahead with each additional click of the accelerating switches. The long arched tunnel now stretches ahead of us filled with brilliant color-light signals. The walls begin to slip by swiftly as we gather speed. The engineer and fireman have their eyes glued to the tunnel bore. They repeat signals to each other as we glide along: "Green--green; green-over-yellow--green-over-yellow." Their voices, the muffled drone of the blower, the periodic thumping of the air compressor, the click and pop of power switches as they close and open, accompany the rapidly increasing beat of steel wheel on steel rail joints. Far above the roof of the tunnel, the towers of elite Park Avenue are long since forgetful of this underground development that made them possible. 
   Far ahead a small spot of daylight appears. The white opening of the tunnel mouth grows and grows until we emerge onto Park Avenue Viaduct. We reduce speed. We pass 125th Street Station with its platforms swarming with commuters, and swing right across the Harlem River bridge into Mott Haven Junction. There are more crossovers and switches, new patterns of brilliant colorlight signals both trackside and overhead, and the matchless music of steel wheels rolling through a maze of complex track work. Then we take a curve to the left and head for the Hudson River. Again the controller is being notched ahead. The Harlem River appears on our left. New York seems to surround us now. Yankee Stadium slips by, Columbia University, great housing developments, suburban train stations--138th Street, High Bridge, Morris Heights, University Heights, Marble Hill. We meet train after train and pass others along the four and six-track right of way. Shortly we reduce speed and pass through the deep rock cut that brings us out at Spuyten Duyvil on the Hudson. A sharp curve to the right and we face north for the run along the east shore of the Hudson to Harmon.
   Twenty-two miles of straightaway and long curves lie ahead of us and we get down to the exciting business of hauling a great train over one of the most beautiful pieces of railroad line in America. There are no further restraints now. Notch by notch, the throttle comes back, feeding power to the wheel just as fast as they'll take it without slipping--4000 horse-power--5000. We're clipping off a mile-a-minute as we pass Riverdale. The shore on one side and lovely wooded slopes on the other glide by faster and faster. Across the water, the