I was working the service track at Taylor from the "mummy' shack, on the night shift as an 18 year old hostler helper, where the hostler and the helper "took turns", running "cuts" of engines down to the turn-out, or taking them from the wash-rack onto the service tracks.

After a late night shift the sun was coming up, and the foreman released a track, to take down to the turn out, and it was my turn. And, so after checking that the air brakes were cut out, and the hand brake was off the lead unit, I had a yellow, so I pulled out and dropped down the hill to the turn-out.

I was a real "green" runner, and didn't yet have the "feel", and so didn't notice that it seemed to be "dragging" a bit. But, as I approached the turn out shanty, I did notice Rollin Roberts, the Road Foreman of Engines, driving up to the Roundhouse Office, next to the service tracks, and watch him get out. As I came to a stop, trying to not to be noticed, since I was not yet a qualified hostler, I could see him walking my way. I got about a twenty minutes a$$ chewing, as the wash rack hostlers had put another unit on the top of the cut I was pulling down, had set the hand brake, and I'd managed to send my first unit to the "peeler".

Experience, from lots of practice, teaches us many useful things. As an old switchmen once told me once, "there are real hogheads, and then there are "motormen"...".

I had a notorious fireman who once worked for me at the Shops, and he just could not figure out how to "balance" and/or stop, loaded or empty pig cuts with air (too little, or too late...), because he never seemed to develop the "feel" for how a train or cut is supposed to be handling. He was a fully "qualified" and promoted "stimulator" engineer, but he was also a trolley jolly, and too much of a foamer on-duty, as well... And, he could not seem to stop a cut without using the jam, either sliding the wheels, and/or stretching the cut, so the crew couldn't get the pin. My switchmen gave me dirty looks, every time I let him run.

I tried not to slide the wheels, not for fear of discipline, but because I hated to run on flat wheels...