Though there are many memorable smells associated with railroading, the one that stands out in my memory, to this day, is from a time when I was braking on the SP San Joaquin Division during the summer of 1968. It's when we'd be in the hole somewhere between Polk and Stockton in the early morning hours, meeting a fruit block with a 100 cars or so of nothing but canteloupes (out of Firebaugh/Mendota) heading for points east. Those trains left the San Joaquin Valley every night during the melon season, and if you were headed railroad westward you could almost count on taking siding for one.

In the quiet night air, after the melons had passed, the sweet smell of canteloupe lingered for a while before we got the switch and signal to move out. I don't know why that memory is still so vivid, maybe has something to do with the romance of the rails. And I left railroad employment the following year...just memories after that.