On the way home from work, I came up the Ohio side of the Ohio River. In a field, sitting alone, I saw a fire engine, obviously "retired." It was a white custom cab, trimmed in blue, and had "Engine 91" in big blue letters on the side.
We tend to "personalize" the apparatus we have ridden on. The first ambulance at Station 20 was a 1960-something International Travel-All which was donated by the Power Company. It had seen HARD use as a power company vehicle, but the gang which founded Station 20 rehabbed it into an ambulance. You had to crouch over in the back, and it had an old fashion pursuit-light mechanical siren. It sounded like a REAL siren, not the sick imitations that are used now. It was called "The Goat." It was not used to transport patients by the time I started, but it still was used as a utility vehicle, It was a standard shift, and I don't think it had synchronizers, but the Goat would RUN. I still remember taking it through the gears smoothly and feeling all superior. The Goat set the record for the Fairmont General to WVU Hospital at 14 minutes with John Green driving and Dr. Dollison on board yelling "Can't you make this thing go faster?!" John used to tell that story and we never tired of it.
We had a Dodge van converted to a high-top by Wayne (which still builds school buses), and it was named "Proud Mary." John's son-in-law, Roger Plyman, named it, and I never figured out why.
What was Engine 91 named? That it has the "1" says it was at least for a time the first due engine. It was old enough and in good enough condition that it probably was an engine at a volunteer company. I just know that as the fire fighters came to the station, some chief told somebody to drive 91, and someone to drive the squad or the ambulance or whatever else went. Seldom does only one apparatus leave the station. When I'm teaching somebody to drive, I tell them that apparatus are like wolves, they run in packs. 91 appears to be about 30 years old. I bet it has some stories to tell - asleep at night until the dispatch set the tones off, which in turn set the house siren off. Then, she shook herself awake and waited for the driver and crew to charge into the night. She knew - everybody knew - that they were all needed. Everybody knew that they were running some risks. But they were needed.
A few years ago, I saw Station 20's first squad, Squad 29, sitting in a field on Dudley Fork in Marion County. The Baker boxes had already been removed and presumably it was destined for farm duty. It was a 1957 GMC which started life as a radio van for civil defense. The same people who converted the Goat converted it into Squad 29. It was also a standard shift, no synchronizers, with a splitter on the rear end. It would also really roll when you got it into fourth-high. Whoever put the air horn in put the switch a little too low, so when you shift it to third-high, the air horn blew. It did end up with a big dent in the side. I was riding officer, JT was driving and we crossed the interstate and were hit by an elderly couple who stopped for us but were hit in turn by a drunk. JT still claims that I told him it was clear to cross, and I will deny that to my dying day. Since JT is not here with me to speak, I'll leave it at that. But seeing Squad 29 in that farmer's field was sad.
I also bet that people who drove and rode Engine 91 are sad when they see it. And I know that they remember fires and accidents they went to with the engine.
That's one of the minor sadnesses that emergency service - and age - presents.
But I bet Engine 91 still dreams of what was its best and its exciting years. I can't help but wonder, will Engine 91, the Goat, Squad 29, Proud Mary and so many other trucks be present in heaven? I hope so.
Mizpah!
R
