Re: Coal

One hot summer afternoon I was running down from Big Horn toward Antonito. Jim Shawcroft was firing. It was a lazy afternoon and we were at peace with the world.
Down below Lava, I noticed the steam pressure was fading away toward the bottom side of 175 lbs, but Jim was sitting over there, in his own zone. Suddenly he sits upright, climbs off the seat, opens the firedoor looks around inside rather intently, then closes the door.
He then rather sheepishly wandered across the cab and uttered the the immortal words.....
"....umm, excuse me,....uh...er...ya gotta match?"