BR in its wisdom, provided its staff with a range of different instruction manuals. These dealt with basic stuff like how to prepare and drive a locomotive, and more detailed workshop manuals covering how to dismantle and rebuild almost every serviceable item used. The former are called 33056 manuals (no, no relation to the Cromptons with similar numbers), the latter WOSS or Workshop Overhaul Standard Specification. BR also kept a number of drawing offices going who produced diagrams (technical drawings) covering everything from loco sub-components through to paint schemes and on the civil side; bridges, station buildings and track-plans.
To the preservationist, these documents are a godsend. The driver’s guides tell you how to trace and work round most of the common faults, and the WOSS will in many cases take you through the process to repair the faulty item once you’ve finally identified it. Well that’s the theory . . . .
I’ve been lucky enough to come by quite a few documents over the years. Most have come from people who know I’m interested in trains, and have inherited them from a relative or are ex-railway employees themselves. Ebay has also been useful, allowing me to pick up those items not obtained from other sources. Of the documents I’ve acquired, some I’ve kept, and other’s I’ve sold on to raise money for preservation projects. However with the advent of scanners, I now scan the documents into .pdf format, and this virtual library is kept on a CD that can run on almost any PC I come across.
But before this time…..
Andy and I had finished a full day partly replacing the workshop floor in our support hut, and had retired to the Wheel Tappers for a refresher. We found a quiet corner and took a few deep drafts before starting to discuss the following days work.
Once again at the bar to procure a follow up round, I looked back to our corner to see that a stranger had taken my seat and was talking animatedly with Andy. Even from the bar it was obvious he wanted something, and was trying to get Andy to provide it. On return to the corner the stranger had gone, and Andy looked faintly annoyed. “Change of plans”, he said, “Tomorrow we are helping Mick with his shunter”.
The shunter was an ex-industrial built along the same lines as BR class 03 or 04. This example carried a false ID and the BR lion and wheel emblem, it was also named after an obscure Greek god.
The morning dawned bright and with little cloud cover, but was fairly cold. I met Andy at the Market Cross Café and over a fullish English Breakfast (I don’t do mushrooms, or black pudding) and tea, Andy filled me in on the background to the day’s activities.
The loco had been one of three used by the local cement works, but they had sold it to one of the founding fathers of the railway back in the 1970s, and under his care it had never missed a beat. It transpired that Mick bought the loco from his estate, his widow only too happy to see the back of it. However since Mick had taken ownership, it had become increasingly unreliable, and now it refused to start or maintain a charge in the batteries overnight. Unfortunately the railway had sent away its 08 for tyre turning (re-profiling the wheels), and which had left Mick’s machine to do the stock moves and shunt releases from the terminus platform (until the run round was recommissioned).
Mick was already there when we pitched up down the yard at 08.30hrs. He looked at his watch and greeted us with “Good Afternoon”….. “!”
With the covers off the control cubicle it became apparent that a mouse or some such had taken up residence in the winter, and it appears that it’s diet had been supplemented by cable insulation. As with all rodents it hadn’t been too fussy about mixing up its bedding with its droppings, which were liberally littered around the bottom of the compartment.
A hand held vacuum cleaner removed the worst of the debris and revealed what we thought was the source of all the problems: Clearly the diet of insulation material had not agreed with the animal, as his remains were rotting, stuck between two particularly well stripped cables. A little further investigation showed that these two bought the power direct from the battery to the main switch and circuit breaker panel in the driver’s desk. Rotten rodent was clearly a low-ish impedance connection, which flattened the batteries over night……
As a temporary measure we reinsulated all the cables we found with miniature teeth marks using glue-lined heat shrink (wonderful stuff)…. But for those wires with more serious damage we had no choice but to pull in replacements.
So far so good.
For those who are worried by such things; a few simple words were later said over the carcass of the deceased, before its mortal remains were hurled into the flames of a good old fashioned yard clearance burn up.
Back to the topic in hand: The locomotive batteries now took charge and appeared to keep it. But against expectations it still wouldn’t start.
Having already asked if Mick had any documents covering the shunter’s electrical systems, and being told he hadn’t, we were left with exploring the problem long hand. Fortified by regular tea breaks as the morning progressed, we revealed:
a) There was no power on the starter motor, but power to the start button on the control desk.
b) When the start button was pressed: there was power to the coil of the main start contactor (we could hear it "clunk" over), and there was voltage on its contacts.
c) The ground line was less than 1 Ohm impedance between the contactor and the starter motor, but the positive side was open circuit.
“Ah ha!” I hear you cry.
Well yes, shorting out the open circuit cable did get the starter motor to run and turn over the diesel set, but it still wouldn’t fire up.
I will at this point admit that neither Andy nor I had any experience of this type of locomotive, neither, it has to be said did Mick, who is by his own admission more of a kettle man himself (kettle is a derogatory term for a steam engine, used by diesel enthusiasts).
Lunch consisted of a toasted sandwich from Linda in the station buffet (show your workers travel card, and get extra ham and cheese……. ). While we were lounging on the volunteer’s entrance steps waiting for the toaster to finish its duties, the station master spotted us and made straight for us. “Is it fixed yet?” His disappointment was clear when we provided a negative response. We understood his concern; the current manoeuvre to allow the loco to run round required it to reverse its train into the yard, then run round and reverse back into the station. This was proving to be costly in time at on each occurrence, and the knock on effect was a significant delay to services built up over the day.
Back in the yard, we started to trace the cable run from the start switch to the starter motor. After a few twists and turns in the driver’s desk it disappeared through the bulkhead into the motor compartment, but didn’t reappear where we expected it to. Tracing the cable from the other end, we followed it from the starter motor until it arrived at the bulkhead but in a completely different location.
After failing to progress this line of attack, we tried looking at the diesel set itself. By putting some fuel into the small header tank above the fuel pump, we could (with our lash up cable) get the diesel set to start, but no new fuel was arriving to replace that consumed, and it soon stopped. Obviously the fuel pump wasn’t running. A multi-meter revealed that the pump wasn’t being powered, and another quick lash up cable allowed us to start the diesel set and keep it running.
However two lash up cables are not a permanent solution, and both Andy and I had the feeling we were missing something. But needs must, and the loco was quickly back in service, being driven by rostered drivers in the lashed up state (we secured the extra cables with cable ties and had tried to hide them away as best we could).
Once the running day had ended and all but the very last of the punters had left for home, Andy and I went back to the shunter with Mick for one last look. We removed the lash up cables, and tried to start her again. Much to our surprise, she powered up first time! We were dumb founded. Mick eventually broke the silence suggesting that he should take her for a run down the yard and back.
Mick completed the static preparation duties by complaining bitterly about the last driver who had wound the hand brake on too far, and by unwinding it, Mick had made his back problems worse. But down the yard, and back we went, the only problem appearing to be be with Mick's back which gave him a twinge at every rail joint we ran over.
Mick shut her down, and we went to wash up none the wiser. Stood in the wash room Andy had a flash of inspiration. Borrowing the key from Mick he wrapped a towel round his waist and went back to the little loco. I grabbed a fresh t-shirt and headed after him, pulling on my shoes as I went.
The shunter wouldn’t start again. “Right!” said Andy, and proceeded to wind down the handbrake to its end stop. Then he tried again, and the diesel set burst back into life at the first attempt. “Yes!” He shut it down again and wound the hand brake half off again, and tried to start her again, this time without success.
Mick arrived at this point still damp from his shower. Andy wound down the handbrake and started the shunter again. Mick looked quizzical, so Andy explained; “To start the diesel set, the handbrake has to be all the way down, or the fuel pump and starter motor won’t run.”
“Oh yes” said Mick, “the manual says something about that”.
AaaaaaarrrrrrGGGGGGGGhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!
