For this task, I tried to steal myself by association with movie heroes of the time. In 1862, at the height of the American Civil War, a bunch of Union soldiers slipped behind Confederate lines on a secret mission that, had it succeeded, might have shortened the war considerably. They were led by a civilian spy, one William Andrews, and their plan was to hi-jack the Chattanooga Choo-Choo, and run north burning all the wooden bridges behind them and thus cutting off General Lee’s supply lines. But they were thwarted entirely by the courage and persistence of William Fuller, the conductor from the train they stole who just would not give up chasing them. At first on foot, then a hand-cart, then a small locomotive, finally a full-sized one, Fuller chased so hard that Andrews’ men never had the time to set their fires, nor even re-fuel, and so eventually ran out of steam and were captured. Andrews and several others were hanged, although most escaped and returned safely to the north.
    This remarkable incident has been the subject of two very different movies. The first was the silent comedy classic The General (named for the stolen loco) which many regard as Buster Keaton’s best work as he goes through innumerable dangerous stunts playing the resourceful Fuller. The second was contemporary to my velocipedian exploits and was regarded by Walt Disney as his best film. The Great Locomotive Chase starred the wonderfully accented Fess Parker—yes, Davy Crocket himself—as Andrews and resolute Jeffrey Hunter as Fuller. It was all those frantic scenes of men jumping on and off moving trains or clinging desperately as the chase proceeded that I used to try and steel my own resolve. It’s hard to say if it did any good.
    
Daily I ventured out, and daily I returned with skinned knees and elbows, torn clothing and tattered pride. However it should be pointed out that I was neither the first nor most severe casualty of the enterprise.  That distinction went to Rosely who had foolishly volunteered to steady the seat for me on my virgin attempt to mount that fearful framework and received for her trouble a nasty gash on her leg, inflicted by the rear wheel nut that impaled her shin when the whole caboodle mysteriously capsized.