Dear Pioneer Zephyr,
I should apologize. It never occurred to me that you wouldn’t know all that had happened since I retired, but how could you? If I’d known that, I wouldn’t have shared quite so much as I did. After all, it’s not your load to haul and I never meant to put you in that position. You’ve gone above and beyond just by writing to me in the first place.
I’ll tell you a bit about Mate as you were kind enough to ask though, to help you understand my last letter. Mate was my B-unit. We were manufactured at the same time and meant to work together. Many of us cab units had boosters to match and I’m sure if you asked any cab they’d all say their booster was the best, but Mate really was! He was as hard-working as any cab engine I’ve ever met, but always cheerful and ready with an encouraging word. We’d joke and laugh – even sing sometimes on our longer jaunts – but he was just as capable of being serious when we needed to be.
Boosters had it pretty rough though. They’re not cars, but they’re not quite locomotives either. Mate could move without me, but he couldn’t pull anything by himself. In a way, I felt responsible for him, the way I’d feel for any of my cars. When they sent us both back to La Grange though, he was the one comforting me, saying that they might need us to pull grain cars again. They held off on putting me to the torch because I was the A-unit, because I could head a train and he couldn’t.
We were made as a matched pair, but only I’m left. It seems silly now to have implied that I can’t pull this train without him (if they didn’t know I could do it, we wouldn’t even be having this discussion). But I worked together with him for so long, the idea that I’ll be doing it alone – that I have to do it alone. Sometimes, it feels like more than I can bear.
I think a lot about if our positions had been reversed, if it should be him sitting here instead of me. It’s only dumb luck that I got back out of Pielet Brothers at all and it never would have happened if I was a booster unit. Still, I wish there’d been some way for me to give Mate this chance instead. I know I shouldn’t be feeling sorry for myself though. Mate would have joked that that’s the trouble of being the A-unit.
I can’t really say whether or not engines ought to be writing letters, but yours have been useful to me. In the past, when I would struggle with a job or feel unsure of myself, it was Mate who’d always be there to remind me to put things into perspective. I think your letters have done the same thing.
By the time this reaches you, I think I’ll have probably been out for my test run. The volunteers said I might wait to write until after that, but I wanted you to know I never meant to make you feel responsible for my troubles. I only have them because I’ve been given a second chance at service life and I’m grateful for it. I have a job to do, cars to pull, people who care about me, and a pen pal who writes me once a month! I’m sure that I’m the luckiest engine running.
I’ll probably have more interesting things to say in my next letter. I hope this one and my last don’t weigh too heavily on you in any case. As always, looking forward to hearing from you soon!
Your friend,
Silver Pilot