It is such a shame that the word "awesome" has been so devalued by promiscuous overuse (to describe even only slightly better than average hamburgers, sunsets, kisses, pairs of socks, everything). It should be reserved for rare use (no more than two or three times a year) and only for things as truly awesome as the restored Beyer-Garratt 6029 steam locomotive.
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On Wednesday and at the Canberra Railway Museum and in the awe-inspiring presence of the seething, sighing, puffing juggernaut, it was revealed that it has been given the name City Of Canberra. Shane Rattenbury, the Minister for Steam (and for Justice), cut away a large Australian flag to reveal the name. There it was, in gleaming brass letters, on the locomotive's glossy black flanks.
The Australian Railway Historical Society (ACT Division) has given the naming rights to the locomotive to the ACT government for three years. This is the society's thank you to the government for donating a crucial $50,000 towards an In-Cab Communications Equipment (ICE) system for the divine contraption. No such thing as the ICE system was imagined when the locomotive was made (in Manchester, in 1953) but under new laws 6029 would not be able to venture out on to the nation's railway lines. But now she can, and in a few days will stride off majestically to the annual Festival Of Steam at Thirlmere near Picton.
Earlier, waiting for the minister, the platform at the museum was thronged with Railway Historical Society folk and photographers galore admiring 6029, this giant, this 265-tonne celebrity. Always magnificent, on Wednesday she was given added grandeur and gaiety by being bedecked with Australian flags. Appropriate music warbled from a loudspeaker and included classic old US country and western railroad ditties like Last Train to Fernando (If you miss this one you'll never get another one) and Got a One-Way Ticket to the Blues.
Wednesday was an exciting occasion for the local society's CEO Alan Gardner. (Warning: Do not read further if low-level sexism offends.)
Above 6029's steamy hisses and sighs and burps he enthused that "when the locomotive first came to us it had been purchased by the Whitlam government in the early 1970s".
"And we spoke to Gough a couple of years ago and he was very delighted that we were doing this [restoring 6029]. It was still something very close to him and he was glad that we'd got it here.
"It still ran during the 1970s, then went out of service. It stood here [at Kingston] and fell into a very bad state. Then seven years ago we decided to get some seed money going, to do some fund-raising. We got a small group together. We'd have regular work days. We've put over 4000 hours of labour into it."
"But why the enthusiasm?" we asked, knowing the answer perfectly well because we are old enough to have known and loved steam locomotives at work.
"Well for us," he rejoiced, "it's all about the era of steam.
"Steam locomotives are the closest thing that man has ever made to a human being. They're living. They can be cantankerous. [Laughing] they get called 'she' by the crews. All locomotives are 'she'. The crews say they're like wives."
"Because they're emotionally complex?" I heard myself ask, appalled at myself.
Yes, that was it, Gardner confirmed, "although I don't know if you can say that in this day and age."
"It's the largest working locomotive in the southern hemisphere," he continued, which was easy to believe as we stood beside a monster that dwarfed us.
"It's [33 metres] long and develops about 3500 horse power. It mainly ran from 1953 to 1973, for the NSW government, mainly pulling coals from Newcastle.
"Today it's become a Canberra icon. It's almost an ambassador for Canberra [hence the appropriateness of the name]. So we will showcase Canberra with it whenever we take it out.
"Today marks the end of the restoration, officially, but being steam engines they always need a lot of TLC."
"LIke wives," we chortled together, sharing a boyish moment. Steam locomotives can do that, triggering boyishness in grown men.
"They're high maintenance. They've been likened to female film stars. Everyone photographs them. They can be very precious, and cantankerous, but they look magnificent."
I suppose Gardner is right but I have always, even as locomotive-admiring urchin in steam-era England, thought of steam locomotives as male. To me they are burly and bemuscled, like the giant blokes of the Bible and of mythology, like Samson and Hercules.
When the three years are up and a new name is needed can we please go for something more dashing and imaginative than "City Of Canberra"? The most famous steam locomotive of all time is The Flying Scotsman (because it would hurtle from Edinburgh to London) so why not call 6029, evocatively, The Flying Canberran?
Minister Rattenbury climbed, nimbly, into 6029's cab (it is like a small gallery of steampunk artworks). We were warned "It's about to blow its whistle. Block your ears!" There was an awesome bellow, part howl, part whoop. But again to me a manly voice with nothing feminine about it. Imagine a 265-tonne male coyote baying at the moon.
Then the City Of Canberra swaggered slowly away from the museum and off towards Fyshwick. Again (sorry Mr Gardner) it didn't seem like someone's wife but seemed as manly as anything, like the world's mightiest bodybuilder, a Mr Universe, moving awe-inspiringly through his gymnasium.
