RED BALL EXPRESS
passing on the SP tracks, every-
one was low profile-a real stealth
operation. Andy, Temple and
Darin were busy modifying the
jump and building up the kicker.
STORY & PHOTOS BY BUD FAWCETT
ANDY HETZEL'S monotone voice
informed me of the mission at
hand. "I'm panicking out of San
Diego, Bud. I gotta jump the train,"
he explained in his usual calm tone.
Andy's call was soon followed by
Temple's anxious giggles from the
other end. After all, "It's all about
airtime," Andy would always boast.
I asked Artie if the jump was
good, is it safe, how's the snow-
no answer was given. Let's see,
Andy's in So Cal, and Temple's in
the Northwest-two plane tickets
on a roll of the dice. "Artie, have
you personally checked the jump?
Check the jump before I buy two
plane tickets."
Later that afternoon, "It's totally
do-able," Artie sprayed. Tickets
bought, Andy was flying outta San
Diego, but Temple was only com-
ing if Andy showed. Temple Cum-
mins lives in Gig Harbor, Washing
ton, and his parents would have
never allowed him to make this trip
if they had known all the facts.
The locals had decided that
jumping trains was not their cup of
fame-except for the jump builder,
Darin-he'd meet us at the tracks.
The snow was still firm. Artie, Reid
and Bill lugged 16mm cameras,
tripods and one Hi-8; Palmer team
bros Hetz and Temp hiked with two
158s, shovels and Morton Salt.
Falline films was preparing to shoot
the best two minutes of their new
movie, Easyrider.
Just in case you have the burning
desire to jump a train, we hiked
from the south end of Donner to
the Southern Pacific tracks-45
minutes uphill. The run-in to the
lip of jump was thirty feet long and
two feet wide. Paranoid of tres-
My first impression of the jump:
No fucking way! Andy and Temple
were pacing quietly. Andy spoke,
"Yeah, it's do-able, looks about
forty to fifty feet," but watch the
movie and decide yourself.
While the shooters were looking
at the angles, I had a feeling Andy
and Temp were looking for their
balls. One camera up the tracks,
one straight on, one from behind
and two where they belong. The
snow was post hole warm.
Andy and Temp "ro sham bo'd"
for the first test. Temple "won."
Temple's flight was in slow-mo:
takeoff looked good, but when he
reached cruising speed, he started
swimming, gathering whatever
additional inches he could, and
then prepared for the crash. Slam-
ming into the snow about six inch-
es shy of the gravel that surrounds
the tracks, Temple landed in the
flats. "Stinger, you okay?" Andy
was concerned. Standing up slowly.
Temp walked away, said he needed
to be alone.
Andy's attempt was a bit more
majestic: he hucked himself hard
above the 3x8 tracks and set down
about ten feet from Temp's bomb
hole on the vert side, wheelied and
edged out to his face.
Camera operator Bill yelled
down the track, "Train, train!" The
rusty iron rungs were ringing from
an eastbound freighter braking
down Donner Summit; she was a
40-car double-decker, My vantage
point was best, and I knew that if
Andy and Temple had jumped, they
would have surely nailed the top
left corner of the train and taken an
unconscious ride to Reno. In fact,
the eighteen-foot wall retaining the
jump was dwarfed by the taller box
car. No cigarl
After some sailing, Temp and
Andy were ready for more practice;
the cameras moved in tighter, anx-
lety amplified. Andy styled with a
lengthy tailgrab poke and Temple's
method over Andy was classic in
the wink of an eye.
Churning westbound without
warning, a red, white and blue
8642
8642
SP
Superliner was charging hard.
Everyone scrambled to hide. It was
the polished 1:30 Amtrak-huff,
huff, huff. She disappeared as
quickly as she had appeared.
The wait began. After one false
alarm with a train sweep, a white
Ford truck on training wheels,
Andy and Temp took turns sideslip-
ping their launch pad. Two-and-a-
half hours had expired while the
clouds gathered. With our feet
going numb, the novelty began to
wear off. No, let's reconsider? I
yelled, "Train, train!" several times
to keep the dream going.
Alas, the tracks started another
high-pitched whine, a sure sign of
another eastbound, but what size-
cattle cars, passenger, semis on
flatbeds? The single-stack train
turned the corner towards the jump,
her coal cars empty, which I could
only see later in the video playback.
A big, old, ugly black train on a
cloudy afternoon-perfect for film.
Andy and Temp were positioned
high enough to see the target and
had to decide whether to jump with-
in 30 seconds-no more! I'd moved
into the open along the tracks, pre-
tending to be a sightseer snapping a
few shots of the white on red SP
logo indentifying the lead engine. I
scoped the engineer, who appeared
to be entertaining a bunch of old
blue-haired ladies in the main cabin.
They all waved. I waved back.
After a tenth car passed, Andy
magically appeared about 15 feet
above the open black cars and was
quickly followed by Temple poking
nose. Grinning ear to ear, Andy and
Temple exchanged one very high
five for their successful feat.
We ate a snack in Truckee, and
they flew home at 9:30 that night.
All in a day's work, huh!
Andy and Temple (left), happy to be alive.
Temple (right) demonstrates his method for
clearing the tracks to Andy. A gravel clear-
ing power lounch (sequence) by Hetzel.
114 TH