I’ve been working on the railroad
Chapter 1 - First Run
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There was a time when the idea of using carts on rails instead of roads was considered foalish by many of the upper crust of Equestrian society. Luckily for everypony, Princess Celesita and some of her farther sighted court have favored rational ideas and improvements to pony kind. I know this was not always so, but in the last 500 years she seems to have come around.

My name is Coal Fire. I was born into a hard working family of drayage and carting ponies for the coal mines. Papa married a unicorn, my mother, and so I and my sister were both blessed with good earth pony sense and a bit of unicorn magic.

I was seven years foaled when I saw my first locomotive pulled train. Back then they were pulled by earth ponies. Only the fleetest and strongest would do. Pulling up to six carts or carriages and running most of the way. It was a glorious time to be associated with the railways.

My Uncle Wheeler was a driver at the time, leader of his pulling team. He had spent the better part of a year in the stables learning to operate a new idea for the railroad. A self propelled cart which used steam to drive the wheels. The idea had come from a smart Colt in Manechester and had become a great success in hauling ore from the mines and along the docks. Now my uncle’s division was about to get its first locomotive in an attempt at long distance hauling, and he was to drive it.

It was a brisk fall day when papa took the family to the railroad station. The whole town was there as this was a grand event. A band was playing and bunting lined the streets. The mayor gave a rousing speech and everypony clopped in approval. Then a loud bell sounded and a slight chuffing sound erupted from behind a curtain along the tracks. Soon the front of this large monster, belching smoke and soot slid through the curtains, and my uncle was at the throttle.

Papa says my eyes became fixed on the machine and the grin on my muzzle he worried would pop my ears clean off. All I can remember was the look and the feeling of power in this amazing new contraption, and the pride in knowing my very own uncle had it by the reigns. He brought the beast up to the station platform as smooth as if it had been sliding on ice, and stopped it ever so gently right at the end of the station sign.

More fanfare and a few important ponies boarded the two coaches behind the locomotive. Papa was talking with Uncle Wheeler as he made his rounds oiling and caring for his charge. The next thing I knew, Uncle Wheeler was asking me if I would like to ride in the cab with him and Mr. Walker, who had been his team second.

I think I said yes, I hope I said something, but the next thing I knew I was up in the wooden cab and Mr. Walker in his new position as stoker or fire-colt was shoveling bits of coal into the roaring fire in the stove like opening in the cab. I was soon told that this was the back head and firebox of the locomotive’s boiler. Uncle Wheeler made sure I stayed in a safe place behind him as he and Mr. Walker checked to be sure everything was ready when a whistle from the back of the train alerted my Uncle. He waved back from the cab window, Mr. Walker pulled a chord hanging from the roof and the big bell on the top of the boiler began to swing and ring out. Uncle Wheeler adjusted a long bar sticking out from the floor of the cab, then a small lever on a stand, and then he moved another large bar along the front of the back head. A slow hiss arose and I felt a gentle tug and a bit of motion as the train began to move, ever so slowly.

The line from Bittsburg to Hoofington was 87 miles and without much effort the little locomotive had come up to the fastest speed I had ever seen a team of ponies pull a train, and then with a wink from Uncle Wheeler to Mr. Walker, he threw the throttle back all the way and we lurched even faster. Soon three Pegasus were swooping down and flying along side the racing train. Wonderbolts!

My Uncle gave them a wave and they peeled back, and I could barely see them begin a series of stunts for the dignitaries in the carriages we were pulling. I was torn in trying to catch a glimpse of the famous flyers and the sheer joy of watching to world whiz by as Uncle Wheeler and Mr. Walker went about the calm business of keeping this rocketing contraption smoothly running along the line as ponies of every kind raced to line the tracks and wave and holler to the racing steam train zooming through the countryside.

All too soon we came to a sign for Hoofington and my Uncle began to slow the train. We were still a few miles out, but as we came closer into town the more and more gradual the slowing became, until like before he brought the train to a stop right at the edge of the station.

More fanfare, more speeches and more bands and bunting at Hoofington station, but I was paying no attention. Uncle Wheeler was showing me all around the big locomotive, explaining all the rods and cranks, pointing to the points where he held a hoof to check for excessive heat and where he added a bit of oil here and there to help keep his charge in tip top condition. Soon he looked at the town clock and rushed us back into the cab. The festivities were calming down and the crowd of important ponies were boarding their carriages once again. A red pony wearing a blue cap and vest with a red tie with a white flag for a cutie mark on her flank approached the cab and Uncle Wheeler went down to talk with her.
Mr. Wheeler explained that the red pony was Punch, the conductor or guard for the train. He explained that she as conductor was actually in charge of the train and that he and Uncle Wheeler were under her orders for the movement and safety of the train and its passengers, but that Uncle Wheeler being driver was second in charge.

Soon Uncle Wheeler was back in the cab, and Ms. Punch walked along the train checking things as she went. Then Uncle Wheeler gave me the greatest gift I ever received. He said Ms. Punch had authorized him to let me sit at his lap and see how the locomotive ran. I was speechless and overjoyed.

I looked out the cab window and Uncle Wheeler quickly showed me all the gauges, pipes, hoses valves and levers along the back head. He explained what each was for and then he had me put on a spare set of gloves, a red neckerchief and the crowning glory, a blue and white striped cap just like he and Mr. Walker were wearing.

The last of the passengers had boarded and from the rear of the train Ms. Punch stood facing the locomotive, green flag and whistle in her mouth. Uncle Wheeler had told me to look out to see her. She blew the whistle and waved the flag. Mr. Walker pulled the bell rope and Uncle Wheeler set the reverser to forward from neutral, took the brake off, and then - he told me to put my hoof on the throttle.

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Author's note: This is my first attempt at a fan-fic.
Constructive criticism and suggestions are most welcome.
I hope you enjoy.