The temperature was in the upper 20s when I left for work this morning.
Not long after I got there I heard the unmistakable wail of a electromechanical siren. As far as I know, only the fire department here in Beaumont uses them anymore. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the term, an electromechanical or mechanical siren is the big, silver, bullet-shaped device now seen mostly on fire trucks. Such sirens are becoming increasingly rare since the multi-toned “woo-woo” electronic siren has been the emergency vehicle warning signal of choice for probably the past 40 years.
Sure enough, from my office window I saw a fire engine crossing Willow and heading west on Calder. I thought for just a second about how one issue those riding that engine no longer have to “sweat” is braving the cold while hanging onto the tailboard.
Riding the tailboard or “back step” of fire engines have largely gone the way of mechanical sirens and being a “leather lunger” by entering burning buildings without an Air Pack. Most career and probably very many volunteer departments banned the practice because it was too dangerous. Firefighters could fall off a moving truck or get rear-ended or might be ejected if the engine was to careen out of control in an accident.
When I worked as a firefighter we rode the tailboard — come hail or high water. One engine company I worked with had — definitely a luxury in our small department — five men. Three firefighters rode the back step. Our Air Packs were mounted on the wall and we would back into them and strap them on, all ready for action once we were on scene. One time while still a rookie I wondered out loud what would happen with us hanging on to a metal bar and standing on a metal step, if lightning were to strike us and particularly if the strike hit my Air Pack?
One of my cohorts said something to the effect that such an incident would send me shooting into the clouds like a bottle rocket. I didn’t know if that could actually happen or not, but it sounded dangerous so I thought: “Cool.”
We were taught in rookie school that the trick to riding the back step was flexing your arms and knees to better absorb the bumps. We weren’t taught that riding back there on a 20-minute drive into the countryside in subfreezing weather would freeze just about everything your body had to offer if not properly attired.
For the first time in my life that first winter I worked I bought some long johns. I grew up where you didn’t really need a pair during the winter unless you worked outdoors or did something foolish like ride on the back of a speeding fire truck.
We had a matched set of Laverne pumpers at our Central Station. The were big honking fire engines, bringing to mind aircraft crash trucks. Since this was the late 70s or 80s, we called the engines Laverne and Shirley. These trucks had back steps to get up to the hose bed and lay some line but the firefighters (the rank, mere peons, not the profession collective) rode in the jump seat which were mounted amidships, or just behind the cab. Here the chauffeur (again the rank and not “James” of “Home, James” fame )could operate the pumper as well.
The jumper seat had seat belts and we might have been somewhat safer, though probably still exposed to more auditory damage being only a foot or two behind the electronic sirens, if we actually belted ourselves in. But we wanted to get our Scott packs on and be ready for action. Plus, we wanted to see if there was a big plume of smoke, or the big red glow, indicating a “burner.”
I spent most of my short firefighting career — moonlighting as a college student — at a small three-man station. There I would ride the back step. But if we had cold or bad weather, the lieutenant had all three of us riding up front. It was real cozy.
Just before I started writing I read this forum in a firefighting magazine’s blog about this very topic. Many of the firefighters these days never rode the tailboard. Some sensibly said they think it was idiotic to ride the tailboard, which in terms of safety and liability is true. But as others pointed out, it had a coolness factor that outweighed any perceived danger.
It was cold as hell riding back on the tail at times but when springtime rolled around and we’d cruise through the college with those young coeds wearing those tight shorts for the first time of the season, the tailboard was the place to be.
Ah the folly of youth and the thoughts of “forever young.” I never got hurt riding the back step. I never came close to being hurt. That doesn’t count the time I seriously thought I might die when I passed the object of our mission, a burning gasoline tanker. Of course, I guess that doesn’t count because I was riding ol’ Shirley and had to catch the plug to energize the supply line and I was standing up then instead of sitting strapped into my jump seat.
Anyway, that fire engine this morning sure stirred up the memory ignition. Those memories were both cold and cool — like a nice cool drink on a warm day — or something like it.
