It's an automatic reaction that's old as rust on rails.
 
People always wave to train crews.
 
Like the pair of pros beside me, I wave back.
 
The three of us sit in the cab of the Royal Gorge Route's recently acquired C20 locomotive, and we're about to pull 4 million pounds of passenger-laden rolling stock through the depths of its namesake canyon.
 
At the controls sits Devon Cacy, operations manager and engineer trainee.
 
Next to him stands senior engineer Wayne Gay.
 
I occupy the fireman's seat.
 
In steam engine days, this would be for the crewman stoking the boilers, a job eliminated by diesel-electric locomotion.
 
By allowing passengers to reserve that otherwise vacant position, the Royal Gorge Route lets folks like me travel Casey Jones-like in a 3,000 horsepower locomotive.
 
It's a childhood fantasy come true.
 
The cab is surprisingly roomy.
 
Cacy, who sits behind a panel of switches, levers, and gauges, pulls a handle, and the locomotive's air horn screams out a lonesome, Johnny Cash-worthy blast.
 
He slides a lever, and the 16 massive diesel pistons behind us begin pounding.
 
The floor shakes and the train grunts forward in a rumble of raw power.
 
It feels like the Spruce Goose revving for takeoff.
 
We soon pass the site of the "North Pole."
 
From 22 November to 26 December the route will operate Santa Express trains with St. Nick giving kids Christmas bells and taking their wish lists.
 
"Besides red-nosed reindeer, do you have a problem with wildlife down here?" I ask.
 
"We see deer and bighorn sheep," Gay relates.
 
"One time we were coming back on the dinner train and there was a Chihuahua on the track. We stopped and tried to catch him, but he kept avoiding us. He ran almost 3 1/2 miles at about six miles per hour before getting off the tracks."
 
The canyon soon becomes a cliff-hemmed corridor with tracks hugging one wall and river rapids pounding the other.
 
A group of rafters splash downstream.
 
"Do you want to blow the whistle?" Cacy asks.
 
Of course I do!
 
I pull the lever and a deep, melodic, blast reverberates off the canyon walls.
 
Grinning madly, I feel as proud as a horn-honking Texan driving through a mountain tunnel.
 
The rafters wave.
 
I wave back.
 
"The bridge is around the next corner," Gay announces.
 
Built as a tourist magnet in 1929, Royal Gorge Bridge once stood as the highest suspension bridge in the world.
 
While summer's devastating wildfire barbecued nearly every topside structure, the span suffered only superficial damage.
 
Not far beyond lies the Royal Gorge Route's end of the line.
 
Lacking the ability to make a U-turn, the train simply reverses direction for the return, with the locomotive pushing from the back.
 
Instead of riding at the rear like a tail dog in a sled team, I'm given a panoramic seat in one of the train's Super Dome cars.
 
I still wave to folks along the tracks, but it's just not the same.
 
Dan Leeth.