Gospel of the Horns
My grandfather did a lot of jobs. I’m sure many weren’t pretty and most weren’t glamorous, but the way he spun yarns each was an inspiring adventure. The stories I remember the most were about his days working for the railroad. I think he must have started telling the tales the moment I was born because thinking of my granddad, I can’t help but think of the railroad.
There’s already something about the huge cars and the powerful diesel engines that just grab the heart of a boy’s imagination. But my granddad’s stories and his passion to reclaim a symbol of his time on the Santa Fe imprinted on me a memory I will never forget.
Some of my earliest memories with my grandfather are riding around Albuquerque in his truck, running errands and looking for a new horn. He already had several by the time I could recall – all mounted in a small switchboard under the driver’s side dashboard near the door. Each switch selected a different horn and, I think, a few could be turned on at once. The music that truck produced was interesting at least. It was like great flock of mechanical ducks trapped in a beastly steel cage.
But the odd sounds weren’t what my granddad was after. He wanted the majestic baritone of a powerful diesel locomotive and his search never ended. In fact, I can remember weekend trips to the automotive store, trying new horns, creating new sounds, and theorizing on the missing instrument needed to complete the proper ensemble. I couldn’t have been more than 5 or 6.
Several years later, I watched with my brother as a huge RV parked in front of our house. The vehicle carried its size well, not too proudly, but with enough confidence to match the air horn it wore above the cab. My granddad hopped out of the driver’s seat and came to greet us. With a twinkle in his eye, he said he had something to show us. I knew right away what it was. He blasted the horn and looked at me for a response.
“That is a great locomotive.” I said. Thinking the search was over.
“It’s pretty close.” he replied. “But not quite there, yet.”
Many, many… many years have passed since that day. My granddad is no longer with us. But I read a story the other day that would make him smile. The article lead me to this site, which is the home of the Horntones FX-550, a souped-up mp3-based car horn. Technology has finally caught up with his passion.
The thing is, I now know the search for the ultimate horn wasn’t so much about finding the perfect sound. It was about the search itself. While I can’t help but think of my granddad every time I hear a diesel locomotive sound its warning, it’s not because the horns were important to me. It’s because he took the time to involve me in his world those few precious moments. So, although I might just have to get an FX-550 for the Suburban in memory of my grandfather (to my wife’s great frustration I must add), I know if he were around it would be pretty close, but not quite perfect.