In grade school I lived in Montauk, NY. My family had moved there from Amityville when I was in 1st grade.
Over the hill from me was an old ice plant that was powered by a giant Atlas-Imperial diesel engine.
All throughout the neighborhood you heard it's chugga chug, chugga chug, chugga chug 24/7 for years on end. I walked past it on my way to the bus stop a half mile away twice a day and from constantly looking in open doors of the plant I became friends with old Jimmy who ran works of the plant. One day I woke up and there wasn't any chugga chug. The world seemed wrong and somehow sinister with this new disturbing silence. the sound of that engine was a heartbeat that let me know all was well with the world around me.
I got out of bed and ran through woods next to the pond all the way to the ice plant. I found Jimmy inside with a wrench in each hand and covered with grease. He explained to me that ever few years they had to shut down the engine and give it a thorough inspection and lubrication. He asked if I wanted to help and being 10 years old and in love with all things with motors I said hell yeah. We greased push rod clevises, checked belt tensions, measured compression and a bunch of other tasks. When we were done he let me throw the lever to start the big monster motor up. And back again came the soothing chugga chug, chugga chug. After this I was jimmy's part time assistant and was given my own oil can to do the oiling rounds on my way to school and again on my way home each day. There was alot that needed oiling too so it took me awhile to memorize each spot.
That engine operated continuously from 1939 to I believe 1989.
apparently it was given to a museum somewhere in the midwest and it was still in running condition.


https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Atlas-Imperial
https://youtu.be/MGYuDL34HC0
read beneath Duryea's Ice Plant
http://fultonhistory.com/Newspapers%2023/East%20Hampton%20NY%20Star/East%20Ha...
funny that they couldn't rely on nature for ice anymore due to "open winters". I guess they had global warming back in the 30s?  
Dang I wish I could get the 90HP Olds for $777 now!  

It was really something to be around that behemoth. Jimmy passed away right around the time they shut down the Ice plant.
My mother had moved me to Philly by then. He was a good old guy. I can't help but to wonder if him and the engine had a connection that cannot be put into words. He could tell you everything about what was going on with it just by the sounds from it. When something was wrong he would be nervous and upset as though he had something wrong with him.
He was trying to teach that to me. I eventually learned that on my own with my old 67 Ford Econoline and it's shoehorned-in 302. I drove the grouchy old bastard from 1990 until 2006 and I could tell you everything about it from the sounds it made.
I hope I'll become as acquainted with my S40's engine too in time.

There used to be a bunch of what looked like that Superior Sideshaft engine in the power plant part of the old Reading Terminal here in Philly. I used to sneak through the fence to swoon over them back when the place was abandoned still. When they turned it into the Convention Center all of that power plant was bulldozed out of there  

Today I Really needed a heartwarming story. Thanks

Great story, philthy. Thanks. I enjoyed it. My first engine experience was from the other end of the size spectrum and probably more usual for a young kid than yours. Mine was a .049 cubic inch Cox glow engine. A fussy little bugger to get running but once I'd figured it out it was an easy starter and reliable runner. Flew many hours of control line flying with it and put it to work hauling a 2 meter thermal glider for a bit. Also did the "oily rag" thing (look it up)a few times for laughs. I did eventually make it to working on stationary engines as part of my trade but nothing as massive as your first one.

Nice story and it brings back some neat memories had growing up.

I grew up a few doors away from a local garage.   The owner and a few of his mechanics were into stock car racing and would often take me and my sister to the races on Friday and Saturday nights.  My parents would send us with money for the tickets and we would wait outside the pits at the end of the night for our ride home.  Seems crazy now!

Anyway in the late 70s, when I was 10 or 11, the let me change the lifters on one of the cars!  They ran an air line out the back door and I climbed under the hood and went to town.  If I wasn't sure about something I'd run in and ask for help.  They took over when they wanted to be sure about something (like the majority of reassembly!), but still included me and taught me stuff.

When that car started, I was so proud!  Then a few minutes later one of the guy's came out with some paint and a brush.  He put "Head Mechanic" with my full name right on top of the car!  I was blown away.  That weekend we went racing and the announcer said my name along with the driver when the cars lined up.  Now fanfare about my age, the guy's didn't want the attention, they did it for me, so I could hear it.  How cool was that?!

Times have changed.  We don't, won't, or can't teach kids like that anymore!  I would never let my kids go racing with a bunch of mechanics and they would never let them hang around their shop let alone pick up a tool.