Pearl stood frozen beneath the shadow of the bridge. She gripped the trussed column until her fingers turned white.

The steamer sat on the boulder beside the lazy river. Between bites of a picnic, he skipped a few stones across its clear surface, upsetting the reflection of white clouds, and laughed with the lean figure beside him.

Her.

Again.

Women flocked him ever since he'd been crowned the train champion (no surprise there), but every time Pearl came close, that one teal truck would always be hovering nearby. Rusty didn't try to escape her attentions like he did with the others. As the months passed, the friendly light in his eyes had grown into something deeper when he looked at her.

Pearl didn't think she was pretty or his type. Rusty certainly had his pick of more feminine vehicles who regularly threw themselves at him, but none of those carriages enjoyed an invitation to sit beside the river with him. Alone.

The way Rusty looked at that truck stabbed at Pearl's aching heart like a rusted blade.

The sound of soft wheels rolled behind her, bringing with it an aroma of tobacco. "Pearl, what're you doing down here?"

Pearl rested her head against the metal beam.

The smoking car drew closer. Then a sound of sympathy. "I see." Ashley touched her arm. "Don't torture yourself, doll. Leave with dignity."

Pearl clenched her teeth. On the advice of her friends - Ashley included - Pearl had left Rusty when another engine offered something better. When that engine had been unsavory, she left him for yet another man who revealed himself to be worse. That train had uncoupled her during the race, nearly causing her to wreck. Rusty swooped in and saved her at the risk of his own victory, yet he managed to win anyway.

Guilt ridden, Pearl had avoided him. Perhaps if she'd been brave enough to face him, she might've been the one next to him right now, making him laugh. But Pearl had been a coward, and within days of the race, that teal truck could be seen wherever Rusty went.

She'd been the repair truck of the superstar challenger, Electra the electric locomotive. After he lost the race, Electra had ran off, enraged, into the desert, leaving behind his team of five trucks. No search party had found him. Perhaps in the absence of her employer, the mechanic needed an engine to look after, and the rusted champion fit the bill.

Rusty flexed his now repaired arm for her. The mechanic inspected it. Her touch lingered. Rusty watched her, fascinated.

Pearl finally turned away. Her flattened palms pumped like a steamer's pistons. "I coulda had him," she whispered. Her voice trembled with suppressed rage.

Ashley didn't hear her, or if she did, she didn't acknowledge it.

Pearl pumped her arms once more. "I coulda had my dream train."

But she lost him. She left it too late.