Why We Built TPLX 1776

Over the last weekend of August, close to three dozen locomotives gathered at the NC Transportation Museum in Spencer, North Carolina. Class I railroads sent power. Short lines and regionals sent power. Passenger railroads and preservation groups sent theirs. All of it painted for the 250th anniversary of American independence, arranged around the Bob Julian Roundhouse, the largest surviving roundhouse in North America.

The Prairie Line sent TPLX 1776. The number was not an accident: 1776 is where the country started, and 2026 marks two hundred and fifty years since. But the reason we painted it had less to do with the anniversary and more to do with who we wanted to thank.

The design came from inside the company. Abigail Van Dyke, on our St. Louis team, hand-sketched paint schemes onto printed photos of one of our units until she found the one. Her father served thirty years in the Air Force, and she spent her childhood and early career as an Air Force civilian. “I am so thankful for the opportunity to use my love for creativity and design to honor our servicemembers, especially my father,” she said. The flag became the centerpiece, its stripes running the length of the locomotive along the same lines as our

blue-and-white scheme.

“We dedicate this locomotive to the veterans on our team, the veterans who work for our customers, and every military member who has served or is serving today,” said Aaron Broyles, president of The Prairie Line. “Our company is able to thrive and support our community because of the men and women who stand in the gap and sacrifice for all of us.”

Then TPLX 1776 had to be made ready. Before the unit went to Spencer, our mechanical team went through it end to end. Whatever it needed, they sorted out. That is not a special-occasion capability. It is the same work that keeps our fleet available for the plants we serve,

and it is why a locomotive problem is never the reason a switch is missed. Our customers do not see that work. They just see cars showing up when they are supposed to.

Most of what we do happens behind a plant gate, where nobody photographs it. A locomotive painted red, white, and blue is a rare chance to point at the people doing it.

That is true on a museum turntable in North Carolina. It is more true at four in the morning, at a plant whose outbound cars have to be ready when the railroad comes for them.