Duke's repairs were finished in a week. The Manager came to see him at Arlesdale Works.
"How are you feeling?" he asked.
"Great!" Duke replied. "Almost feels like I've deaged a little!"
"Glad to hear you're feeling alright!" chuckled the Manager. "All the same, I feel we should run you in for a bit before putting you back on the Picnic. Stuart will be bringing up some empty trucks for Cas-ny-Hawin on the Horse and Cart. Would you like to deliver them?"
"Of course, Mr. Carlin, it would be my honour," Duke replied.
"Excellent! I'll be joining you on this run: Mr. Rollins and I have some business we need to discuss."
When Stuart arrived and shunted the empty trucks needed for the mine into a siding, Duke coupled up to them and set off, the Manager riding in his cab.
Upon arrival, Duke and the Manager found themselves gobsmacked: there, in one of the sidings, was an old tractor. Well, that's what it looked like, except there were no tires: only three sets of rail wheels: two leading wheels and a larger pair of what they could only assume were drivers.
"My god! What in King Orry's name is that tractor doing on rails?" Duke asked. Mr. Collins walked on over.
"Ah, Duke, Mr. Carlin, good tidings! You've arrived just in time to meet the replacement for our old Mine Engine, which I've had the liberty of rebuilding from an old tractor of mine. You've no need to worry about bringing up empty trucks here from Arlesdale anymore. Allow me to introduce you to Aunt Casney!"
"Why would you give a non-sentient vehicle a name?" asked the Manager.
"My dear, Carlin! Aunt Casney will be the future of all traction," insisted Mr. Collins, as he climbed into the cab of the tractor. "She may not be able to talk, but she's alive to me, and that's all that matters. You'll soon see! Now, Mr. Carlin, turn the crank on the front: only way to start her up."
The Manager wasn't enthusiastic. He saw no point in replacing steam with another form of power. Nonetheless, he walked to the front of the tractor and turned the crank. It started with a splutter and set off, leaving the Manager to inhale a rather nasty smell.
"FWAH! What a pung!"
"You're telling me!" exclaimed Duke. "Such a foul odour would never suit His Grace!"
Well, at least it worked. For a day or two anyway. Then things started to go horribly wrong: one time, it broke down upon arrival at Arlesdale. Another time, Aunt Casney broke an axle and lost a wheel when it arrived at Cas-ny-Hawin, consequently blocking the points that led to either the mine or to the Mountain Road, causing much delay for the down Boat Train while men set to work trying to get it rerailed. And at one point, the petrol-fueled engine overheated on a level crossing, and Aunt Casney had to be towed back by Stanley.
As the Manager refused to allow the smelly machine to be repaired at Arlesdale, Mr. Collins ended up tending to all repairs himself, making sure to add possible solutions to the problems it encountered. By the end of the week, to counteract the fact it had to be pushed to full throttle to achieve walking speed when it came to travelling backwards, a makeshift turntable was placed underneath the chassis. This was not perfect, however: the tractor was still prone to derailments and breakdowns. As fond of it as Mr. Collins was, none of the Mid Sodor engines shared the same enthusiasm.
"That tractor-on-rails is completely useless, always breaking down and delaying important trains," snorted Falcon.
"For once, I fucking agree," growled Stanley. "You've no idea how many times I've had to tow that ugly shithole back to the mines."
Albert nodded, somehow.
"And to think," snorted Tim, "that…thing…is meant to replace us steamers. Honestly, I'd rather my job be taken over by horses than that; at least horses don't smell."
"I doubt it will replace us," said Duke, "after all, it's owned by Cas-ny-Hawin Mine, not the Mid Sodor. I do agree about the smell though. How does Mr. Collins not smell it?"
"Maybe he's got a broken nose," suggested Falcon. "And I don't mean in the physical sense."
"What really worries me is the Mine Engine. Poor guy may never be repaired now," said Tim.
"Rubbish!" huffed Falcon. "The Mine Engine's more reliable than Aunt Casney ever will be! We just need to figure out how to show Mr. Collins that."
When Duke next saw the Manager, he spoke to him about Tim's worries.
"Do you think the Mine Engine will still be repaired?" he asked.
"He's currently still being overhauled as we speak," the Manager replied. "That being said, Tim may be partially correct: as much as I hate that ugly thing, I have a feeling Mr. Collins will eventually order us to stop the overhaul. I'm sorry Duke, I'm not sure I can say anything positive."
"It's alright," said Duke. "I know the Mine Engine's future isn't something you can control."
Meanwhile, Tim was unsuccessfully trying to convince Mr. Collins not to get rid of the Mine Engine.
"Sir, I implore you not to sell off the Mine Engine," he pleaded.
"Implore me? You IMPLORE me?! Listen here, Tim: my mine is my mine, you've no businesses in telling me how to run it. Nor have you the right to tell me how I should run my business when all you do for me is collect my lead."
"With all due respect, sir, your rail tractor isn't as reliable: the Mine Engine is much more useful."
"Steam engines take too long to start up in the morning," said Mr. Collins. "With my Aunt Casney, all you gotta do is turn the crank and she's ready to go. Ten times more efficient than you coal-powered kettles ever will be."
"Oh, you're saying breakdowns are efficient are you?"
"All engines break down, but at least with my Aunt Casney, repairs don't require lifting off a heavy boiler with a crane. Once I get all the kinks worked out, she'll be running as smoothly as pie, you'll see if she doesn't."
"Fine, be that way," snorted Tim. "But mark my words: one day, your Aunt Casney will be in a situation where she can't be repaired." And with that cryptic remark, Tim steamed off with his mine train.
"Rubbish! You are gonna carry my mine to the future, right Aunt Casney? Who's my good little tractor, it's you! Oh yes, you are!"
The workers just stood there, unsure what to make of their owner talking to a nonsentient machine. They too weren't keen on this tractor and made sure to stay away from it, which meant Mr. Collins ended up being the only one who drove it.
Little did he know, his dreams would collapse on him in the span of a week. The morning had begun with little trouble. Aunt Casney was running better than ever before. However, a careless worker accidentally got his banana peel stuck inside the gears. Nobody noticed: they were all too busy loading trucks. He tried to warn his boss about it, but found himself being called to the office by the foreman before he could.
The owner of the Mine seemed rather happy, and didn't notice the piece of banana sticking out of the gears as he travelled down the line to collect empty trucks. Suddenly, the tractor spluttered, coughed, and came to a grinding halt. Mr. Collins wondered why it had stopped moving.
"I swear I turned the crank this morning," he said. "Oh well, better turn it again before another train comes."
He got out and walked to the front, turning the crank many times. But it was no good: Aunt Casney simply refused to start.
"Come on, work! Work I order you! WORK!"
Eventually, the engine started again, so the manager started the tractor again. The engine roared, but Aunt Casney didn't move…or rather, she couldn't. That's when the manager noticed: something was jammed. He walked over to the hood and began to investigate. He forgot to turn the engine off, however.
"Ah ha! A…banana peel? How'd this get here? Never mind, you feeling better, girl?"
As he slowly pulled it out, two things happened: One, the engine roared to life violently, catching fire. Two, his hand got caught in the gears. He screamed in pain, before lifting out his arm, which was now handless. But there was worse to come: sparks flew onto some nearby grass, setting the lineside alight.
"Oh, no! My mine will be ruined! And my dear tractor will be destroyed!"
Suddenly, he began to feel lightheaded: he had forgotten about his missing hand. As the blood leaked out of where his hand had once been, he passed out, in the worst possible location. Luckily, a farmer had seen the fire. He ran over, dragged Mr. Collins to safety, and called the fire brigade, who arrived in no time, setting to work. Though they fought the fire valiantly, the flames caught up to the tractor before they arrived.
Some hours later, Duke arrived, transporting the Manager. Luckily, nothing was damaged, except for Aunt Casney. The owner was saddened over the loss of his tractor, which he only learned about upon waking in the hospital.
"My…my…MY BEAUTIFUL AUNT CASNEY!" he wailed.
"Save your breath," scolded the Manager. "You should consider yourself lucky you didn't lose all the blood."
"My invention was perfect!"
"Hardly," said the Manager before Mr. Collins could continue ranting. "Where should I start? Your tractor, for one thing, gave off a terrible smell, I'm surprised you never noticed. Also, it couldn't reverse faster than walking speed, not a problem for shunting, but in regular service, definitely troublesome."
"Please tell me at least part of her survived," pleaded Mr. Collins. To his dismay, the Manager shook his head.
"Total loss, fire did a number on her by the time they managed to get it out. You're lucky a farmer got you out of the way before the flames caught up to you."
The manager sighed as Mr. Collins began weeping.
"Cheer up, I got a surprise for you. Your loyal mine engine is back in service and ready to return to work."
The Mine Engine greeted his owner when he returned from the hospital, now sporting a prosthetic hand.
"I'm happy to see you again. Say, is that a prosthetic hand I see on you? I'm almost tempted to call you Captain Hook, only you have a hand, not a hook."
"Very funny," groaned Mr. Collins. "Anyway, there's work to do at the mines, so please, hop right to it."
"Of course sir, whatever you say."
As the Mine Engine took the owner back to the mines, the Manager turned to a workman.
"How's that new table I got you, Ralph?" he asked.
"It's great! Much better than what it used to be," Ralph replied. "And doesn't smell so bad either."
Mr. Collins overheard this exchange and wondered what exactly this new table consisted of. He brushed it off as nothing, but I think you and I know exactly what this new table is.
(Author's Note: Aunt Casney is our version of the Charley's Aunt locomotive from the Talyllyn.)