restore the road to normal condition. The normal condition may be
very bad; but whatever it is, the automobile must be constructed
so as to travel thereon, else it is not adapted to that section of
the country.
It may be discouraging to the driver for pleasure to find in rainy
weather almost bottomless muck and mud on portions of the main
travelled highway between New York and Buffalo, but that, for the
present, is normal. The manufacturer may regret the condition and
wish for better, but he cannot be heard to complain, and if the
machine, with reasonably careful driving, gives out, it is the
fault of the maker and not the roads.
It follows, therefore, that few troubles can be rightfully
attributed to defects in the road, since what are commonly called
defects are conditions quite normal to the country.
It was nearly six o'clock when we arrived at Fremont. The streets
were filled with people in gala attire, the militia were out,
--bands playing, fire-crackers going,--a belated Fourth of July.
When we stopped for water, we casually asked a small patriot,--
"What are you celebrating?"
"The second of August," was the prompt reply. I left it to the
Professor to find out what had happened on the second of August,
for the art of teaching is the concealment of ignorance.
With a fine assumption of his very best lecture-room manner, the
Professor leaned carelessly upon the delicate indicator on the
gasoline tank and began:
"That was a great day, my boy."
"Yes, sir, it was."
"And it comes once a year."
"Why, sure."
"Ahem--" in some confusion, "I mean you celebrate once a year."
"Sure, we celebrate every second of August, and it comes every
year."
"Quite right, quite right; always recall with appropriate
exercises the great events in your country's history." The
Professor peered benignly over his glasses at the boy and
continued kindly but firmly:
"Now, my boy, do you go to school?"
"Yes, sir."
"Very good. Now can you tell me why the people of Fremont
celebrate the second of August?"
"Sure, it is on account of--" then a curious on-looker nudged the
Professor in the ribs and began, as so many had done before,--
"Say, mister, it's none of my business--"
"Exactly," groaned the Professor; "it weighs a ton--two tons
sometimes--more in the sand; it cost twelve hundred dollars, and
will cost more before we are done with it. Yes, I know what you
are about to say, you could buy a 'purty slick' team for that
Here's a piece of wisdom on driving or cute car quote to study:
I drive way too fast to worry about cholesterol. ~Author Unknown
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