North of Boston
THEY aint much happened sence the last riting. Just before the freeze up, Southworth Machine down to Portland phones that ray 1910 Marion roadster is awl rebuilt.
Put on the long handled underwear and load the coonskin coat, mittens, hunting boots and the Dreadnaught into the Mercury.
Come Portland I turn the Dread- naught loose with the Mercury to shop and pick up the Marion. Her engine is awl rebuilt just like new. Pay the bill, fill her up with go oil, twist her tail and start.
She has 33 x 4 cord tires, right hand drive, acetylene headlights. They is no side curtains and a six inch gap be- tween the top and windshield. Real open air deal.
It is wun of them still afternoons just before winter shuts down. Sun slants on the rolling brown fields, bare woods and white houses banked against the cold.
A 1910 job drives a lot different than a 1948. Awl to wunce I am a kid learn- ing to drive with my Dad setting be- side me, back in the days when we and the world was secure. Back in the days of Woodrow Wilson, before they was A bombs, national debts and super sonics, when we wore knickers and long black stockings and could go to the movies for a dime.
Twenty miles out of Portland I stop for kauphy and a cigarette. I see a city slicker with a new Chrysler looking the Marion over real curious.
"Pretty old car" he condescends,
I see he is a spoon fed fool and dont know much. "That's right" I tell him
"Down on the farm we dont need a car more than five thousand miles a year. When this one gives out I shall get me a Model A Ford. I hear real good things about them."
I yank the commencer and leave him there gawping.
The landscape keeps rolling up while the exhaust drums and the wind whips by cold and clear and the sun drops slow and easy.
Dont know when I have had more fun on a trip. I would have giv most anything to have had some of. you fellers along. You would uv liked it.
