Property:Has text
From Off the Road Database
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C
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<p>When we got back to a sheep herder's wagon that we had seen in the foothills earlier in the afternoon, Fred walked through the flock of sheep to the wagon where the herder had just lit a candle. He said we should have stayed in the valley and must go back to Lucin to get on the right road. We were pretty discouraged, and to add to our troubles, the car came to a stop a few miles further on. Upon investigation, we found that a pin was lost out of the propeller shaft and, since we had no other and could not find this one in the dark, we were obliged to camp there for the night, though it was cold and snowing. There was dry wood all around us, so we built a fire for light as well as warmth, pushed the car up into a tall juniper tree after cutting off some branches, spaded up the sand and put some canvas on it for a bed, using the car cushions for pillows, and hung up some more canvas on the side of the car and tree to keep off the wind. We ate a little lunch from our hamper and our chewing gum came into good use, as we had no water except that which we drained from the radiator for fear of freezing. That was not fit to drink, so we carefully conserved it for the next day.
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<p>Next day, on our way to Evanston, we stopped to choose between two roads. Fred thought we should take the one that went down into a gulch or river bottom, while I urged that we keep to higher ground, because if we made the descent, sometime we would have to come back to a higher level. We sat there pondering for a while, for we could not afford to take the wrong road, when, looking behind us, we saw a man on horseback coming up the gulch. We ran back and hailed him before he could get out of sight. He saw us, stopped, waited for us to reach him, and told us to keep to the higher road. All day long it seemed that a miracle had happened just when we were in our worst straits.
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<p>We carried signs on the Brush—"This car climbed Pike's Peak"—"From Detroit to San Francisco," and the like. Before we could remove our wraps at the hotel, reporters besieged us for information concerning our trip. We also received a call from a couple in the city who owned a Brush Runabout, and they used all kinds of persuasion to get us to stay a few days and visit a beautiful canyon with them, but Weber Canyon had quenched our desire for more canyons at that time and we were bent on moving as fast as possible. However, we did appreciate this courtesy in a strange city.
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<p>We had been told by an Alaskan miner that chocolate and raisins make a substantial diet and will sustain life for days. We added chewing gum, which quenches thirst if water is unfit or absent, and we thought we could keep from starving for quite a time if the car broke down far from help or we got lost. We knew there were no road signs of any kind along the way, so we carried a compass and railroad maps.
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<p>We ran into a high road center and embedded the flywheel in the earth, but we managed to back out and soon were headed toward the light which shown from a rancher's window. It was about nine at night. A barbed wire fence halted us before we could reach the house. As I sat under the dripping umbrella, Fred walked along the fence until he came to an entrance near the house. A man opened the door, and very definitely refused to let us spend the night there, but after some urgent pleading on Fred's part he relented and told him how to drive the car into the yard.
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<p>Toward evening a section boss met us and ordered us off the track, under penalty of arrest. We were tired, wet, and discouraged. I looked down at him from my side of the car and said, "I guess being arrested wouldn't stop us any longer than that mud would." He smiled and said he guessed it wouldn't, but for us to get off as soon as possible, for the dirt road was better now. Fred told him we would be only too glad to get off, because the bouncing over the ties was getting the best of us. In a short time we found a crossing and drove onto a road which was none too good. When we came to a box car, a woman greeted us and, realizing this was a last desperate chance for a night's lodging, I asked her if she would keep us overnight and she agreed.
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<p>We had hoped to make Lucin the next day, but heavy sand held us back through a barren land—the only human being we saw that day was a man driving a flock of sheep. We camped by the roadside for lunch from our hamper, frying bacon and making coffee. That night we stopped at a sheep ranch, the owner coming in late at night with the flock of sheep we had seen on the road. We spent a good night there, little thinking what was to be ahead of us before we slept again.
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<p>Just before we started the next morning, a man among the crowd around the car quietly told Fred that about a mile down the road he would see a railroad switch with a broom and shovel standing by it. Then he winked. We drove slowly with our eyes glued on that track, found the switch with its broom and shovel, quickly added the shovel to our outfit and were ready for any emergency once more. Now it was my concern that the handle, stamped U. P. R. R., was kept hidden back of my feet when we came to a town on this railroad, where keen eyes might see it and know it did not belong to us. This shovel saved us later in many places.
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<p>WESTWARD PIONEERS-A BRUSH AND THE TRINKLES
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<p>Our next stop was Kelton, 17 miles away, but we found low ground with mud and water all the way. Travel was slow, with the car very erratic in starting and stopping. Fred couldn't find the reason although he fussed over the car, hunting for the trouble in every conceivable part until he was worn out tramping around the car in the mud.
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<p>About halfway to Montello the car came to a stop. One look under the hood was all that was needed. Three teeth were broken out of the timing gear. That meant three things: First, to get a team to tow the car into Montello, for we were determined to keep advancing; second, to get a new gear from the factory; and third, a long wait, perhaps making us get to the Coast too late, although we still were on the main railroad and that was in our favor in getting the gear from the factory. So much had happened in the last twenty-four hours, and now to have our cheerful little car silent and still was tough luck.
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<p>Fred put in the batteries he had taken off the running boards to keep them dry, and at the first turn of the crank the motor was chugging, ready to go. We neared Granger, Wyoming, at noon, but could not go into the village because there was no bridge across the river. We were told we would find one eight miles up the river if we followed the Oregon Short Line Railroad. This we did, stopping on the rustic bridge for lunch from our hamper, as no one was at home at a ranch where we had hoped to get a meal. There was hardly a sign of a road on the other side so we decided not to go back to Granger for our main road, but to go across the prairie toward train smoke we could see at times in the distance, keeping on the high ridges where it was smoother for the car. There was more or less uncertainty in this, but it was necessary at times that we should decide many problems by ourselves, so we took the risk. After an hour or so we came to a road; we followed it and it turned out to be the right one.
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<p>After good food and a restful night at Rock Springs, we were quite ourselves again as we started another day's work. We ate lunch at Green River and continued, slowly covering ground in this barren land. About sundown we came to a river which high-wheeled wagons and long-legged horses could ford, and Fred was sure he could drive the car through it, but it was pretty wide with rapids and I walked over the railroad bridge, while he and the little car plunged into the water. The motor stopped in midstream.
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<p>Fred cut a small tree the right length and size with his hatchet, notched it to fit where the truss rod should go, drove it into place to hold the axle firmly, and we were on our way again. He had to repeat this procedure several times, finally carrying several pieces with him as they kept splitting. We reached the Barnes ranch long after dark.
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<p>After leaving this place we had to use the shovel three times in the first mile, and put in a strenuous time over lonely country roads, reaching Rock Springs for the night. There we found a new hotel with steam heat, but we shocked the proprietor by asking him for a room with bath, and found there was no such thing in the building.
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<p>Nearing the top, they came to the famous "W" where the road travels left for half a mile, then doubles back on a hairpin curve to the point where it started but about 200 feet higher, then back on another hairpin curve, completing the "W." The camera man, tall and heavy, climbed from road to road taking pictures of the car on the "W." They climbed completely around the mountain, coming to the top from the opposite side of the "W." It was a 23-mile climb and had taken all day. Often during the trip both men sat with one foot outside the car so as to be ready to jump to safety if they saw the little car tottering on the edge of the narrow, crumbling road.
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<p>That afternoon's journey was slow and monotonous. After dark we crossed the North Platte River on a bridge that careened so much I was afraid we might slide off into the stream; then we progressed along a muddy road on the sloping bank of the river to Fort Steele, a big, barren building. It was a relic of the old Indian fighting days, but we found that food and shelter were the most important things after a hard day's work.
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<p>From Albany they went down the side of the Hudson River, but on a steep hill the car coasted to a stop. They found the timing gear had lost some teeth again. It was similar to the accident we had had in Nevada. Fred, fearing much trouble, had the foresight to add an extra timing gear to his parts at Detroit before starting. They simply pushed the car to the sunny side of a barn and made the change in zero weather. After an hour and a half the new gear was in place, the engine timed, and they were on their way.
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<p>We found a bathroom in this hotel at Ogden, but could use it only by paying extra. We stayed in Ogden half a day, sending and receiving mail. Then we were on our way to Promontory in the afternoon through a fitful wind and under threatening skies. A single Mormon family lived there, but they kept travelers. We stayed with them two days during a rain, meanwhile hearing much about the bad roads ahead of us around the edge of Salt Lake. We were told we would have to drive on the railroad tracks to get through, but we thought this was a bit exaggerated. We were glad for the chance of a rest at Promontory, which gave us a chance to catch up on our correspondence.
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<p>We came as near to catastrophe this day as any time on our trip. It was uneven country with some steep hills, and on one I walked behind the car carrying a rock to block a rear wheel when necessary. The roads often followed creek or river bottoms on the climb to the summit, where the mountains usually broadened out before the descent on the other side. But on this one, the descent began as soon as we reached the top, and on a curve we had to avoid a bad rock that towered in the center of the road.
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