Property:Has text
From Off the Road Database
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C
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<p>We had an easy trip to Evanston that day, near the edge of Wyoming. We had been ten days crossing this state that motorists now cross in a day. We found good accommodations at Evanston, but when we asked for a room with bath, we were told the bathroom was packed full of stored goods and could not be used. We got a good laugh out of that.
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<p>We fought bad roads all day through the Bitter Creek country where we were warned not to drink the water or put it in the radiator because it contained so much alkali. The good water was brought in on tank cars, from which we filled our radiator. At night we found the road impassable because of mud and water, and I thought we were stuck there for the night. Fred and "Road Louse 2," as a facetious friend had dubbed our car, left the road and went bouncing on its coil springs over sagebrush and around rocks, while I held my breath and gripped the side of the seat in my endeavor to stay with them. We went over a hill and down, landing at a section house occupied by Austrians who spoke or understood very little English. We surprised them as much as if we had come down in an airplane.
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<p>We reached Rawlins at noon the next day and had lunch in a quite pretentious hotel. Sandy roads slowed us up in the afternoon and we had to stop at Daley's, a big sheep ranch, for the night. We were made welcome by six young men who showed every possible courtesy. One young man was very anxious about a bad ditch we would have to cross the next morning. He offered to take a team of horses and pull us through, but Fred said the car was going every foot of the way under its own power. I believe they felt sorry for us because our car was so small, not realizing the Brush could get through places impossible for a larger automobile.
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<p>Next morning, after a few miles we ran into that same river to ford again, but good fortune was still with us; there was another construction camp and gang. Fred went over to where they were working and bargained for a man and team which towed the car through the water, the man sitting in the car as proud as a king while he drove the horses. I walked over the railroad bridge again.
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<p>When they came out of the store and saw our automobile with its signs, they woke up and began asking questions, but we got in the car as they declared that no auto had ever been over the road, and that no auto could get through. We paid no attention to them and drove away as they stared in astonishment. They watched us out of sight, probably expecting us back before evening. We went through sandy valleys and over summits until at dusk we found ourselves climbing between towering bluffs with stars peeping at us through the opening at the top. On the broad summit other roads converged on ours, and soon after we started the descent, we were flagged to a stop by a man with a red lantern. He demanded seventy-five cents toll, which we gladly paid.
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<p>We left Ely about three in the afternoon, expecting to reach Barnes's ranch that night or have to camp out, as there was no habitation along the way. We could reach out and touch snow in many places along the eight miles to the top of Murry's Canyon. The truss rod on one side broke as we were climbing, allowing the rear axle to move forward, thus loosening the chain, which came off the sprocket teeth.
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<p>When this route was pointed out to them, they looked up a thousand feet or more to a line on the mountain side which was their road. This seemed to be the crucial part of the climb as it was so steep most cars could not get gasoline to their carburetors and so became stalled. Up to this time no one had heard of vacuum tanks or fuel pumps, and automobiles obtained their gasoline supply by gravity only. This did not bother the Brush Runabout because it was equipped with the only known diaphragm fuel pump which brought the fuel from the tank under the floor boards to a fuel cup on top of the engine. With that arrangement, the motor could be kept running even if the car were standing on end, which accounted for the Brush's ability to get over steep places.
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<p>The eeriness of the day was climaxed at Hanna, where we ate lunch, by the pervading gloom of the villagers. Upon inquiring what was wrong, we were told that a second mine disaster had occurred within the last few days and bodies still were being brought up out of the shaft. We were glad to move on, even if it might be to trouble of our own ahead.
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<p>After fifteen miles we came to the hot springs steaming out of the ground and rocks. There is always an uncanny feeling about an earthquake or steam coming out of the ground. We stopped, and Fred took off his shoes and stockings and waded around in the water as I took pictures. Indians came here from miles around for hot bath treatments, running the water from pool to pool as they wanted different temperatures.
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<p>PERFECTLY ACCEPTABLE. COMPLIMENTS TO PLUCKY MRS. TRINKLE.
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<p>HOSPITALITY SHORTENS A LONG WAIT
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<p>Fred found a garage in Tonopah and the proprietor allowed him to use the machinery to repair the broken truss rod. We stayed here half a day, picking up mail and meanwhile changing our plans. From here we had expected to go south through Goldfield, Stovepipe, and Skidoo, but we were warned we would find sand on the edge of Death Valley, below sea level, where we would have to be towed ten miles by a team at the cost of $40.
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<p>We left Denver September 28, 1908, stopping at the office of the Denver Post for a picture, then passed through Fort Collins on the way to Tie Siding, Wyoming; where we came to the Union Pacific Railroad. We followed it for days, near or far, according to the way the wagon road ran. At Tie Siding we got a late dinner and after much shifting about of sleeping children, we were given a bed.
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<p>Within a mile after starting again, we forded the river where we might have had trouble after dark, and came to Medicine Bow. We had trouble through this section with the high road centers. The roads were sixty inches wide while our car was fifty-six inches, the regulation width, and the ruts were worn deep by wagon wheels so our flywheel did not always clear the ground beneath.
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<p>After the first world war this nation became road-conscious, spending immense sums on new highways until improved roads with numerous signs and signals extended in every direction. Eventually the motorist was catered to in every state with such innovations as service stations, hot dog stands and motor clubs.
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<p>However, in a few days Briscoe wrote to Fred, asking if he would outfit the car in Denver, drive it to the Pacific Coast, then meet it in Detroit and drive it to New York City in time for the winter motor show. He said he would send a man from the factory to go as observer if he had no one in Denver to go with him. It appalled us at first to think of driving such a little car over the long, uninhabited distances we knew existed throughout some of the western states. We never would have entertained the idea if Fred hadn't been such a good automobile mechanic. We had been to California by train several times over different roads and knew something of what to expect, traveling over the mountain ranges and passes so late in the season.
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<p>Friends told us later that they never expected to see us alive again, but they were wise enough not to fill us with forebodings. Fortunately, both of us had optimistic dispositions and did not anticipate trouble before we came to it.
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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>It was always my duty, while Fred attended to the car, to scout around and gather up all our tools after we had stopped to work on the side of the road in Wyoming—and that was very often—so I felt the loss of the shovel was all my fault.
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<p>The two men stayed all night on the top at the Summit House, 14,147 feet above sea level. Next day they found the descent much more difficult and dangerous than the climb, for it meant holding back around boulders and other obstructions on narrow, rough, curving trails. On the way down, the bottom of the gasoline tank hit a rock and broke off the drain plug, but they grabbed a gallon can they had in the car for carrying water and saved enough of the gasoline so that by using a squirt gun, they were able to feed enough fuel into the gas line to keep the engine running until they reached Cascade, where they bought a gallon more and this took them to Colorado Springs.
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