# Boys' Life/Volume 1/Number 1/Tightest Corner I was Ever In

"THE TIGHTEST CORNER I WAS EVER IN";—
OR WITHIN HALF A YARD OF DEATH
By S. F. EDGE
AS the greater part of my life is spent in contact with vehicles of high speed, it is, of course, inevitable that I should have had one or two more or less narrow escapes which might very easily have had a fatal termination. My escapes have extended over a pretty considerable period now, but really, considering what a great deal I have had to do with motoring, these adventures have been by no means so frequent as you might imagine.
One of the principal things that strikes me in connection with this matter is the fact that during the actual moments of danger the motorist's mind is not in the least concerned with the question of his own personal safety, but is wholly taken up with the possibility of getting the car through without damage. It is not until afterwards that one has time to think about what might have happened to oneself.
"Suddenly, without any warning, the car got quite out of control"
I think that the two most exciting incidents which I have ever experienced were both in connection with the Gordon-Bennett Cup. In 1902, I entered for this contest, and was driving, with Cecil Edge as mechanic. The roads on the Continent are bordered at short intervals by trees on either side, and these are generally very useful to steer by when the road ahead is obscured by dust. In fact, under these circumstances, they form the sole guide as to the direction of the road's course. Upon the occasion in question, I was steering in this manner along a road which, as it transpired, curved in the shape of an S, and, only observing the left-hand bend, I made for the trees beyond, ignoring the return right-hand curve altogether.
In less time than it takes to tell, I saw a couple of heavy-looking gates loom up in front of the car, with a railway line behind them. The line ran along the top of a high embankment, up which the car was now rushing at full speed. I jammed on the brakes with all my strength, locking the wheels so suddenly that the car swung completely round twice and then pitched headlong down the embankment to the fields below. If we had struck a tree in that desperate fall, our fate would have been sealed, but it so happened that we escaped this misfortune, and actually came through the adventure unhurt.
Some peasants, who had been at work near by, ran to our assistance, and were very anxious to help in getting the car to rights again; but this we would not consent, to, for if we had allowed them to help us we should have been disqualified from the race. Their astonishment was great when we refused their well-meant offers. We were wise to do so, however, as we soon got the motor going again and eventually had the satisfaction of winning the Cup, despite what might easily have proved to be a fatal mishap.
But my worst adventure befell me the next year during the trials for the Gordon-Bennett race of 1903. I had just had a number of repairs made in my car, and it was absolutely essential that I should go round the course to see that all was working smoothly. It was a pouring wet day, and the roads had had a coating of Westrumite, which made them ​desperately slippery. However, we got going, and for some time everything went well. We had reached a steepish hill, where the road was very narrow and flanked on one side by a most precipitous decline, when suddenly, without any previous warning, the car got quite out of control. Finding myself unable to regain any power over the engine, I clapped on the brake as quickly as possible. The result was alarming in the extreme, for the locking of the wheels sent the whole motor skidding across the shiny roadway towards the edge of the precipice. Those were intensely trying moments as, with nerves at full strain and eyes staring straight before us, we slid bodily across the road to the very brink of the fatal gorge. Half a yard more and we should have been dashed to pieces, with the car like a sort of tombstone over our heads. As it was, that extra half-yard was never traversed, for fortunately the wheels bit the road again, and we remained, saved by the skin of our teeth, upon the side of the road, peering down over the rocky wall which had so nearly proved to be our death-trap.
This narrow escape illustrated very forcibly a remark which I have made in the early part of this article about the action of the mind when in danger. Seeing how near we came to going over for good and all, I should have expected my chief thought to have been for the safety of my companion and self. As a matter or fact, while we shot across the roadway, my chief and all-absorbing thought was just this: "If the car does actually go down, what an awful job those who get it up again will have." I suppose that in battle the minds of combatants must also be occupied by details of a somewhat similar nature.
It was a motoring moment that I shall never forget as long as I live.