The Lambertville record. [volume] (Lambertville, N.J.) 1872-1968, 1895-09-25
A NIGHT RIDE.

AN Il a
The bicycle is a queer instrument.
You think you know all about it; then
suddenly you find there are still things
to learn. The other evening got on my
bicycle and worked my way for five or
six miles through one of the prettiest
lanes in England to a country village
where friend Of mine lives The lane
which leads to this village is one i'll
which did good deal of practicing
when first took to the bicycle some
months ago. 1t is bordered by hedges
and trees ON each side and looks like a
long green funnel through which the
sun sends some fiittering, Pickering rays
down on the excellent roadway, making
a sort of dancing carpet of light and
shade, eternally weaving themselves to-
gether and mimioking in shadow and
sunshine the interlacing of the trees
above.
But there is, alas, along the side of
this lane ditch with which ! have be-
fore now made acquaintance while
teaching myself how to ride. 1t is al
ways pleasant experience for bicy,
cler to revisit spot where he has had
his conflicts with the machine. 1t gives
him a sense of having accomplished
something. l recognized all the places
where had been thrown i'll the ditch
and where had been thrust through the
hedge 1t was nice to know that these
exciting days were past, and that now
rode the machine as if / were part of it.
The lane is lonely place at any time
of the day. Broader roads and more di-
rect ones lead to the little village have
spoken of, but whose name | need not
mention. My friend proved SO entertain
ing that staid on and on. was in
vited to stop for dinner, and l did. l
was afterward censured for this, when
ultimately did reach home. People in
the country, was told, were not al
ways prepared to receive unexpected
visitors to dinner. 1t was not the thing
to drop down with my bicycle upon a
helpless man in the country and then
hang around the premises until ! was
invited to dinner. l am always putting
my foot in it this way. 1t makes mo feel
guilty afterward, but what is man to
do?
1t was pitch dark when l left the
house, and when came to the entrance
of the lane it was even darker than
pitch, if such thing be possible. l lit
my bicycle lamp for tho first time in
my life. The lamp had cost me lot of
money and was said to be the best i'll
the market, but when it tried to COM
pete with the appalling darkness Of the
lane / saw what futile thing it was
1t shed dim circle of light long way
ahead that didn't seem to me to be of
much practical use. pushed the ma
chine along and sprang lightly on its
back. Now / thought / knew how to
ride perfectly, but was to find out that
riding in the broad daylight and riding
in the darkness are two entirely differ
ent things. The machine gave a wabble
first in one direction and then in the
other and my heart came into my mouth
when / found that unless / saw the
wheel did not know how to balance
the concern. Sitting down a moment
afterward, fortunately not on the side
where the ditch was, l had some time
to mediate ON the situation. The wheel
was on top of me, and tho lamp was
out. This was old times over again, and
l had not even the chance in the dark
ness to select the spot on which to fall.
l did not like the idea of trundling the
machine all the way along the lane
when ought to be able to do SO much
better time ON its back, SO | rose slowly,
placed the machine upright again, and
relit the lamp. The lamp hung on
couple of vacillating flanges which APP
parently were actuated by springs and
gave the lamp a wabbly motion when
you joggled unexpectedly over stone. l
got once more upon the machine, this
time with better success, and we went
along nicely for some distance. Then
got off again. Coming along that road
in the daylight the lane seemed perfect
ly smooth and unobstructed. Yet / sud
denly came against some unseen obstacle
that appeared to me as alighted to be
a bowlder lying ON the road. 1t was in
reality stone about the size Of my fist
The lamp had gone out of course stimuli
taneously with my fall. This one have
goes out whenever I joggle over any
thing. have been told that it was on
account of the bad oil | was using, but
have since secured the most expensive
oil in the market, an oil with a beauti-
ful name, but the lamp joggles out just
the same.
After going over the stone saw that
/ had to do something definite with the
lamp took out my handkerchief and
tied down the springs, so that the disk
of light touched the front wheel This
wasn't SO bad, as it showed me plainly
the stones in the road, but hardly in
time for me to avoid them, although |
did dodge some by performing acrobatic
feats that usually led to the ditch. In
my evolutions and anxiety about the
lamp had forgotten the existence Of
that ditch, but it was there just the
same, lying how and saying nothing.
found it without the least trouble. The
lamp went out again, of course, and
began to fear that would not have
matches enough to last until | got into
the radius Of street lamps. | crawled
out of the ditch, righted the machine
and once more applied match to the
wick. had lost the handkerchief, but
tied the lamp down with the oiling
cloth. I was bowling along at rapid
and satisfactory pace through the bright
circle Of light in front Of me, when all
o+ o,,oa 1pith;n an incredibly short dis