The Brattleboro reformer. (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1907-1912, 1907-09-27

oape into illimitabe space, Az the spcea
we make the wind pressure on TINS iuhhei
shaped track is appalling in its force. ~
seems like battering ram opposing itsen
to the onrushing car we tear nions
breathless. But the siS-cylindered lungs
OF the car, though quick, are steady ana
calm. The pulse of the sole passenger IN
the two-seated racer was 6S at the start;
At the finish the pace of the heart had
accelerated uncomiortably tQ lO3.
The angle of the trackbanks in some
spots exceeds 40 degrees. In racing car,
which runs high up on the banking, such
AN angle suggests motoring on the sheer
face Of preepice. Were the car to stop
for one second, il would topple over IN q
helpless heap The law Of centrifugal
force alone Keeps il clinging to the steep
concrete surface.
We take the curves of the circle at full
speed ahead-it is said this may be done
safely up 10 100 miles an hour, always
provided that nothing gives" beneath the
bonnet and that the heet.footed wheels
be iawlessly shod. In the battle for
speed supremacy there is little doubt that
the Brooklands track will see within
few weeks the fulflment of the twomiles
a minute ideal. After that-what?
The saucer sides Of the two.foot bank
ing are too sheer for man TO climb. As
thu car starts low down on the incline,
one seems TO fly off at tangent from
the circle which the ear is describing. And
the instinct is TO thug" toward the side
of apparent safety. Taking TO the highest
possible route around the basin, as one
soon does on a racing car, is breathless
and blood-tingling moment. To breast
the steep sides of the Brooklands f'pud~
ding basin" is the nearest possible APP
preach to cliff climbing by car. Rushing
round the cornice near the top all sorts
and conditions of cars semi-racers, tour
ers and runabouts are ranged around the
sides of the basin in tiers varying accord
ing to the speed or the slowness that is in
them.
Circling for the first time around the
track in whirl of speed familiar objects
are absolutely blurred to sight The
landscape is a mere panoramic tumble of
trees, sky and telegraph posts. Here
and there yellow or scarlet flag is thrust
forth from one of the seven sentry boxes
dotted round the track. The flag spells
something transatable to the driver--it
tells how many laps have been covered.
To the passenger it but adds to the blur,
bewilderment and Kaleidoscope color OF
the swift-moving scene. All ones familiar
everyday sense of proportion and level
are turned topsy-turvy. On all sides the
curves, banks and sleeps of the track
seem rising in wrath to stop the oncoming
car.
7 But gradually out of the confused,
chaotic medley of the first lap comes or
der and form-though there is no "let up
iii the rush and tear of the wind pressure.
Slowly, as ones sight focuses itself
to the pace, certain objects materialize,
the surrounding landscape bears some
faint resemblance to the familiar things
of earth. And then all of sudden the
| freGrpn1p nf tho ris tbp cnpa1 cat H..
ers once again, one shuts ones eyes
; against the tornado of wind, whose resist.
ance beats the air out of the lungs and
leaves one gasping and suffocated
But when all is done, wonderful men.
tai and physical afterglow succeeds. One
has drunk deep of the elixir of speed, and
soul and spirit are intoxicated. Each tbs.
sue of the body has been laved in oxygen
and fed on the tonic of a wind-swept
: space.
What would happen if tire burst at
80 miles an hour?" had asked the driver
| as he moved the gear lever into first
/ speed.
1T would be exceedingly interesting to
find the answer to your question: was
the enigmatic reply. The solving of the
problem was denied us on this occasion.
! The front wheels of the car, as seen
, from behind, seemed set in grim determi.
| HdllUll, UOWeu Il ulIit IKE DulluUS , IeBss
| They gripped the concrete with a bite
which defed side-slip. But | must con-
! fess that / kept my eye, in so far as eyes
can keep at such pace, on the fast
revolving tires of our racer. The effect
of the track on rubber and many other
, working details are at present an I'M
, known quantity. Therefore as one circled
, round the smoothsurfaced speedway jum-
, bled half-questions and confused answers
! arose in the mind concerning sudden
snap in some vital part, the momentary
, failure of our brake power, tiny flaw
in the rubber-shod Wheel
! At 100 miles an hour one reflected sage.
ly on the futility of the doctor, trained
nurse and model little hospital so thor
, oughly provided on the club premises! But
mental and physical exhilaration run too
| joyous and vibrant to permit any note
! of tragedy to enter into this speed king
dom The Call of the Wild is in the
+, blood. This frenzied love of speed repre-
sents the escape for the moment from
the trammels of convention. 1t is the
same primal instinct which prompts the
dash of the Dartmoor convict for free
, don. against all odds and reasonable
! sporting chance. 1t is this instinct to
! get free which underlies the fascination
of ballooning Motortrack racing offers
still more delightful escape from the
: monotonous cages of conventional civili-
, cation.
But speed-madness in the daytime is a
sane cold-blooded passion compared with
similar seizure in the darkness of the
night At IL at night, after our l00-mile
an hour of the afternoon, we determined
to be the first motorists to TRY OUT
the speed of the track on black, cloudy
night. Our cleaning headlights and
few improvised lanterns dotted here and
there on the course, alone broke the inky
darkness around us. There were no land
marks or clearly defined points to pilot
by The cleaning concrete seemed like
formless Sahara of sand. We careered
around, as it were in trackless white
desert. On and on in motor monotone,
round and round, it seemed to the imagi-
nation as though, Wandering jew like,
we were doomed to a ceaseless and ever
lasting motoring circle. A small crowd
of spectators stood on the observation
tower and watched our headlights steal
ing round the dark track, our top speed
in the dim state of the track touching
only some 20 miles an hour.
1t was a weird and mysterious expe-
rience, the fragrant pine trees and sweet
summer scents of this picturesque spot IN
Surrey adding to the unique charm Of
motor-track racing at midnight.-Annesley
Kenealy in London Mail.
William H. Wall of East Hampton, Conn,
: killed hen recently that was actually too
;. fat to eat while it was standing She
: weighed pounds and ounces.
: trolley car jumped the track in Pitts
or1 ran intn StOrP