Bonners Ferry herald. [volume] (Bonners Ferry, Idaho) 1904-current, 1907-02-23
ONE HOUR IN A TOURING CAR.


ONE HOUR IN A TOURING CAR.
Motor Has Brought the Country
House Very Near TO Town.
Grandmother's diary Is full Of the
merry sleigh rides Of her days, but It
Is doubtful IL they had the excitement
and charm Of a modern motor dash at
twenty miles an hour through the
spring night, says the New York Post.
A half century ago the box sleighs
swept over the white-covered roads
from Marmaroneck and Rye to neigh.
boring townships, carrying loads Of fun
makers to husking bees, weddings, barn
dances and other rural diversions, al
most under the shadow OF the rapidly
growing metropolis; seldom, however.
yenturing as far as the city. But now
when II Is a matter OF only an hour
from the lights Of Broadway, excur-
sions may be Of greater length, and the
country amusements have almost disap-
peared.
The touring car shoots from the porte
eochere, taking the road along the
ridge. Below lies some lost tributary
OF the Bronx. illumined by the white
glare Of the lamps where the water
drops over the low parapet. The
brakes grind as the car descends to the
sandy roadbed. On all sides are the
black, empty treepillared aisles of the
wood. 1t does not seem possible that
less than twenty miles away lies New
York, with Its teeming millions, that
prosperous townships surrounded us on
every side. The chauffeur touches the
hIgh-speed lever. and the motor, culver
Ing. cuts Into the night The wind rise,
from a mere whistle to a deafenino
roar. log lying In the middle of tn,
way we skim as lightly as a bird and
we swing Into Jerome avenue. The
macadam gives splendid opportunity
for speeding, and, bit by bit, our driver
shaves the seconds down, until the
motor is hurrying through the darkness
at thirty miles an hour Far away
huge. fiery glow is spread over the
southern sky, wavy and blurred. II Is
the reflection Of the lights Of New
York.
AS we near the city traffic thickens.
A lone trolley car is passed as If II
were standing still, and delivery was-
'ns seem to be dropped a block at
jump; fellow motors appear, and the
hoarse "honk" OF the auto horns IL
deafening. This leg OF the course is
eaten up as quickly as the preceding
one. The silhouette of the city is more
distinct Here and there, some great
apartment hotel shoots its light |
speckled bulk into the dusk, while,
nearer at hand, the lamps on bridges
and shipping In the Harlem form
dazzling network. Our speed decreases
o modest twelve miles an hour. Fur |
Their up the river, as we rumble over |
the bridge. a traln-the same That left |
the suburban station with us-whlstles
for the draw. We Will beat 1t to 43d |
street by several minutes.
Over Into Seventh avenue We roll, |
slowly threading our way out Of the
ruck Into more open ground, where, al |
medium speed. we flash past the ele
waited pillars. A policeman holds up a
warning hand as we rush past Both |
street, but before he can say a word
We are past and two blocks away. Now
We are at Central Park West. The
rough native rock OF the park and the
dressed granite cliffs opposite cast puz.
.llng shadows across the asphalt At
51st street a mounted officer dashes out
from the curb, pulling his horse to his
and lifts two warning fingers.
You can't pass here after O'clock"
be calls, and we slip down a side street
Into the Circle, where stands the great
discoverer on his pedestal. Swinging
into Broadway, we mutsly obey the sig
nals OF numerous tall bluecoats and
regulate our speed accordingly. A few
blocks further on the lights Of Long
Acre square CLEAN warmly, and a clock
strikes the half hour as the car whirrs
to Il standstlll beside the curb. We
odve done 1t In less than sixty minutes.