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enjoying the
ridiculous spectacle we make and
savoring our excursion
into automotive history. There are also more visceral pleasures, the thrill of competition. Having been chased down and toyed with by a Willowick man on a racing bike on the first day, we have better luck in Caledonia, N.Y. We win a race with a teenager on in-line skates. It is a small victory - winning a race with a child -- but when you have a 98-year-old |
vehicle,
you take what you can get. We follow two lane roads and avoid holding up traffic by moving onto the shoulder as often as possible. However, that means the person who is not driving has to spend a fair amount of time looking backward, because Winton did not equip the 1899 with a rearview mirrors. After all, what did he expect to see back there? Despite our best efforts, sometimes we clog up traffic for a few miles, but finally, |
when people do get around
us, they are rarely mad. There are generally waves or
friendly toots. A sight to behold In towns, almost everyone waves. Try waving at a strange woman under any other circumstances, and the response is likely to be extremely chilly at best and could involve gunfire at worst. Sitting on an 1899 Winton presents such a preposterously friendly picture that everyone waves. We also spread more than our fair share of mirth. In one town, five or six teenage girls |
collapse in giggles as we
pass, apparently trying not to hurt our feelings, but
incapable of controlling themselves. Small children adore
our horn, which sounds like the world's largest goose. Honk. Winton and Shanks had similar experiences. "In most towns the population turned out, yes, even the yellow dogs' and black cats were there to see what to them was a wonderful sight. Many cheers were sent our way by the husky farmer folk," Shanks wrote. There were a few |