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sporting
the logo of the Cannonball, the illegal
(and now defunct) cross-country race. It was a safety check, not a speed trap. The troopers were looking for New York vehicles to make sure they had current safety inspection stickers. Happily, because we have an Ohio plate, we were exempt. The vehicle de- signed by Wake's great grandfather, Alexander Winton, was a little lacking by modern standards. No seat belts. No windshield. No doors. Not much in the way of brakes. Fuel system |
meets 1899
standards., A tiller instead
of a steering
wheel. It sounds amusing, primitive -- but at the time it was invented, the 1899 would have been a high-tech marvel, a rocket- ship to people whose transportation needs were usually met by foot, bicycle or horse. About 15 minutes later, during which time we had zoomed about five miles far- thur down the road, the troopers drove past. One car slowed down and a trooper shouted: "Want to race?" In our dreams. |
The plan Such was life on the Winton Centennial, an unusual, entertaining and sometimes bizarre attempt to honor, if not drive into, the past. It was organized by the descendents of Cleveland automotive pioneer Winton and Cleveland's Frederick C. Crawford Auto-Aviation Museum to commemorate the 100th anniversary of the founding of Winton Motor Carriage Co. That was also the year that Winton and an employee drove to New York to prove the reliability of the horseless |
carriages he had been building since 1895.
However, Winton failed to get much attention
that year, so he repeated the trip in 1899
with the backing of The Plain Dealer and
in the company of Plain Dealer reporter
Charles B. Shanks. The plan this year was that Wake, 56, of Sarasota, Fla., and I would drive an 1899 Winton owned by the Crawford. We would be followed by the museum�s 1907 Winton driven by Crawford curator David Holcombe, |