Todd after the practice hour for a spin around the park. At
those times I came to learn that the collision I had had with a
trolley-car before Todd bought me had not left me with any
constitutional defect. I still had power under my hood, and speed in
my wheels. But what good were power and speed to me now? I doubted
that Todd would ever push me beyond a crawl.
Yet I had hope, for when his relaxation from the tension of a lesson
had loosened his tongue he would chatter to Willie about
self-confidence.
"Some day you say, I shall be able to drive without thinking?"
"Sure! You won't have to use your bean any more'n when you walk."
At nights, when no one knew, Mr. Todd would steal into the barn and,
after performing the motions of winding me up, would sit at the
wheel and make believe to drive.
"I advance the spark," he would mutter, "I release the brake, I set
the gear, and ever so gently I let in the clutch. Ha! We move, we
are off! As we gather speed I pull the gear-lever back, then over,
then forward. Now, was that right? At any rate we are going north,
let us say, in Witherspoon Street. I observe a limousine approaching
from the east in a course perpendicular to mine. It has the right of
way, Willie says, so I slip the clutch out, at the same time
checking the flow of gasoline.
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