Cord tires are also worth your while; they not only wear much better, and stand up under heat and sand, but you can safely carry a low tire-pressure. Our car weighed close to five thousand pounds, but we carried only fifty-five to sixty pounds pressure. This makes for comfortable riding, reduces your chances of a broken spring, and eases the pain when bucking the deadly chuck-holes that look so harmless but feel much worse than you anticipate—yes, much worse!
We preferred the gas sold by the service stations of reliable oil companies, and, in the main, found it much better and cheaper than the average garage gas—and, between friends, more accurately measured.
The tire-service stations are provided with handy local maps, and between them and the garages you can get the best information relative to the roads in general, and particularly detours, the motorists’ bugbear. Road conditions often change entirely in a few days, and, outside of guiding you along the main traveled routes, the Blue Book ordinarily is not of much assistance. For setting-up exercises, every morning I tested my tire-pressure, turned down all grease-cups, looked over steering mechanism, rear axle, drive-shaft, brakes and spring shackles, and, as a result, we came through with flying colors, without the slightest accident, and our car runs better now than when we started, 4154 miles away.
It may be of interest to speak further of the gas, for, as an item of expense, and your greatest necessity, you have to consider it. We saw no Socony gas after leaving Chicago; the Red Crown gas had taken its place. There were a dozen other makes—Union, Iroquois, Shell, Associated, etc., ranging in price from twenty to forty cents a gallon. Every town and many grocery-stores on the road could supply you. As our tank held twenty-one gallons, not once did we have to carry extra gas. The longest stretch was seventy miles without gas for sale. Of course, you get less mileage in the high altitudes, and the radiator needs to be filled several times a day.
We carried an extra can of water, with our drinking-bottles filled, through the highest mountain country and in the desert; otherwise, the town pump was easily found. We had four spare shoes, but used only one. Two punctures from New York to California is a record to bring joy to any motor heart. Twice we picked up nails, and once some joker stuck a long pin into a tire. Dr. B., of Bronxville, New York, advised us to have a Yale lock put on either side of the hood of the engine, remarking, “Those rubes in country garages are mighty inquisitive, and have no love for city cars. I have had my carburetor monkeyed with many times.” We took his advice and saved ourselves a lot of trouble. In the East we paid $1.50 for a night’s storage in a garage. Through the West we have paid as low as fifty cents. Our total mileage, the amount of gas and oil used, and the cost of each, with the garage expenses, I will give later.
I must add that, except for cleaning the spark-plugs, we had no engine trouble, and the car arrived in perfectly good shape in California.
VII
THE TWIN CITIES AND TEN THOUSAND LAKES
August 6th and 7th we spent in St. Paul, at the first-class St. Paul Hotel—a perfect joy! Our stay here was filled with interest. The capitol building is a noble pile. Summit Avenue boasts of many beautiful homes, but the business life is fast overtaking it. Minneapolis is such a close neighbor that we could not tell where one city began and the other left off. Here cousins took us to the Athletic Club for lunch, in as beautiful a café as we have seen. A bounteous luncheon was served for sixty cents that we would have paid at least two dollars for in New York. This was our last feast on broiled whitefish. As we were all chatting over our trip, a crash as of broken china brought us to a pause. “What in Heaven’s name is that?” we exclaimed. “Oh, just the boys in the ‘training’ café, having a hurry-up lunch,” laughed our host. On the many floors men were spending their noon-hour exercising and keeping themselves fit.
We drove out to the famous summer resort, Lake Minnetonka, picturesque and edged with lovely summer homes. Near by were the Minnehaha Falls, known to all Longfellow lovers, and the Fort Snelling reservation, where the sturdy pioneers defended their lives in the old round tower and block-house. By far the most attractive spot we visited was Christmas Lake, seventeen miles out of town, where the Radisson Inn nestles in the woods, quite hidden from the highway. No private villa could be more lovely. In the large dining-room, which was really a sun-parlor, each table had its own color-scheme, with vines and wild flowers. Plants, ferns, vines, and flowers growing everywhere in the most original baskets and boxes made of twigs, bark, or moss. We all stood exclaiming, like a lot of children, “Isn’t it adorable?”—“Oh, my dear, do look at this Indian rug!”—“Where did they get this willow furniture?”—“Altman never had such exquisite cretonnes!”—“Let’s give up the trip and stop here!”—and so on. We were told that the table was in keeping with the house, and that the place was full all season. This was another high spot on the trip.
Still another pleasure was in store for us—we were to play golf and dine at the Town and City Club. The club is situated between the two cities, near the banks of the Mississippi River. We drove past before we realized that it was not a private estate. Stopping a young man, we asked where the club was. “Got me stuck, Missis; never heard of it.” A small boy of seven came up, and, with a withering glance which took us all in, waved his arm, saying, “Right before your eyes!” We drove through lovely grounds to the club-house. Such gorgeous old trees!—hedges that made you think of Devonshire, lawns like velvet, and a riot of color in the beds and borders—every flowering shrub and plant you could dream of. Of course, the links were fine, and the twilight lasted until nearly nine o’clock. We had ordered dinner in advance; so by a quarter to nine we were seated at our table, with faultless appointments, enjoying such a good dinner, and watching the sky-line of Minneapolis, with its church spires and towering buildings, fade in the afterglow of the sunset. Not one of us spoke as the twilight deepened and the stars came out; we went out on the lawn and saw the new harvest moon through the trees—a bit of Nature’s fairyland, the memory of which will always stay with us.