“But we’ll make you a good long visit the first of September, before we go back to college,” Bob promised as they mounted the wheels.
“Two hundred miles to go,” Jack cried as they got under way. “We ought to make it by supper time.”
“Either that or jail,” Bob laughed back.
The traffic through Boston was very heavy and, do their best, it was over an hour before they were outside the city limits.
“I’d like to see the cow that laid out the streets of Boston,” Jack declared as he pulled up alongside his brother as the traffic began to thin out. “I’ll bet it was a blind cow or at least one with the blind staggers.”
“The streets aren’t exactly what you’d call straight.”
“Straight! I know my way about fairly well, but honestly all the way through I was expecting to meet myself coming back.”
“Twenty-five miles an hour along here,” Bob shouted about three hours later.
Jack, who was a few yards ahead, slowed down and allowed Bob to pull up beside him.
“What’s the idea?” he asked. “This is a good straight road.”