[Two Thousand Miles On An Automobile by Arthur Jerome Eddy]@TWC D-Link book
Two Thousand Miles On An Automobile

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN NEW YORK TO BUFFALO
13/17

The fault may be altogether on the side of the inexperienced or careless driver, but none the less the driver of the automobile feels in a certain sense that he has been the immediate cause, and it is impossible to describe the feeling of relief one experiences when it turns out that no one is injured.
A machine could seldom meet a worse combination than a fairly spirited horse, a nervous woman, and a large basket of eggs.

With housewifely instincts, the woman was sure to think first of the eggs.
We stopped at Batavia for dinner, and made the run into Buffalo in exactly two hours, arriving at four o'clock.
We ran the machine to the same station, and found unoccupied the same rooms we had left four weeks and two days before.

It seemed an age since that Wednesday, August 24, when we started out, so much had transpired, every hour had been so eventful.

Measured by the new things we had seen and the strange things that had happened, the interval was months not weeks.
A man need not go beyond his doorstep to find a new world; his own country, however small, is a universe that can never be fully explored.

And yet such is the perversity of human nature that we know all countries better than our own; we travel everywhere except at home.


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