Again and again it seemed as if the motor would stop; several times it was necessary to throw out the clutch, let the motor race, and then throw in the clutch to get the benefit of both the motor and the momentum of the two-hundred pound fly-wheel; it was a strain on the chain and gears, but they held, and the machine would be carried forward ten or twelve feet by the impetus; in that way the worst spots were passed.
Towards Utica the roads were better, though we nearly came to grief in a low place just outside the city.
It required all Wednesday morning to clean and overhaul the machine.

Every crevice was filled with mud, and grit had worked into the chain and every exposed part.

There was also some lost motion to be taken up to stop a disagreeable pounding.

The strain on the new chain had stretched it so a link had to be taken out.
It was two o'clock before we left Utica.

A little beyond the outskirts of the city the road forks, the right is the road to Syracuse, and it is gravelled most of the way.