As it had become apparent that the machine was geared too high for the hills of New York, it seemed better to send it into the shop for such changes as were necessary, rather than spend the time necessary to make them in the one small machine shop at Canandaigua.

Furthermore the Professor’s vacation was drawing to a close; he had given himself not to exceed ten days, eight had elapsed.

“I feel that I have exhausted the possibilities and eccentricities of automobiling; there is nothing more to learn; if there is anything more, I do not care to know it.  I am inclined to accept the experience of last night as a warning; as the fellow who was blown up with dynamite said when he came down, ’to repeat the experiment would be no novelty.’”

And so the machine was loaded on the cars, side-tracked on the way, and it was many a day before another start could be made from Buffalo.

It cannot be too often repeated that it is a mistake to ever lose sight of one’s machine during a tour; it is a mistake to leave it in a machine shop for repairs; it is a mistake to even return it to the place of its creation; for you may be quite sure that things will be left undone that should be done, and things done that should not be done.

It requires days and weeks to become acquainted with all the peculiarities and weaknesses of an automobile, to know its strong points and rely upon them, to appreciate its failings and be tender towards them.  After you have become acquainted, do not risk the friendship by letting the capricious thing out of your sight.  It is so fickle that it forms wanton attachments for every one it meets,—­for urchins, idlers, loafers, mechanics, permits them all sorts of familiarities, so that when, like a truant, it comes wandering back, it is no longer the same, but a new creature, which you must learn again to know.

It is monotonously lonesome running an automobile across country alone; the record-breaker may enjoy it, but the civilized man does not; man is a gregarious animal, especially in his sports; one must have an audience, if an audience of only one.

The return of the Professor made it necessary to find some one else.  There was but one who could go, but she had most emphatically refused; did not care for the dust and dirt, did not care for the curious crowds, did not care to go fast, did not care to go at all.  To overcome these apparently insurmountable objections, a semi-binding pledge was made to not run more than ten or twelve miles per hour, and not more than thirty or forty miles per day,—­promises so obviously impossible of fulfillment on the part of any chauffeur that they were not binding in law.  We started out well within bounds, making but little over forty miles the first day; we wound up with a glorious run of one hundred and forty miles the last day, covering the Old Sarnia gravel out of London, Ontario, at top speed for nearly seventy miles.