In Remembrance of You
Page 8
The downhill road from Elk Mountain had a lot of deep ruts. There were places where the Olds’ axles dragged and got caught. We had to fill in the deepest ruts in order to keep moving. It was a bumpy ride.
A hundred feet from the hotel in Medicine Bow, something snapped. The front truss rod broke. Sand, rocks, and sagebrush had certainly taken their toll on our machine.
Wednesday August 5
Whit’s diary
After fixing the truss rod, we left Medicine Bow at 8:15 a.m.
Very rough roads till within 25 miles of Laramie.
Small rocks for miles on the prairie near hills. They cut the tires some and bruised the rims.
We got in to Laramie at 5:30 p.m. This is a good town.
We met a representative of Oldsmobile from Denver as soon as we got in.
We found by people at Rockydale that Dr. Jackson with Winton was stuck 16 times. Mud then; not now. 65 miles today.
I repaired the broken truss rod. We found gasoline at fifty cents per gallon and pulled out of Medicine Bow. It seemed like everyone turned out to watch us go down a very steep hill on the edge of town. We made it by the skin of our teeth by carefully using the foot brake and first gear for compression braking. Deed done, we turned around and waved goodbye to our audience. Wish we could have charged admission!
We had the hotel cook in Medicine Bow make sandwiches for us. By noon, we came to a ranch house. The lady there fixed meals for travelers, so we decided to eat freshly cooked food instead.
We saw cattle today, some standing in the middle of the road, but they scrambled to get away after hearing the sound of our engine and bulb horn. There were sage hens in flocks and prairie dogs in abundance.
As we rolled into Laramie, Wyoming, leaving the old Pony Express trail behind us, we saw our fourth horseless carriage since leaving San Francisco. By coincidence, it was another Curved Dash Olds. When the driver saw us, we couldn’t keep those machines from coming together and rubbing noses!
The driver was E. Linn Mathewson, a sales representative and manager of the Oldsmobile agency in Denver. He had been in town for a day. He was out scouting for sales while waiting to meet up with us.
Mathewson’s rig was exactly the same model as ours except it leaped around so friskily! I asked him what he did to his engine. He winked and said, “We put in larger valves. This is our demonstrator. Come on down to Denver, and we’ll fix your rig up the same way.”
During supper at Custer’s Hotel, we told Mathewson that we’d see him in Denver as fast as we could get there. It would be 100 miles out of our way, but a little more pep for our engine appealed to us since we were not yet halfway to New York. Gosh, this might mean we could get there faster. We figured we were about 1,475 miles from San Francisco.
Thursday August 6
Whit’s diary
Left Laramie at 8:30 am. and made up our minds to go to Denver, Colorado as E. Linn Mathewson, manager of the Oldsmobile branch there, wanted us and we wanted to do some tinkering to see if we could make the machine have more speed and power.
We had to buck a very heavy head wind 25 miles out of Laramie over the prairie. There we were up in the mountains.
We crossed the summit amid low flying clouds and mist. The rocky scenery was fine—sharp, pointed hills, boulders piled in all shapes and washed into pillars and castles. Then, lots of down grades—we flew.
Dinner at Forks Hotel and reached Fort Collins about 6 p.m.
We got gas and water in machine for an early start for Denver in the morning. Body bolt came out today and found we had cracked the panel on one side. Not bad, but it could be seen.
Once today, when we stopped to oil, I lay down on the grass while Hammond did the work and fell asleep. I was so sleepy I slept 10 minutes and was refreshed. Prairie dogs thick. Saw crows for first time.
Last night, Whit and I had a much needed haircut and shave. We decided to bypass Cheyenne and head for Denver, Colorado, instead. In the meantime, Mathewson delivered his Olds demonstrator and took the train back to Denver. We suspected that he planned to tell the newspapers about our expected arrival and alert the mechanics in his shop that we were on the way.
Soon we were up in the mountains, crossing the summit in a cool mist, quite a contrast to the dry desert!
We flew along downhill at a pretty fast clip. Suddenly, we were thrown out of the Olds as it came to an abrupt standstill. Luckily, we both fell on soft ground. I picked myself up and chased our right front wheel as it rolled down the hill. If we ever give up driving, we could have our own vaudeville act! We knew at once that the front wheel spindle crystallized and broke. Luck was with us. We had a spare spindle in the luggage box and were soon on our way, with only a couple of bruises.
When we took a break, Whit lay down in the grass to relax while I added oil to the engine. I really didn’t mind. As the mechanic on this trip, this was my job. Whit’s job was to navigate—although I helped when I could, thanks to my secret source.
We noticed a crack on the side panel of the wooden body when we pulled off for dinner at the Forks Hotel. The crack probably happened when the wheel came off. We decided to deal with it later.
We shut off the engine this evening in Fort Collins, Colorado. There were lots of shade trees, a welcome sight after days on the open prairie.
Colorado—A Parade into Denver
Friday August 7
Whit’s diary
Fort Collins to Denver—80 miles. Arrived 3:30 p.m.
Five miles out of Fort Collins we found mud and for 25 miles the road was bad.
E. Linn Mathewson proceeded to fix machine.
George Hannan is agent for Oldsmobile, 1455 California Street, Denver, Colorado.
We made an early start out of Fort Collins. We planned to follow the Colorado and Southern Railroad by way of Loveland, Longmont, Boulder, and Broomfield. We went only a few miles when our road turned into a sea of mud. A recent cloudburst with hail caused flooding high enough to wash out bridges. For the next 25 miles we were mired in mud. Our rear wheels spun as if in tubs of lard! Both of us took off our shoes and stockings, rolled up our trousers, and waded knee-deep in water and mud to push the machine to higher ground. For a time, we wondered if we would ever make it to Denver.
Judge Mills, a Curved Dash Olds owner in Fort Collins, had drawn a map last night. It was a great help to get us to Denver.
Finally, we were on the outskirts of Denver. An escort of motor cars waited for us, and we formed a parade to enter the city. E. Linn Mathewson led the caravan, with drivers and passengers honking bulb horns, shouting, and waving. I really got a kick out of all the hubbub and waved at all the ladies. Whit enjoyed it, too, but put on his “I’ve got things under control” face. We made our way to the George Hannan Oldsmobile Agency. There, newspaper reporters and photographers interviewed us. The next day, headlines and a picture of us with the Olds were on the front page. We thought we answered all their questions, but the reporters called it a “steam wagon!” They must have seen the steam coming off our overheated gas engine.
Saturday August 8
Whit’s diary
We worked on machine.
I wrote to the magazines sending pictures.
At 8 p.m. the machine was ready. Mathewson had taken our engine head and put in bigger valves—had it bored out—also made higher exhaust lift on cam.
While I worked with the mechanics at Hannan’s shop, Whit remained at the hotel, writing to the auto magazines and enclosing photos they had requested. Mathewson had supervised the removal of the cylinder head from the engine, had the valve seats enlarged, and put in bigger valves. He also put in a higher exhaust valve lift on the cam. Whit was skeptical of the results, but we found it a big improvement after a test drive this evening.
Sunday August 9
Whit’s diary
Left Denver at 11 a.m.
Hannan took us outside the city and put us on the right road.
We ran 92 miles before sunset to Orcha
rd, Colorado.
The machine was 100% better.
Roads good. Last 10 miles more sand.
Stopped at a little house over night but had chicken and ice cream. We are now out on the level prairie.
Whit and I slept in this morning, although the Olds was repaired and ready to go. There were more than a few toasts of champagne last night dedicated to the ultimate success of our coast-to-coast trek. Mathewson and his group hosted the party. We were mighty late to bed!
It was almost noon before we left Denver. George Hannan, driving a Curved Dash Olds, went on ahead to put us on the right road. The machine was running like it never ran before, after its secret surgery behind closed doors. To quote Mathewson last night, “She runs like a scared bitch!”
It was downhill and a good road most of the afternoon. We followed alongside the Union Pacific, via LaSalle and Kersey, to the South Platte River. The last 10 miles to Orchard, Colorado were over deep sand. At one place we removed the luggage box and put on the sand tires.
Shortly after we took off the sand tires, I was surprised by—and killed—another rattlesnake. I could be in a Wild West Show if I ever got tired of being a mechanic!
We stopped at a small boarding house in Orchard. For supper, we had chicken and, of all things, ice cream. What a treat!
Monday August 10
Whit’s diary
Left Orchard at 6:15 p.m.
Dinner at Sterling.
Supper and stopped for the night at Julesburg. Day’s run—141 miles. Best run so far. Good roads. Engine ran nice.
Gasoline pipe connections broke, and we put in new one.
Body rubber hanger busted and put in new one.
Starting chain came apart and we riveted it together.
An hour or so out of Orchard, we stopped at a farm to inquire the way. The lady of the house, frightened of our machine, grabbed her baby who was playing in the yard. She then fled into the house. After she caught her breath and calmed down, she stood at the doorway and gave us good directions.
For the first time since leaving San Francisco, we had good, dry dirt roads all the way to Julesburg, Colorado.
Then our problems started. The gasoline pipe connection to the mixer broke. Then, a rubber body hanger busted. Luckily we had replacements for both with us. Then, after dinner at Sterling, the starting crank chain broke. We had to rivet it back together before we could crank up.
We had supper, and at sundown, we stopped at Julesburg for the night. We broke our own record, even with the small repairs. We made 141 miles today!
Nebraska—Muddy, But Half Way to New York
Tuesday August 11
Whit’s diary
We left Julesburg at 8 a.m.
Ran to Paxton, Nebraska.
Roads muddy from recent rains. Rear wheels slipped a good deal and stuck in mud several times.
50 miles—our day’s run.
Got into Paxton at 5:30 p.m.
Gasoline about used up on account of slow running.
Engine pounded. We tried to stop it; found whole engine loose and tightened it at Paxton. Inlet valve needed fixing so would seat.
This automobiling in mud is cussed. Rain again tonight. About sick but had a good night’s sleep.
We had gone only a short distance outside of Julesburg before encountering mud, mud, and more mud. Our rear wheels began to slip and slide. Soon we were deeply mired in a mud hole. We hailed a man on horseback to pull us out with our towrope. Sand tires were no help in this situation. Winding sections of rope around the rear tires seemed to give us more traction.
In the lowlands along the Platte River, the tops of fence posts were sticking out of the muddied water. They were the only indication that our submerged road was still there! Our gasoline was about used up from overworking the engine at slow speed through the molasses mud. The engine began to make a pounding noise.
We found the engine had come loose when we finally made it to Paxton. The pounding stopped when we tightened it back down. I also fixed the inlet valve so it would seat properly. We were both tired when we finally got to Paxton.
Note from Granddaughter’s letter:
You will drive right by Buffalo Bill Cody’s ranch. Be sure you take time to visit it.
My granddaughter has become a sightseeing guide. Bet she could sell Wild West Show tickets, too.
Wednesday August 12
Whit’s diary
Left Paxton at 10 a.m.
Roads muddy.
Then, in afternoon, made ranch near Brady. Total—35 miles.
Was stuck in mud lots of times.
At North Platte at 5 p.m. Arrived Rand at 8:30 p.m.
This slippery mud and deep slews is very tough. We had shoes and stockings off to push through.
The roads were very muddy outside of Paxton. I couldn’t help but think of the old expression, “You old stick-in-the-mud.” For us, it was “stuck in the mud.”
On the way in to North Platte, Nebraska, we took my granddaughter’s suggestion and stopped at Colonel William F. Cody’s Ranch. Cody was not there, but the caretaker invited us in and showed us around. He proudly described Cody as a Pony Express rider, wagon master, hunter, guide, stagecoach driver, scout, and Indian fighter. We also learned that Buffalo Bill got his title for shooting hundreds of wild buffalo to supply meat for the builders of the Union Pacific Railroad.
The caretaker gave us each a small Indian fetish charm for good luck on our trip. I put mine, a bluebird, in the empty watchcase for my granddaughter so she would know we stopped at the ranch.
We did manage to pass through the town of North Platte. The slippery mud made very tough driving. We had our shoes and stockings off to push the CDO. That saved our shoes, but how were we to wash the mud off our feet?
We arrived at a ranch near Brady, Nebraska, late in the evening and stayed there overnight.
Thursday August 13
Whit’s diary
Left at 9 a.m. in fog. Ran to Gothenburg—15 miles in morning. In afternoon ran to Cozad—15 miles.
Mud deep same as before.
It was foggy when we left Brady for Gothenburg. In the afternoon we ran to Cozad. Darn if we didn’t muck our way through the same kind of deep mud we had yesterday. It seems there’s nothing but rain, flood, and more mud! We made little progress.
Friday August 14
Whit’s diary
Stayed at Cozad all day for mud to dry but at 6 p.m. a terrible shower and lightning struck.
Wired to Olds—mud bound.
Stayed at Cozad two days. Rain each night.
We spent a boring day in Cozad. It just poured all day. The country around us was a lake of water and mud, and teams were stuck in many places. We could not proceed, so Whit wired Olds that we were mud-bound. It rained last night and again tonight. I’m not sure whether we’ll be able to move on tomorrow.
Saturday August 15
Whit’s diary
Left Cozad at 3 p.m.
Hired team took us over the river across severe deep mud holes.
We then ran 25 miles to Elwood on higher ground to South Platte River.
We did not think we could ever get down the Platte to Omaha so we took to the rolling hills.
We had to wait until 3:00 in the afternoon before leaving Cozad. We hired a teamster to load the Runabout onto his wagon and cart us across the Platte to higher ground. The water was up to his horses’ bellies!
After the teamster left us, we were still confounded by the mud holes, so we took to the rolling hills. Still there was mud. We relied on passing farmers, who tied our towrope to their wagons and yanked us out.
Darn, it was a devil of a mess. In the desert we could at least dig out and make some progress. The more we tried to get out of the muck under power, the deeper the machine sank. At sundown, we finally reached the little town of Elwood.
I pulled out the letter and the notes from my granddaughter. Would she suggest “You might pack an umbrella?” Or just come right out
and say, “Buy a boat!”
Note from Granddaughter’s letter:
Look for the funny scarecrows scattered along the way to Omaha.
Sunday August 16