Summer Days on the Highway 
By a. B. rUCKER 
T he lure of the road is strong during these days 
of laziness. The touring car and the more 
sociable runabout have their real place in 
the economy of life now more than ever. The taxi¬ 
cab is forgotten; the limousine is uncomfortable. 
Ehe open motor car invites to fly over the road and 
enjoy the country. I'he dealers tell you that there 
are nine or at least eight months of “touring weather” 
whatever that may signify. Possibly it is true that 
there are so many months in which touring is pos¬ 
sible with comfort. But the time for which the 
touring car or runabout was made is in the dog days. 
Then it becomes almost a necessity. Close observ¬ 
ing motorists claim to have discovered, by carrying 
thermometers on their cars, that it is always at least 
four degrees colder m the moving tonneau than when 
the car is standing still. 
It Is probable that the cooling effects have much 
to do with the delights of hot-weather motoring. 
And when, with the moving air, comes the eternal 
smell of the wide land, the inspiring and lung-ex- 
pandmg freshness of a season which is giving or has 
given of its harvests and has gotten in the habit of 
being fresh and pungent and aromatic, we are forced 
to recognize that it is the time of all times when men 
should motor. But the natural logic of the situation 
goes even deeper than this. It has to do with 
country inns and clubs and other objective tempta¬ 
tions which bloom only after the roses. There is 
community of interest too; the other fellow motors, 
so why not we 
Method in this form of midsummer madness is 
discountenanced. I'he best trips are those planned 
over-mght or at least over-week. The run which is 
within reach of home if a persistent rain should 
prevail has ever “the call.” He that taketh his 
motoring too seriously shall fall foul of the con¬ 
stable. 
But to howl along with the motor humming and the 
hedges sidling by with no attempt at a record or an 
endurance run; to watch the dogs lazily rise and 
meander from the roadside dust-heap to the calm 
security of the door-yard; to see the red-cheeked 
country children peer down out of the apple-trees; 
to watch the cattle at the brook’s edge slowly turn 
their cud-chewing faces toward the road; to watch 
the golden-rod beside the highway bend to the 
suction which follows the car; dreamy-eyed to drift 
past all these homely sights and without harrowing 
sensation to hear the homely sounds of hillside, barn¬ 
yard, water-mill and winnowing-floor;—these are the 
real delights of summer motoring. 
What matter if the slanting sun forces its rays 
under veil and visor. The summer’s heat is toned 
by the breeze and mellowed by the deep green of the 
trees, dotted here and there with the red sumac. 
The droning, sensuous pleasure wears the afternoon 
away. Even it compensates for the dust, the goggles 
which chafe the brows and the occasional stop to 
dally with the perforated tire. These are only the 
incidents which punctuate the peace—the dash of 
condiment which seasons the dish. 
Health, peace, happiness, rest, care-forgetting, the 
realization of the beautiful present, the loss of the 
regretful past, the recklessness with regard to the 
fretful future,—all make for the well-being of the mid¬ 
summer motorist. This is atitomobiling in its most 
helpful and most beneficial phase. The unlearned 
wonder what the motorist finds to rave about. They 
have never tried the balm of the August ride. 
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