Poems (Freston)/The Motor Feminine

by Elizabeth Heléne Freston

THE MOTOR FEMININE

With a whiz and a whir and a merry "honk,"
The motor car whirled up to the door,
To carry away, on pleasure bent,
In motor array, a party of four.
'Twas a summer day in the end of June,
When green fields beckoned us from afar,
And we turned from the city's sultry noon,
To the air-swept dash of the willing car.

The girl in the crimson motor cap,
Leaned tenderly over the dark green side,
And said, as she patted the panting thing,—
In a voice as soft as a loving bride,—
"Now, REO, be a good girl to-day,
And save your moods for another time!
If you carry us safely on our way.
We'll sing your praises in prose and rhyme;

And give you nice gasoline to drink,
And in every way treat you as best we can!
So be a good girl!" A saucy "Honk!"
A whiz and a whirl and away she ran.
In and out through the city streets,
Over the river and far away,—
Into the country's Wonderland,—
'Neath the cloudless sky of a summer day!

Merriment perched on the steering bar,
And care was left at the starting post;
And our REO ran on so valiantly,
That her owner chauffeur began to boast
About all the wonders she yet would do,
'Neath the master touch of his guiding hand,—
The races she'd run and the trips she would take
And the record she'd make were all quickly planned.

The fields of daisies and waving corn
And cattle grazing in pastures green,—
Lifting grave eyes and bending horn,—
Flashed by ere the picture was fairly seen.
Past quiet hamlets and groups of trees,
Through the sun and shade of a perfect day,
With hearts as light as the summer breeze,
That fanned our faces, we sped away.

The winding, ribbon-like, red-brown road,—
Men's hands flung down to meet man's need,—
Seemed to our fancy to flow behind,
With a mountain torrent reckless speed.
It ran to meet us over the hill,
Directly out of the cloudless sky,
Till we reached the summit, then valleys fair,
In all their beauty went flashing by.

I think 'twas the girl with the crimson cap,
And white veil floating upon the air,—
Breathing a sigh of supreme content,—
Expressed her belief that heaven was fair;
But with such a dutiful motor car,
And the one she loved as acting chauffeur,
A run o'er the beautiful Jersey lands,
Was quite enough of heaven for her.

A sudden curve in the winding road,
And we turned away from the west, to run
Where the musical Raritan river flowed,—
Its wavelets kissed by the setting sun.
Rippling and dimpling and dancing along,
Between the verdure of shore and shore,
She murmured softly sweet Nature's song,
As we ran by her side for a mile or more.

The sun went down in its crimson and gold,
That faded slowly and drifted away,
As the twilight hour, with her manifold
Fancies, shook out her mantle of gray.
The moon crept up,—a red, red moon!
Over the tops of the distant trees
She slowly peeped from behind their shade,
As they gently swayed in the evening breeze.

As she came in view, 'twas a strange, weird scene,—
A blood-red moon on a lead-blue sky,—
We laughed that Dame Nature's color scheme
Was enough to make any artist cry.
Said our hostess dear, with a pretty pout,
"If I had painted a scene so quaint,
They'd tell me I'd better go back to school,
And stay there until I had learned to paint.

But another sweep of her magic brush,
And the crudeness turned into harmony,
And the silvery night to each heart said "Hush!
And welcome the joy I shall bring to thee!"
The stars crept out of the Far Away,
Where they dwell in a land of mystery.
"And they say that heaven is fair," I said,
"But this world has beauty enough for me."

We looked for the man in the moon and found
Not him alone, but his sweetheart, too,
Kissing him on the lips! Is there aught
In the world that fancy,—unchained,—can't do?
The night had come and we owned with a sigh
Of regret, that a flawless day was passed;
For we knew by the odors of laurel and pine,
That our halting place—Lakewood—was reached at last.

Hungry and thirsty and happily tired,
We daintily dined at the Burnett Inn,
And slept the sweet dreamless sleep of those
Whose hearts are not burdened with sorrow or sin.
The morning dawned with a face so fair,
That she promised another perfect day;
So out through the dew-washed, sunlit air,
As gay as the morning, we started away.

But when we came to the Laurel and Pine,
We stopped for a time to admire the view,
And, after admiring, we fain would go on,
But, alas! 'twas for REO to say what she'd do!
And she did a number of wonderful things,—
She kicked and snorted and tried to go
Every way but the way we wanted her to,
So back to the garage she had to go.

For two long hours at the lake we sat,
And watched and waited our host to see;
We grew tired of picking the flowers, and I own
The beauty of scenery palled on me.
At last came the sound of a distant horn,
And we hailed with rapture the smiling face,
Of our charming host, as the chastened car
Came whirling up to our resting place."

'Twas a bolt that had gotten on upside down."
"Oh, was that all?" "It was quite enough,
When it took two hours to find it out!"
"That machinician must be a muff!"
Then away through the sunlit, summery weather!
While merriment perched on the steering bar;
Four care-free hearts all beating together
To the chug, chug, chug of the motor car!

We filled the car with the laurel blossoms,
And sat ensconced in a nest of bloom,
And stopped to gather them here and there,—
For one more bunch there was always room.
Twas bounteous nature over again,
With variations of yesterday;
But as we came near the Jersey Coast,
We could smell the breath of the salt sea spray.

We almost shouted aloud with joy,
When we whirled in sight of the ocean gray,
And as we flew along by her side,
We laughed at the tumbling breakers' play.
Of a sudden the sky grew dark and grim,
And the thunder muttered from far away,
And the lightning flashed with a wrathful gleam,
And changed indeed was the face of day.

"We must race the storm," said our host, "for we
Have promised to lunch at Pleasure Bay.
'Twill come in a perfect downpour, I know,
And a shelter is many miles away.
So hold your breath for a dash," he laughed,
"And say your prayers, if you fear to die!
For if anything happens from here to there,
We'll—simply wake in eternity."

The lightning flashed and the thunder roared,
And daylight was turned to ominous gray;
And through the uproar of sea and sky,
With the rush of an eagle we sped away.
I felt as I might when the hounds give cry,
And I, on a sturdy hunter's back,
Not knowing the dangers that lie in my way,
Rush recklessly after the baying pack.

Oh, the blood was stirred, and the heart beat high!
And the breath came quick in that headlong race!
Who cared if Death should be standing by?
We'd fling him a jest and laugh in his face!
Too soon 'twas o'er and the shelter gained,
Just as the rain came pouring down;
And a happier, merrier, hungrier four,
Ne'er smiled in the shadow of Nature's frown.

Out on the porch was the table set,
With the best the larder could furnish there,
And the clatter of dishes and clink of glass,
Faintly echoed the riot aloft in the air.
But a bolt shot forth from the grim, dun sky,
And burst in our midst, with a grand acclaim,
As it tore the limbs from a tree near by,
And set a bit of the roof aflame.

When my sight and my wits came creeping back,
From the land of danger and wild alarm,
The girl with the crimson motor cap,
Was solemnly rubbing one darkened arm.
And said she was struck right there, but soon
Some water washed all the black away:
The men gathered round her, fearing she'd swoon,
All ready to kneel at her feet and pray.

The storm soon passed and we started home,
With glowing praise for our motor car;
But like many a feminine, flattered too much,
She proved her perversity ere we'd gone far.
In a nice, big mud puddle, soft and wet,
Our REO sat down to admire the view;
She was just like a naughty child in a pet,
And would do not a thing that we wished her to do.

Her good, patient master circled about,
With a glance inside and a magic pat
Here and there, then a moment of troubled doubt,
And now it was this tool and now it was that.
Then some gasoline was poured somewhere inside,
And a bolt unscrewed and a great noise made,
And some dark blue grease was—somewhere applied,
And some coaxing more, but she still delayed.

It was raining hard, and our handsome host,—
So pick and span at the starting hour,
That indeed we had been inclined to boast
Of the style of our millionaire chauffeur,—
Was a sight to behold! his cap flung by
And his hair, all rumpled and wet with rain,
Hung in straight, blond strands over either eye,
And his hands!—would they ever be clean again?

His stunning, cream linen motor coat,—
All streaked with grease and all muddy and murk,—
Had its long, limp tails tied up in a knot,
And he looked like a tramp who was made to work.
"There should be an apron on here," he said,
'The automobile objects to the wet."
Then somebody almost bit off his head,
For being so heedless as to forget.

"If I should ever come out again,
Though every one else in the world forgets,
I'll remind you to bring an apron along,—
A petticoat, too, and perhaps pantalets."
I watched a little brooklet of rain
Drop down on the seat by the Golden Haired,
And soon she began to softly complain,
And wonder how far toward home we had fared.

"I am wet and tired and I want to go home!
Cant you do something to make her go?
I don't see why people care so much
For automobiling! I don't I know."
Everyone scolded and frowned and fumed,
But the one who had all the hard work to do;
I am sure he earned a halo and wings!
When he gets to heaven he'll have them, too.

Well we'd go awhile, when something inside
Would stoop to the puddle and take a drink,
Then suddenly come to a halt again,
While REO sat down in the mud to think.
Once, while her mood was a pleasant one,
And she was moving along at her best,
We saw on the top of a telegraph pole,
The wonderful sight of an eagle's nest.

He was a widower bird I guess,
For we saw not another feather move;
Frail, fickle mankind might learn of him,
For the eagle is known to have only one love.
With head aside, o'er the nest's soft edge
He viewed the world from his place on high,
We shouted and called till with wings outflung,
He sailed away toward the frowning sky.

Oh, wonder of birds! his long gray wings,
With their graceful sweep, flinging back the air,
Appeared like the rymic flutterings
Of a sail boat flying o'er sea as fair.
Ah, well! why dwell on that homeward trip?—
Though REO dwelt more than we liked to see,—
She did everything bad a motor could do,—
She even attempted to climb a tree.

Within three miles of Plainfield town,
She took a notion to burst a tire;
We all helped in any way we could,
Standing around in the rain and mire.
We crawled through the city's lighted streets,
And reached, with delight, the glad garage;
And turned her over, with sighs of relief.
To the man who takes such things in charge.

'Twas long past the hour when people dine,
And we looked in vain for a table d'hote.
We dined on coffee of wonderful make,
And sandwiches old enough to vote.
Then hie for the train and old New York!
With resolutions many and strong
To never again!—but never mind!
We were tired just then, and the way was long.

Oh, home at last! Oh, sweet, sweet home!—
As the midnight bells tolled off the hours,
With perished gloves and veils and hats,
And tempers soured and some faded flowers.
But the girl in the crimson cap and I
Compared our notes over dê jeuner
And decided the pleasure of motoring
Was worth any price one had to pay.