Kankakee Valley Post, Volume 3, Number 5, DeMotte, Jasper County, 15 June 1933 — THE FABLE OF STEPPING ON IT [ARTICLE]

THE FABLE OF STEPPING ON IT

By GEORGE ADE

©, Bell Syndicate.--WNU Service.

ONCE there was a Group of Pleasure-Seekers packed into a Motor Car. They were out for Relaxation and they were going to find it by whizzing to a Point 300 Miles distant and then turning around and beating it back Home. Notwithstanding which, it is said that People live longer than they used to live. There were two Captains on Board. One was the high-priced Lad at the Wheel, who thought that every stretch of Good Road was part of the Indianapolis Speedway. The other Mrs. Henry Gibble, whose Husband had paid for the Car just twice what a dandy Queen Anne Cottage would have cost before Lumber went up. Mr. Gibble thought he was the Captain but he was only the Cabin Boy. They wouldn’t even let him hold the Road Map. The others who had embarked were three in Number, as follows: Estelle, only daughter of the Gibbles, who held the World’s Record for Nose-Dabbing--475 times in one Day. Herbert Poindexter, supposed to be almost engaged to Estelle because he looked Aristocratic and was a heavenly Hoofer, even if he was on Salary. Miss Leonora Peevy, unmarried sister of Mrs. Gibble--a Positive Character who held back nothing except her True Age. That made six in All and any good Mind-Reader might have discovered that no two of them were agreed on anything--not even Evolution. For instance the Chauf felt that when he was doing less than 95 he was chilling his Tires. Confidence and Ignorance. Estelle always said that 80 miles an Hour was a reasonable Clip. Mr. Poindexter said that when he traveled above 60 he could feel his Brain Substance turning to Jell. As for Mrs. G. she couldn’t see any sense in doing more than 50 because her Heart had not been the same since she carried on her long but victorious Fight for the reorganization of the Woman’s Club. Mr. Gibble would have stayed around 40 all the time if he had been permitted to give Directions, which he was not. Miss Peevy had read a great deal about Motor Accidents. Every time she crawled into a high-powered Hur-ry-Up, she expected to be killed before she got back. Up to the present time she had been disappointed but, just the same, she allowed that all those who exceeded 30 were taking their Lives into their own Hands and, as for her, it made her feel as if she were continuing on her Way while the Stummick was loitering some. Six Feet in the Rear. The Law said that any one who traveled along at better than 25 Miles could be yanked up and tried. Through the Towns the Limit was 8 Miles an Hour. A man on Crutches can do 8 Miles an Hour. Be that as it may, the Gibbles and their two Victims got away at 9:05, which was almost on Schedule. The Starting Time had been set for 7:03, so that they could get to Bald Rock in time Noonday Luncheon. It seemed that Estelle had some Trouble getting her Eye-Brows to match and Mr; Poindexter sat for an Hour, in a Brown Study, looking at his Collection of Ties and trying to make a Selection. The one that he finally decided upon didn’t look as if Anybody had spent an Hour in picking it out. After the Old Folks had sat in the Car, silent and- motionless, for what seemed to be a Couple of Days, taking the Morning Sun in the Eyes, the two jovial Juveniles appeared and hoped that they hadn't kept anyone waiting. How lucky it is that Looks cannot kill! It was a Hot Morning but, as an extra Precaution, five of the six Tourists had their Feet snugly covered with Suit Cases. Just as they crossed the Town Limits and passed into the Agricultural District, Mrs. G. asked, in a Tone suggesting that she wanted either Information or an Argument. “Well, what Root are we going to take?” Mr. Gibble crossed his Fingers and looked at the Road ahead. He had learned his Lesson on previous Outings. He knew that any poor Goofus who takes the Responsibility upon himself and guarantees any particular Plan of Action is thereafter blamed for every Pebble in the Road, for Engine Trouble, Delays at Railway Crossings and Red Ants in the Sandwiches. He knew, also, that the Good Woman never asked for advice except when she wanted to hang a Jinx onto the Party of the Second Part. Mr. Poindexter, bursting with Confidence and Ignorance, said that he had heard, somewhere, that by bearing over toward Mutchburg and following the River Road through Ransom and Wems, you would come out on State Road 23 and get a direct Shoot to Bald Rock; where they would have Luncheon, if any one would be speaking to any one else by that time. A Sad Meal. We will always insist that Mr. Poindexter had no way of knowing about the New Stone between Jericho and Whiffingdale or the Detour made nec-

essary by the Bridge being out between Milton’s Grove and Sassafras Ridge. At the very Moment when they should have been unpacking the Luncheon Basket under the trees at Bald Rock, while merry Laughter echoed through the Glen and goodnatured Quips leaped from Lip to Lip they Were, as Mr. Gibble afterward described it, hellwards between Fronceville and Sackett’s Corners, on a Dirt Road that hadn’t seen a Scraper since the Civil War. As far as the Eye could reach there was a verdant Expanse of Bullrushes. For the first time in months the Car was obeying the Law. It was doing less than 25. It came out, while they were Exploring, that Mrs. Gibble had wanted to go via Milford, but Mr. Poindexter had talked her out of it. As for Mr. Poindexter, he kept repeating over and over, “They told me this was the best Way to come,” which, under the Circumstances, was just the same as no Conversation at all. If the Noonday Luncheon served promptly at 3 p. m. carried the general Gloom of a child’s funeral it was because Mr. and Mrs. Gibble and Miss Peevy could not find time to say a Word. They were too busy hoping that Estelle would never marry Mr. Poindexter. Everything Fell Flat--Even a Tire. It is said that the Trans-Siberian Railway, running half way around the Globe from Kowchuck to Vladivosizovith is the longest straight-away Road in the World, but the Gibble tion, in proceeding from Bald Mountain to Lake Wahaha, where they purposed spending the night at a wellknown Resort Hotel which serves everything fresh from the Can, got on a plainly marked Highway and remained there for Weeks and Weeks. Mr. Gibble will always insist that he wrote for Reservations and he thinks that he mailed the Letter. Nevertheless when the travel-stained and red-eyed Outcasts found themselves grouped in the Hotel Office, like a Huddle of Lithuanian Immigrants, the Unpopularity which had been lavished upon Mr. Poindexter was transferred, by a vote of 4 to 1, to Henry and he didn’t have a tem. Finally, about an Hour after the Dance was over, the Women Folks were shown to a Cottage on the Hill while Mr. Poindexter and his never-to-be Father-in-Law occupied Cots in the laundry. When they started for Home next A. M. it was Mrs. G. who gave the orders and so she was to blame when the Speed Cop got them just outside of Jimpson Heights. They had six .Witnesses who testified that they were creeping along at about 15 Miles per Hour, so the Justice soaked them $28, and after they were out on the Road again, the Engine and Miss Peevy developed a Knock. It had to be one of the new Tires that went flat. The man in the Garage had guaranteed it for 12,000 Miles, which Explanation seemed to satisfy every one except Mr. and Mrs. Gibble, Miss Peevy and Mr. Poindexter. The Shades Of Night were falling fast when the joy-riding Bus passed through a quiet Village which was 50 Miles from a Bath-Tub. The Moon was smiling in the Sky when the Bodies were removed from the Car, but the Moon had a practical Monopoly of all that Smiling Stiff. The Chauffeur had been fired, once more, and if you think that Estelle and Mr. Poindexter were holding Hands on the Back Seat, then you must be Crazy. No one had anything to say to any one Else except that Mrs. Gibble was handing to the Mental Defective who paid her Bills, and what she said cannot be inserted herewith as the Newspaper using this Article is limited as to Space. MORAL: Automobiles can eleminate Distance, but Not Human Nature.