I have. I bravely drove out to a Japanese truck garden
for vegetables and came to grief. One of the boys tersely expressed it
in his diary, "Muvs ran into a Japanese barn and rooked the bumper!" Now
that that is over, I begin to feel a certain sense of independence that
is not unpleasant. It is some time since I have stalled the engine or
tried to climb a hill with the emergency brake set. The boys and the
"pufflers" are game and keep me company; we live or die together.
After all, the loveliest rose in my garden, the Sunburst, lifts its
fragrant flower of creamy orange on a stalk bristling with
wicked-looking mahogany spikes. If I'm very careful about cutting it, I
don't prick my fingers and the thorns really add to the effect.
[Illustration]
THE GYPSY TRAIL
A friend of mine once wrote an article on motoring in Southern
California for one of the smart Eastern magazines. In it she said that
often a motor would be followed by a trailer loaded with a camp outfit.
What was her surprise and amusement to read her own article later,
dressed for company, so to speak. "A trailer goes ahead with the
servants and outfit, so that when the motoring party arrives on the
scene all is in readiness for their comfort.
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