Leather coats are a great protection against both cold and dust.  Unhappily, most people who have no machines of their own, when invited to ride, have nothing fit to wear; they dress too thinly, wear hats that blow off, and they altogether are, and look, quite unhappy—­to the great discomfort of those with them.  It is not a bad plan to have available one or two good warm coats for the benefit of guests, and always carry water-proof coats and lap-covers.  In emergency, thin black oil-cloth, purchasable at any country store, makes a good water-proof covering.

Whoever is running a machine must be prepared for emergencies, for at any moment it may be necessary to get underneath.

The man who is going to master his own machine must expect to get dirty; dust, oil, and grime plentifully distributed,—­but dirt is picturesque, even if objectionable.  Character is expressed in dirt; the bright and shining school-boy face is devoid of interest, an artificial product, quite unnatural; the smutty street urchin is an actor on life’s stage, every daub, spot, and line an essential part of his make-up.

The spic and span may go well with a coach and four, but not with the automobile.  Imagine an engineer driving his locomotive in blue coat, yellow waistcoat, and ruffles,—­quite as appropriate as a fastidious dress on the automobile.

People are not yet quite accustomed to the grime of automobiling; they tolerate the dust of the golf links, the dirt of base-ball and cricket, the mud of foot-ball, and would ridicule the man who failed to dress appropriately for those games, but the mechanic’s blouse or leather coat of automobiling, the gloves saturated with oil—­these are comparatively unfamiliar sights; hence men are seen starting off for a hard run in ducks and serges, sacks, cutaways, even frocks, and hats of all styles; give a farmer a silk hat and patent leather boots to wear while threshing, and he would match them.

Every sport has its own appropriate costume, and the costume is not the result of arbitrary choice, but of natural selection; if we hunt, fish, or play any outdoor game, sooner or later we find ourselves dressing like our associates.  The tenderfoot may put on his cowboy’s suit a little too soon and look and be very uncomfortable, but the costume is essential to success in the long run.

The Russian cap so commonly seen is an affectation,—­it catches the wind and is far from comfortable.  The best head covering is a closely fitting Scotch cap.

CHAPTER THREE THE START “IS THIS ROAD TO—­”

The trip was not premeditated—­it was not of malice aforethought; it was the outcome of an idle suggestion made one hot summer afternoon, and decided upon in the moment.  Within the same half-hour a telegram was sent the Professor inviting him for a ride to Buffalo.  Beyond that point there was no thought,—­merely a nebulous notion that might take form if everything went well.