One of the earliest open roads tales, originally serialized for the Saturday Evening Post. Fashionable and single Clair Boltwood joines her father on a drive cross-country to Seattle with the hope that the long trip will help her avoid marrying her "sophisticated" New York beau.
to Mr. Boltwood of the control of men, not to take a chauffeur. Her father never drove, but she could, she insisted. His easy agreeing was pathetic. He watched her with spaniel eyes. They had the Gomez roadster shipped to them from New York.
On a July morning, they started out of Minneapolis in a mist, and as it has been hinted, they stopped sixty miles northward, in a rain, also in much gumbo. Apparently their nearest approach to the Pacific Ocean would be this oceanically moist edge of a cornfield, between Schoenstrom and Gopher Prairie, Minnesota.
* * * * *
Claire roused from her damp doze and sighed, "Well, I must get busy and get the car out of this."
"Don't you think you'd better get somebody to help us?"
"But get who?"
"No! It's just 'who,' when you're in the mud. No. One of the good things about an adventure like this is that I must do things for myself. I've always had people to do things for me. Maids and nice teachers and you, old darling! I