Showing posts with label motorcycles. Show all posts
Showing posts with label motorcycles. Show all posts

Friday, April 25, 2008

When Jimmy Flew

1916

Story for the Children

Jimmy was just an ordinary, wide-awake, curiosity-satisfying boy, with a very inventive mind.

In the short term of years that had elapsed since he started on the road to learning, three things that were of much interest to him had been born into the world. They were the automobile, the motor-cycle, the aeroplane. Upon wireless telegraphy he had not bestowed more than a passing thought, for, as he forcibly expressed it, "it didn't get you nowhere."

Of the first-mentioned three he desired to make for himself one of each, and in reality had made an automobile that went haltingly and uncertainly down the road for distances varying from a few feet to half a mile. Upon its completion Jimmy was the king of his gang for ten days — just ten days and no longer.

He was coasting down the long hill in front of his father's home one day when the machine became unmanageable and ran away. On the bridge it struck a cow, breaking her leg so she had to be killed for beef. The automobile, with Jimmy at the wheel, then jumped the balustrade, landing in the water upside down, and had it not been for ready assistance Jimmy would have been drowned.

Jimmy was just at that age when he was easily frightened at something of no consequence, yet would, with perfect equanimity, climb to the top of a forty-foot windmill tower while the wheel was turning in a perfect gale, and wonder why his parents became so excited and ordered him down forthwith. It took more than an automobile accident to dampen his inventive spirit, so he took up the manufacture of a motor-cycle with renewed enthusiasm. In it, however, he found more than his match and had to give up the project. His father's withdrawing all his assistance after his former accident no doubt was the controlling factor in the failure. The making of an aeroplane was never considered very seriously by Jimmy, as he had never seen one outside of books, let alone get close enough to one to see how the thing was made.

This explains why Jimmy's heart throbbed with excitement when he learned that there was to be an aeroplane flight at the forthcoming celebration, and he became more excited than ever a few days before the much-looked-for date when a force of men appeared in the field alongside his father's orchard and were soon erecting the canvas hangar that was to house the machine.

Jimmy was at the spot post-haste, and dogged the steps of the workmen from morning until night, carrying bolts, wire, or anything that their slightest wish signified they needed.

Jimmy absorbed the erection of that biplane as a sponge absorbs water.

He was a very likely boy, and the men took a great fancy to him, explaining everything in detail, and when the last nut had been tightly fastened, the last wire drawn taut until it fairly sang, the machine was pushed into the open, Jimmy placed in the seat and a picture taken of the youthful aviator.

While he sat there the young man who operated the machine showed him how the aeroplane was guide and how the various plans were manipulated.

"Say, when a fellow has to use both feet and both hands and his back, he does not have very much time for anything else, does he?" Jimmy asked, wonderingly.

"No time to look at the landscape that's sure," his instructor replied.

The aviator and his mechanicians were seated a few feet away, eating dinner; Jimmy was sitting in the machine, trying to explain to Bud Wilkins and Jerry Smith just how the thing flew, when Bud, in a spirit of fun, gave the paddles a whirl. Immediately there was a sputter that grew rapidly into a roar. Before Jimmy or the men were aware of what had happened, the machine was bounding along over the field.

The frightened boy just had one fleeting glimpse of the men as they jumped to their feet in a futile attempt to catch the machine, and then he saw the frightened face of his mother as he sped past the house. As he turned to look back he unknowingly raised the planes and barely cleared the high hedge at the end of the field.

Higher and higher he went.

The whole country seemed to be one large green carpet; golden splotches, showing where the oats had been cut, made the cornfields a greener hue by contrast, while here and there a tin roof was betrayed by flashing the rays of the sun up into his face.

By the time he had realized his position Jimmy attempted to lower his planes to keep from going any higher. He did it so suddenly that he nearly turned over. He turned half around in his seat to see how far he had gone, and the machine shot around in a sharp turn, canting at an angle that was positively dangerous.

"I'm on my way back, anyhow," he muttered between his chattering teeth. "If I ever get down all right, I'll be some big chief," he continued, not without a certain exultation, in spite of his perilous position, as he watched the country below him passing like some huge kaleidoscope.

The motor made such a roar that he could hardly think, yet he reveled in its smoothness and easy running, boy though he was.

He was almost over the town again, and as he sped by there were innumerable black specks in the open spaces and in the streets, mere cracks between the rows of buildings. He looked for his own home, but was almost past before he noticed a smoke coming from an open field and rightly guessed that they were signaling him, so he could land safely.

"Good thing," he thought. "The whole works down there look as level as a floor from up here. But how am I going to get down?" he wailed.

He would have to turn again, and as he really did not know whether he had made the turn before with his right hand or his left foot, or his left hand or his right foot, or his back, he was not a bit easy, and his altitude made him chary about experimenting. But there was one thing sure — he must turn soon, for he was approaching the Big Woods, where a safe landing would be impossible.

He racked his brain trying to remember some of the instructions the aviator had given him, but could not call many of them to mind. After several gradual dips and rises he finally was started on the return trip,

As he squared away confidence came to him, and he thought of Bud and wondered how he felt. The last glimpse Jimmy had of Bud was the latter being caught in the back of the neck by a guy wire and turned over and over like a tumbler at the circus. It would have been real funny if he had not been so scared.

Jimmy was becoming more composed with each passing minute, and when he came in sight of the field and the hangar he lowered the planes and came gradually to earth. He did not know how to shut off the power, however, and sped past the terrified men and his frenzied parents like a shot, going with all speed toward a deep ravine that lay diagonally across the field. Machine and boy went to the bottom in a crumpled heap.

When Jimmy came to consciousness some time later he was in bed in his own room, and his father was bending over him solicitously.

"Young man, this is the last time I am going to call you for breakfast. You roll out now or we'll go to the parade without you."

It was then that Jimmy flew. — Harmon R. Andrews, in The Junior Herald.

Tuesday, September 4, 2007

New War Appliance

1917

A newcomer into the family of war appliances is the motorcycle-carrying airplane. A special platform built between the planes juts outside the body of the airplane, carries the motorcycle. The addition of this machine greatly enhances the effectiveness of the airplane and affords a quick means of land travel in case of a shortage of gasoline or disability of the airplane engine. If the aviators who were lost in the Mexican desert during General Pershing's expedition had been equipped with motorcycles their return to headquarters would have been a matter of only a few hours instead of a three days' wait for the searching party.


Learned Too Late

"Much evil comes from bad company," as the man said who found himself on the gallows by the side of the hangman.


The Average Man

It would discourage the average man if he was able to realize how very important he isn't!

Sunday, June 10, 2007

Protection For The Motorcycle Racer

1916

Novel Armored Suit That It Is Thought Would Save Life In Event of Accident

A pneumatic armor has been patented for the purpose of saving the lives of motor-cycle riders, and particularly racers, who, with this protective garb, may smash into each other or dive into a fence without the least regard for the consequences. The armor consists of a one-piece suit of stout material into which the wearer is laced.

Attached to the exterior of the suit is a long tube curled back and forth until the entire person of the wearer is protected by a cushion of air. Air is pumped into the tube in the same manner as a tire is inflated and when it is desired to pack the suit the air may be allowed to escape so that the outfit will take up as little space as possible. The inflation and deflation is done through the means of the check valves at the sleeves and at the trousers' top.

Thursday, April 5, 2007

Man Carelessly Empties Motorcycle Gas on Train Floor, It Catches Fire

CARELESS WITH GASOLINE.

Motorcycle Man Pours It on the Floor and Sets Fire to a Combination Car at Salem.

Sioux Falls, S. D., Aug. 7.-Partial destruction of the combination baggage and express car on the Omaha railroad at Salem last night as the result of a peculiar accident is reported by arrivals from that place. A passenger placed in the baggage car a motorcycle and was instructed by the conductor that he must remove the gasoline from it. Instead of pouring the gasoline out upon the ground it was poured upon the floor of the baggage car and the interior of the car in an instant was a mass of flames, the gasoline having ignited from lamps in the car. The motorcycle was completely destroyed and the interior of the car badly damaged and several trunks and other contents consumed.

--Weekly State Spirit and Dakota Huronite, Huron, South Dakota, August 19, 1909, page 8.

Comment: So what was this moron's problem? Obviously, if we don't want you having gasoline on board the train, we also don't want you pouring it on the floor, stupid. You have any idea what happens when gas and fire mix?