A Ride In The Rain

The machine was almost finished. A few more screws, a tightening of the leather belt, the placing of the steering lever, and it would be complete. He had spent four years of hard work, and harder thought, on its building — delayed first by poverty, then by the building of the house, and always held back for twelve hours out of every day by his work at the Edison plant.

The engine was in place, the gears adjusted. He tightened the leather belt and tested the pulley again. Then he set the rear axle on blocks of wood, lifting the wheels from the ground, and started the engine. The cough of the cylinder quickened into a staccato bark, and the flywheel blurred with speed. Then he tightened the pulley, and the broad leather belt took hold. The rear wheels spun.