Judge — May 21, 1927 — page 30: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

A Family Group—Yesterday and Today. The Runaway Flivver We always felt that Flivver No. BH156,796 had a soul. The first day we got her as I led her home and coaxed her into the garage I realized that here was no ordinary creature of steel and wood. Many nights after I locked the garage doors the poor thing blew her horn so piteously that I frequently went down to pour a little fresh water into her radiator and gently stroke her hood. She was a lively little thing. How she frolicked and scampered about the lawn in happy play with the children! True, she ran away a few times—but not for long. After an absence of a day or two she invariably came back, thirsty and badly in need of gasoline and oil. My wife suggested that we chain Carrie (our name for her) to the side of the garage, but I could not get myself to tie a thing so spirited, so full of the joy of flivving. Then last Sunday we _ took our usual drive—out past the hot dog stands, the advertising bill- boards and the refreshment counters. Carrie behaved nicely enough as we joined the long automotive processional and, ex- cept for an occasional hop, she was unusually docile. But when we got out to the so-called open spaces, something of the spring day must have gotten into her cylinders, for she grew restive and jumpy. We selected a good place to eat lunch and spread a table-cloth over the ground. As I was about to bisect a sweet pickle, I heard a shrill little ery and looked up to see Carrie panting, a strange glow reflected in her front lamps. I rose to stroke her, but it was too late—Carrie’s moment had come! ne shook convulsively a few times and then started down the road, gathering momentum as she proceeded. By the old bridge she left the State Highway to roll across a daisy field, and the last we ever saw of Carrie she was silhouetted against the golden sky, coasting down a steep hill, free at la Carrie never came back. The children miss her blithe honk about the yard, and the old garage doesn’t seem just the same with- out her. But it wasn’t possible to hold down a flivver like Carrie. She was born for romance and But we don't night. ome day, she will come . and there'll always oil and a gallon of gas waiting for her in our garage. But will she come? I wonder. . . . —Arrtuvr L, Lippmann FRM An American who has just died has given all his money to a head waiter. We've often done that without dying. —Prixk Un FHS Passenger (on board)—Could I see the captain? First Mate—He's forward, miss, “I’m not afraid. I'm used to men!” —Answers FS houldn’t houses be built asks a bright corre- spondent. Why not, indeed? They would at least be fireproof. —Hvenorisr Roap Hoc—Why didn’t I find out sooner that an aeroplane can run along the highway? 28 comicbooks.com