Life, 1897-06-10 · page 5 of 20
Life — June 10, 1897 — page 5: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# "The Ride from Ghent to Aix" This page presents a humorous poem by Irwin Beaumont recounting a bicycle race from Ghent to Aix (Aix-la-Chapelle). The narrative parodies the famous historical poem "How They Brought the Good News from Ghent to Aix," substituting galloping horses with bicycles and modern cycling culture. The accompanying cartoon depicts cyclists in various states of chaos and mishap—crashed wheels, tangled riders, and mechanical failures—satirizing the Victorian bicycle-riding craze and its hazards. The illustration titled "Pearls of Etiquette" humorously addresses proper cycling posture. The satire mocks both the romanticism of historical adventure narratives and the newfound obsession with bicycles as modern transportation, treating mechanical cycling mishaps as inherently comedic subject matter for the era's readers.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
-> LIFE: THE RIDE FROM GHENT TO AIX. (Brought up to date.) SPRANG to the saddle and Joris and he; I pedaled, Dirck hustled, we scorchéd all three; “‘Good-speed !” cried the watch, as the gate-bolts undrew; “Speed !" echoed the wall as our safeties went through; Not a word to each other, we kept the great pace, Neck by neck, wheel for wheel, never changing our place. I turned on my saddle and set the gear higher, Inspected each pedal, examined each tire, Then lowered the handle, leaned over a bit; Nor pedaled less steadily Joris a whit. At Aorschot, up leaped of a sudden the sun, Just like a new wheel ere the spokes are begun, And his light through the mist as we whizzed along fast Gave me sight of my speedy new safety at last. By Hasselt, Dirck groaned; and cried Joris, ‘Stay foot! Your wheel has done bravely the pace it was put; We will tell them at Aix—" then we heard the quick wheeze Of the air from his tires, as he fell on his knees; And we left him there, cursing each card in the deck, Slowly dragging his wheel, with the tires ‘round his neck. So we were left pedaling, Joris and I— Just the whiz and the whir and the sun in the sky; Till over by Dalhem a dome-spire sprang white, And “Scorch!” gasped old Joris, ‘for Aix is in sight!" ** How they'll greet us!""—and all in a moment his wheel Struck a tree with a crash and a hideous squeal; And there was my safety, to bear the whole weight Of the news which alone could save Aix from her fate, With its tires getting soft, and its good sprocket chain Making sounds like the old oaken bucket again. Then I cast loose my sweater, each glove I let fall; Rode up on the sidewalk with pitiless gall; Threw down my ‘‘ki-yi gun,” leaned over my bar, Till right into Aix I had pedaled from far. And all I remember is friends flocking ‘round, As I sate with my wheel ‘twixt my knees and the ground, And all of the crowd were so pleased that they grinned As I pumped down its tires their last measure of wind, venuin ron ERUerTE, Which the burgesses voted, by common consent, To the safety’ which safely brought safety from Ghent. IT 1S THE CORRECT THING IN DRIVING 10 SIT FIRMLY, | YOUR FEET CLOSE TOGETHER, WHATEVER MAY HAPPEN, Irwin Beaumont, comicbooks.com