Life — September 3, 1925 — page 8: what you’re looking at

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

6 shooting jealous looks from behind the shades, Mr. Pipp took the wheel and stepped on the starter. “We're off!" he shouted. the Great Open Spaces!” “Off to the Great Open Spaces,” re- peated Mrs. Pipp. “Popper, how far is it to the beach?” piped Patricia Pipp. “About twenty miles,” replied Amos “How long will it take us to get there, Popper?” asked Prentice, the youngest Pippian. “Oh,” replied Mr. Pipp with the ut most nonchalance, “we oughter do it in about fifty minutes Mr. Pipp looked at his watch. It was 12:30. Confidently he tooled his car off the side street through darting taxis and on to the main thoroughfare. He grew a little nervous when, within the first ten blocks, his right front fender was twice grazed by other Sunday tourists cutting in ahead of him. Mrs. Pipp was somewhat perturbed, too, by the number of cars going in the same direc- tion, “It's like a parade, ain't i claimed. “People getting home from church, 1 guess,” said Amos. “Look out!" yelled abruptly. Her shout brought the car to such a sudden stop that the Pipp baby was jostled from his seat into the box con- taining the custard pie. “What's the matter?” demanded Mr. Pipp. “You made me stall the engine! Don't yell at a man when he’s driving.” “That big truck ahead was stoppin explained Mrs. Pipp. “Off for she ex- Mrs. Pipp HE BAKELY AVOIDED CRASHING INTO THEM. “T saw it,” snapped Mr. Pipp, very red, as the cars ahead moved on and a fanfare of horns assailed him from behind. Before he got his car started again a dozen cars turned out and whizzed by, the owners flinging back comment of a nature much too hot for Mr. Pipp to handle. The car suddenly lurched forward and was on its way again. Mr. Pipp was perspiring dreadfully. Mrs. Pipp looked unhappy. The traffic signal was against them at the next crossing. “We turn here.” said Amos, as he awaited the “Go” nal, After what scemed an hour the policeman blew his whistle. The twenty or more cars lined up started forward with explosive sputterings. Mr. Pipp started to turn to the right. There was a grinding of brakes behind him. Somebody shouted: “Whatcha doin’ there, stupid?” “Why don’t you hold out your hand?” bawled another. The policeman motioned to Amos to stop. Amos did so. He looked very rattled. After all the cars had passed on down the avenue the officer beckoned for him to turn. “Give a sign there, feller, before you make any turns!” said the policeman gruffly as Amos wheeled by. “I'm no mind reader.” “The thick mug!” said Mr. Pipp, softly, when he had covered a safe dis- tance. A whistle blew sharply. “He heard you say that!” cried Mrs. Pipp, looking back. Amos turned the color of faded enamel and put on his brakes prepared for the worst. “No,” said Mrs. Pipp. “It's all right. He's stopping traffic again. Go ahead, dearie.” Amos sighed heavily and stepped on the gas. He was beginning to look ragged. “L suppose it's always bad getting out of the city,” he said weakly. “Soon's we get across town and hit the turn- pike it'll be easy.” Within sight of the turnpike, Mr. Pipp found himself blocked. He peered out over the side of the car. There was a solid mass of machines ahead of him, waiting for the signal to turn into the turnpike. “Popper, why don't we move?” chirped the Pipp infant, after about fifteen minutes. “Don't ask fool questions,” Mr. Pipp. “What time is it, Amos Pipp. Mr. Pipp looked at his watch. “One o'clock,” he replied. The car in front crawled ahead a (Continued on page 26) very barked sked Mrs. IN A MOMENT THE CAR WAS ABLAZE, MR, PIPP TURNED AWAY, MUTTERING. comicbooks.com