PADUTCH-LIFE-L Archives

From: "Vee L. Housman" <>
Subject: 51-The Bicycle
Date: Tue, 15 Sep 1998 11:26:37 -0400

THE BICYCLE

The other day a man visited our house to sell a bicycle. A
bicycle is a device that only has two wheels--one in front and one
behind--and it is built for us to ride upon. We mount a bicycle
facing lengthwise and pedal it with our feet, not unlike a spinning
wheel. It works on the same principles as my single track,
self-balancing railroad, except that it can be ridden without tracks
or any poles for balancing. I was very interested in it right from the
start, especially since I was afraid that it might be an infringement
of my patent rights.

The salesman demonstrated his contraption by sitting on the
bicycle and gliding off as smoothly as on owl. With skill he drove
up and down the hill in minutes. By that time Polly left her wash
tub and was standing in our doorway staring at the salesman in
wonder. The salesman asked if I would care to crawl on and try it
out. I told him that I understood the scientific principles of the
machine very well, and I knew that I could ride it until it smoked,
since my railroad worked along the same principles. So I crawled
onto the bicycle. The salesman offered to help me balance it. I told
him that it wouldn't be necessary. I just asked for him to hand me a
fence rail, so that I could show him how to balance such a machine.
The hill, stretching from the front of our house into a deep hollow,
was steep, and as soon as I was ready I asked him to give me a
push toward the hill.

The thing started off like a bird. I forgot to turn and didn't
understand the steering. Very shortly I was going faster than I ever
traveled the hill before. Before I knew it I was going faster than a
three year old filly without reins, over rocks and boulders and
ditches and gullies, now on this side of the road, then on the other.
The bicycle bumped and jarred and jerked as the fire flew from its
wheels! I felt like my life was coming to an end, and I looked back
to Polly for help. She stood at the edge of the hill, waving her
hands in the air and yelling like crazy. Then it occurred to me that
the darn thing might stop if I threw away the fence rail. I did, and
the next second the front axle made a sharp turn. Something was
happening! I flew out over the handlebars for about fifteen feet into
a fence and broke off a fence post and three rails. Free of my body,
the bicycle jumped over the fence and kept on racing halfway into
town before it lost its wind. I think it took all the wind with it,
including all of my own.

Both being afraid that I was killed, the salesman and Polly ran
down the hill to my rescue. I survived the accident, and Polly and
the salesman helped me to sit up slowly but unsteadily. After my
head cleared a little, I asked the agent whether the bicycle was still
running and whether I had broken any legs or not. He said my legs
looked pretty bad, but that he didn't think they were broken, and he
didn't really care much if they were, since an old fool like myself
deserved to have a broken neck. After they finished examining me
they decided that I hadn't hurt myself very much at all. The
salesman said that if I paid to fix the fence, he wouldn't make me
pay for the damage to the bicycle. Polly agreed that it was fair, but
she had him promise that he would never return to our place. He
went down into the field to examine his bicycle. I don't know what
the damages were, but he had to carry it away on his back.

Later that day Billy Bixler saw the salesman at Hullerhecka's
tavern. Billy said the agent cursed like mad when he found out how
many repairs were necessary. The frame was bent lengthwise. The
fenders were bent backwards, and the rear axle was bent forwards.
Polly rubbed me with turpentine and fat, and the next day I was
ready for another race on my single track, self-balancing railroad.

I and Polly have now agreed to get us a patent washing
machine instead of a bicycle. Then we can also afford to drive to
town on our feet.

* * *

Note: This collection of Boonastiel stories was written by H.
A. Harter in the original Penna-Dutch dialect and were published in
the Keystone Gazette, Bellefonte, PA, between 1894 and 1904.
They were translated and transcribed by Bob James of Alaska and
they are being posted to this PADUTCH-LIFE mailing list with his
permission.

This thread:

• 51-The Bicycle by "Vee L. Housman" <>