We were assured that we should find good roads through Ohio to Cleveland, where we were to take the D. & C. steamer to Detroit. If we were to take this part of the trip again, we should certainly go to Chicago, via Toledo and South Bend, Indiana. As we had relatives in Detroit waiting in the heat to see us, and to depart for cooler climes, we took the most direct route through Youngstown, Ohio, to Cleveland. The roads were poor and the many detours were almost impassable--over high hills, on narrow sandy roads, winding like a letter S through the woods. One long stretch was so narrow that two cars could not pass; so they had two roads, one going each way. The Doctor remarked, “I wonder what would happen if a car broke down on this detour.” Prophetic soul! He no sooner had said it than we rounded a curve, and presto! there were six cars, puffing and snorting, lined up back of an Overland car, which was disabled and stuck fast in the sand. In half an hour there were ten cars back of ours--and the sun setting over the hills, and fifty miles to Youngstown! The owner of the car knew nothing of his engine. Heaven save us from such motorists! But Heaven did not save us, for we met dozens of men, headed for the wilds of somewhere, who were as blissfully ignorant of what made the wheels go round as their wives were. It may have been a coincidence, but is nevertheless a fact, that nearly every car we saw disabled, ditched, stuck in the mud or sand, or being towed in, on the entire trip, was an Overland car. It really became a joke. When we saw a wreck ahead of us, some one exclaimed, “Dollars to doughnuts it is an Overland!”--and it generally was. It used to be a common expression, “If you wished to really know people, travel with them.” I would change it to “Motor, and grow wise.” There were as many varieties of dispositions in that belated crowd as there were people. Everyone got out of his car and went ahead to the wreck, offering advice, growling, complaining, and cursing Ohio detours. A few sat on the roadside and laughed, chatted, or read the papers. As it was hot and dusty, we looked like an emigrant train. My husband is an engineer with a knowledge of cars. He suggested some simple remedy which enabled the man to get his car to the next siding, and we all started with a whoop of joy on the wretched road, leaving the Overland owner to spend the night at a farmhouse near by.