And now, of the car! I wished my husband, who had all the care of the car, to write his chapter. “Every man knows what to take, and how to care for his car, and there is no use giving any advice.” Perhaps he will--he has! BY T. G. M. (UNDER PROTEST) The authoress demands that I, a mere hubby, include a few chirps of advice and what-nots to the intrepid masculine persuasion who drives his own car and contemplates the trip across. You will first undoubtedly think of wearing apparel, and pass those attractive window displays in your home city, with Claude in a lovely green plush hunting suit and Myrtle in a rakish hat, leather coat, and white shoes! Don’t succumb, but take your old “comfy” gray golf or outing suit, with extra trousers, two caps, a medium-weight overcoat, a stout pair of driving-gloves, a half-dozen golf shirts with short sleeves (these are a joy for hot-weather driving and working around the car), a long pongee dust-coat, and one extra suit for emergencies. Your “soup and fish” may better be left at home, unless you plan a stay in some city. One scarcely ever sees evening dress about the hotels in the West, especially among tourists, and never among their distant cousins, the “Fordists.” For the car, I should carry a wire cable, a tow-line, a spool of annealed wire, six extra spark-plugs, two spare mounted shoes, an extra tube, a valve, and a valve-spring. Be provided with an engine-driven tire-pump, a roll of tape, a tube-repair kit (Lowe’s is a good one), and a twelve-inch Stillson pipe wrench, which you may find a life-saver in an hour of despair. Of course, you will have oil and grease-guns, a pound of grease, and plenty of soft old cloths (which are preferable to waste), and your regular equipment of tools. Our first puncture was a nightmare. The car was heavily loaded with fourteen pieces of baggage, four spare tires, etc., and it taxed my vocabulary and my moral and physical strength to raise that right rear wheel. Next day I acquired a T. C. (or traveling companion) that never left me--a nice scraggly four-by-six wood block about thirty inches long, chamfered at one end. Of course, the next puncture was also a rear-wheel tire--this time the left one; but here was where T. C. came in. I wedged the chamfered end of T. C. under and ahead of said tire, started the engine, and advanced the car until it rode the block, then put the jack under the rear axle and took the car-weight off the block, pulled out the block, changed the tire, pushed the car off the jack--and presto! there it was, ready for the road, and not even a hair mussed. T. C. is my friend! By all means acquire honestly (surreptitiously, if you must) a waterproof khaki tarpaulin about eight feet by five. You will find this invaluable to cover the spot where you must kneel or lie to fix things when Old Father Fate hands you a puncture or other kill-joy.