The Wheels of Chance: A Bicycling IdyllWells, H. G. (Herbert George)
General
The Wheels of Chance: A Bicycling Idyll
Wells, H. G. (Herbert George)
Cycling -- Fiction; England -- Social conditions -- 19th century -- Fiction
The pause was unexpected. Jessie had some trouble with a crumb. Mr.
Hoopdriver’s face passed through several phases of surprise. Then he
saw the explanation. “Had an accident?”
“I can hardly call it an accident. The wheels suddenly refused to go
round. I found myself about five miles from here with an absolutely
immobile machine.”
“Ow!” said Mr. Hoopdriver, trying to seem intelligent, and Jessie
glanced at this insane person.
“It appears,” said the clergyman, satisfied with the effect he had
created, “that my man carefully washed out the bearings with paraffin,
and let the machine dry without oiling it again. The consequence was
that they became heated to a considerable temperature and jammed. Even
at the outset the machine ran stiffly as well as noisily, and I, being
inclined to ascribe this stiffness to my own lassitude, merely
redoubled my exertions.”
“’Ot work all round,” said Mr. Hoopdriver.
“You could scarcely put it more appropriately. It is my rule of life to
do whatever I find to do with all my might. I believe, indeed, that the
bearings became red hot. Finally one of the wheels jammed together. A
side wheel it was, so that its stoppage necessitated an inversion of
the entire apparatus,—an inversion in which I participated.”
“Meaning, that you went over?” said Mr. Hoopdriver, suddenly much
amused.
“Precisely. And not brooking my defeat, I suffered repeatedly. You may
understand, perhaps, a natural impatience. I expostulated—playfully, of
course. Happily the road was not overlooked. Finally, the entire
apparatus became rigid, and I abandoned the unequal contest. For all
practical purposes the tricycle was no better than a heavy chair
without castors. It was a case of hauling or carrying.”
The clergyman’s nutriment appeared in the doorway.
“Five miles,” said the clergyman. He began at once to eat bread and
butter vigorously. “Happily,” he said, “I am an eupeptic, energetic
sort of person on principle. I would all men were likewise.”
“It’s the best way,” agreed Mr. Hoopdriver, and the conversation gave
precedence to bread and butter.
“Gelatine,” said the clergyman, presently, stirring his tea
thoughtfully, “precipitates the tannin in one’s tea and renders it easy
of digestion.”
“That’s a useful sort of thing to know,” said Mr. Hoopdriver.
“You are altogether welcome,” said the clergyman, biting generously at
two pieces of bread and butter folded together.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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