AS the greater part of my life is spent in contact with vehicles of high speed, it is, of course, inevitable that I should have had one or two more or less narrow escapes which might very easily have had a fatal termination. My escapes have extended over a pretty considerable period now, but really, considering what a great deal I have had to do with motoring, these adventures have been by no means so frequent as you might imagine.
One of the principal things that strikes me in connection with this matter is the fact that during the actual moments of danger the motorist's mind is not in the least concerned with the question of his own personal safety, but is wholly taken up with the possibility of getting the car through without damage. It is not until afterwards that one has time to think about what might have happened to oneself.
"Suddenly, without any warning, the car got quite out of control"
I think that the two most exciting incidents which I have ever experienced were both in connection with the Gordon-Bennett Cup. In 1902, I entered for this contest, and was driving, with Cecil Edge as mechanic. The roads on the Continent are bordered at short intervals by trees on either side, and these are generally very useful to steer by when the road ahead is obscured by dust. In fact, under these circumstances, they form the sole guide as to the direction of the road's course. Upon the occasion in question, I was steering in this manner along a road which, as it transpired, curved in the shape of an S, and, only observing the left-hand bend, I made for the trees beyond, ignoring the return right-hand curve altogether.
In less time than it takes to tell, I saw a couple of heavy-looking gates loom up in front of the car, with a railway line behind them. The line ran along the top of a high embankment, up which the car was now rushing at full speed. I jammed on the brakes with all my strength, locking the wheels so suddenly that the car swung completely round twice and then pitched headlong down the embankment to the fields below. If we had struck a tree in that desperate fall, our fate would have been sealed, but it so happened that we escaped this misfortune, and actually came through the adventure unhurt.
Some peasants, who had been at work near by, ran to our assistance, and were very anxious to help in getting the car to rights again; but this we would not consent, to, for if we had allowed them to help us we should have been disqualified from the race. Their astonishment was great when we refused their well-meant offers. We were wise to do so, however, as we soon got the motor going again and eventually had the satisfaction of winning the Cup, despite what might easily have proved to be a fatal mishap.
But my worst adventure befell me the next year during the trials for the Gordon-Bennett race of 1903. I had just had a number of repairs made in my car, and it was absolutely essential that I should go round the course to see that all was working smoothly. It was a pouring wet day, and the roads had had a coating of Westrumite, which made them
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