Car Poem – The Dream of a Mad Driver

POEM: The Dream of the Scorcher
[as it originally appeared in the January 1901 edition of The Automobile magazine]

“Bring forth the car!” The car was brought,
In truth it was a noble steed-
A racer of the get-there breed;
It looked as though the speed of thought
Were in his wheels — gee, what a game!
I ne’er before had seen the same.
Up in the seat swift I jumped,
And with willing hands the levers pumped.
You should have seen the way I humped
My back and leaned hard against the steering bars,
Without one thought of cable cars!
Away! away! My breath was gone —
I saw not where I hurried on;
‘Twas scarcely yet the close of day
As I flew on — away! away!
My speed was like a mountain blast —
Great guns ! but I was traveling fast!
Full soon a warning shout arose.
A lady dressed in Sunday clothes
Straight in my pathway gently stepped—
Her relatives, I’m sure have wept
And mourned her sudden, sad demise —
A demon’s joy shone from my eyes;
Away! away! my car and I,
Upon the pinions of the wind,
All human folk we left behind.
We sped like meteors thro’ the sky —
A fat policeman barred my way;
His funeral was, I heard, next day.
On! on! at lightning speed I sped,
And stopped not once to count my dead.
A trolley car my pathway blocked;
The motorman was sadly shocked
When I rode up the fender to
The roof, then down again flew
Upon my mild, untrammelled way.
The sky grew dim and dull and gray.
My victims had no chance to pray.
I mowed them down to right and left,
Nor cared how many I bereft
Of husband, father, brother, wife —
Ah, me the carnage and the strife
Of wicked wars could not compare
With my wild ride, for everywhere
Rose dying cries and wailing moans,
And piteous pleadings mixed with groans
That would have made my blood run cold
Had I but stopped; but not for gold
Or precious stones would I have paused
To note the ravages I caused.
On! on! into the jaws of night
I rushed and shrieked with wild delight
To see men start in wild afright
As down upon them swift I bore
And left them, weltering in their gore!
Away! away! with fiendish squeal
I crushed the weak ‘neath rubbered wheel,
I sneered and laughed at maimed men,
I drained with glee my awful cup,
I laughed a chortling laugh — and then
The pipe went out and I woke up.