Whoever is running a machine must be prepared for emergencies,
for at any moment it may be necessary to get underneath.

The man who is going to master his own machine must expect to get
dirty; dust, oil, and grime plentifully distributed,--but dirt is
picturesque, even if objectionable. Character is expressed in
dirt; the bright and shining school-boy face is devoid of
interest, an artificial product, quite unnatural; the smutty
street urchin is an actor on life's stage, every daub, spot, and
line an essential part of his make-up.

The spic and span may go well with a coach and four, but not with
the automobile. Imagine an engineer driving his locomotive in blue
coat, yellow waistcoat, and ruffles,--quite as appropriate as a
fastidious dress on the automobile.

People are not yet quite accustomed to the grime of automobiling;
they tolerate the dust of the golf links, the dirt of base-ball
and cricket, the mud of foot-ball, and would ridicule the man who
failed to dress appropriately for those games, but the mechanic's
blouse or leather coat of automobiling, the gloves saturated with
oil--these are comparatively unfamiliar sights; hence men are seen
starting off for a hard run in ducks and serges, sacks, cutaways,
even frocks, and hats of all styles; give a farmer a silk hat and
patent leather boots to wear while threshing, and he would match
them.

Every sport has its own appropriate costume, and the costume is
not the result of arbitrary choice, but of natural selection; if