surmounted by getting out, giving the machine all its power, and
adding our own in the worst places.

Sand--deep, bottomless sand--is the one obstacle an automobile
cannot overcome. It is possible to traverse roads so rough that
the machine is well-nigh wrenched apart; to ride over timbers,
stones, and boulders; plough through mud; but sand--deep, yielding
sand--brings one to a stand-still. A reserve force of twenty or
thirty horse-power will get through most places, but in dry
weather every chauffeur dreads hearing the word sand, and
anxiously inquires concerning the character of the sandy places.

Happily, when the people say the road is "sandy," they usually
mean two or three inches of light soil, or gravelly sand over a
firm foundation of some kind--that is all right; if there is a
firm bottom, it does not matter much how deep the dust on top; the
machine will go at nearly full speed over two or three inches of
soft stuff; but if on cross-examination it is found that by sand
they mean sand, and that ahead is a succession of sand ridges that
are sand from base to summit, with no path, grass, or weeds upon
which a wheel can find footing, then inquire for some way around
and take it; it might be possible to plough through, but that is
demoralizing on a hot day.

Happily, along most sandy roads and up most hills of sand there
are firm spots along one side or the other, patches of weeds or
grass which afford wheel-hold. Usually the surface of the sand is
slightly firmer and the large automobile tires ride on it fairly
well. As a rule, the softest, deepest, and most treacherous places
in sand are the tracks where wagons travel--these are like