May 23, 2014

"Scorching again, old man."

Anachronistic portrayal.

From the Star Tribune archives, 1899:

“Scorching again, old man,” cried one of the prisoners, as the patrol wagon turned into lockup alley, and a curious crowd “rubbered” as if their necks would be stretched off.
“He certainly was good to me,” said another, and the crowd laughed.
But when the iron bars shut out their view, and the youthful trio had nothing but whitewashed walls to gaze at, they began to realize their doom, and the minutes of their imprisonment began to grow into hours, at least so it seemed to them.
It was an ideal evening for a spin. Of course it was a little chilly, but then a spurt of a block or two helped to warm the blood. And that asphalt on Park avenue was so tempting.

Who could help but ride fast just a short distance?

Happy long weekend. Scorch something.

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