Two Thousand Miles on an Automobile Being a Desultory Narrative of a Trip Through New England, New York, Canada, and the West, By "Chauffeur" — Inside the Classic

A Desultory Structure and Its Mechanical Parallel

Eddy’s narrative deliberately mirrors the automobile’s erratic behavior. The foreword admits the story is 'discursive,' moving between travelogue, mechanical troubleshooting, and social commentary without warning. This is not a flaw but a method: the author claims it is 'impossible to write coolly, calmly, logically, and coherently about the automobile' because the machine itself defies such treatment. The result is a text that lurches forward, stalls, and detours, much like the journey it describes.

This structural choice is reinforced by the chapter headings, which Eddy compares to 'finger-posts or danger signs' that allow readers to 'avoid the bad places.' The book thus offers two reading paths: a straight-through narrative for the patient, and a selective route for those seeking only 'morsels of practical value.' The index, mentioned in the foreword, further facilitates this pick-and-choose approach. By framing the book as a kind of road map with optional detours, Eddy invites readers to experience the unpredictability of early automobiling without being stranded.

Roads, Repairs, and the Social Landscape

Eddy’s observations extend beyond the machine to the roads themselves and the people who use them. In Massachusetts, he describes stretches of 'perfectly laid macadam' with signs requesting drivers not to use the center—a plea universally ignored. 'Everybody kept the middle of the road,' he notes dryly, attributing this to 'the improvidence of men.' This small detail reveals a tension between infrastructure and human habit that recurs throughout the narrative.

The author also tracks the economic impact of good roads. Farmers who initially 'grumble at the great expense' quickly appreciate the savings when one horse can pull as much as two on improved surfaces. Eddy predicts that soon farms will be assessed by whether they lie on a 'State road,' a prescient observation about the link between transportation and property values. Meanwhile, the automobile itself is positioned as a road-friendly vehicle, unlike 'steel tires and horseshoes' that cut up surfaces. These asides blend practical travel advice with a broader commentary on modernization.

The Unreliable Machine as Narrative Engine

Mechanical failure is not merely an obstacle in Eddy’s account; it drives the story forward. When the spark weakens near Westfield, the author describes the temptation to 'go on if the machine starts up unexpectedly,' knowing full well that postponing repairs will lead to a breakdown. This pattern—a temporary fix followed by a more serious halt—structures the journey and provides natural suspense. The eventual stall at West Brookfield forces the travelers to seek lodging, leading to an encounter with sympathetic summer boarders.

Eddy’s technical descriptions are precise but accessible. He traces the spark from a 'large, round, fat spark' to an 'insignificant little blue sparklet,' diagnosing the coil as the likely culprit. Such passages ground the narrative in the physical realities of early motoring, where a driver had to be both mechanic and navigator. The machine’s 'odorous will' becomes a character in its own right, unpredictable and demanding, shaping the rhythm of travel and the texture of the prose.

Eddy’s narrative rewards readers who appreciate digression as a form of authenticity. The book’s value lies not in its destination but in the accumulated details of roadside repairs, road conditions, and the social dynamics of turn-of-the-century America. To read it is to ride shotgun with a narrator who is as interested in the coil’s behavior as in the farmer’s reaction to a new macadam road. Approach the text as Eddy suggests: pick your route, skip the bad patches, and enjoy the unexpected stops along the way.

I remember those early motoring books, full of honest dust and breakdowns. Eddy’s desultory tale, with its roadside hesitations, always felt like a slow conversation. It shares a quiet kinship with The Discovery of Muscovy — Text and Context, another record of uncertain passage, where the journey’s detours matter more than the map’s straight line. Both simply begin, wander, and leave a lingering scent of open road.