CHAPTER 1
RIDGEFIELD ROAD
“Mr. Franklin! How do you do?” said Edward to the elderly gentleman sitting alertly in the passenger’s seat.
“Sir, I do not believe I have had the pleasure,” replied Ben Franklin, lately arrived in the twentieth century and still dressed in breeches, waistcoat, cravat … no wig though.
“Edward Blank, sir, and I have been taught about your work, as have so many American schoolchildren throughout the history of our country. May I help you by explaining what is happening?” They were moving south on Ridgefield Road at about the thirty-five mile-per-hour limit.
“An explanation of what is happening would be helpful, but more helpful would be to know what has happened.” There was certainly no panic in his voice. Curiosity was rather the sentiment that showed as Edward glanced over and Franklin smiled mildly, his eyes peeking over the square lenses of his glasses.
“Alas, that I cannot provide, I can only thank Divine Providence for obliging what has been a frequent daydream of mine,” —and hope that it really is God and not merely my own wishful thinking, thought Edward.
“So, an act of God,” mused Franklin, his face sober, gold glasses frames flashing as the morning sun topped the eastern ridges. “But you can tell me about what is happening, for example, about this vehicle we are in that is hurtling down what I take to be Ridgefield Road with no visible means of locomotion?”
“Certainly, only, if I may, could you tell me how you recognized Ridgefield Road?” Edward was elated that Franklin was, far from being flummoxed by the transposition in time and space, taking it in stride.
“Why, the sign we just passed had an outline of Connecticut and the house behind us on the left is, or was, none other than Isaac Morgan’s, well known in these parts as a tinsmith – and, I might add a Royalist.”
“Right you are, sir, and you provide me with valuable information about the age of what is today my own house, for if you noticed Mr. Morgan’s name, perhaps you also noticed the date on the plaque?”
“I am afraid I do not follow, sir. We are, as I said, hurtling along, at such a rate that, even with my spectacles, the inscription on the plaque you mention, which did catch my eye, could not be distinguished.”
“Then I am still more certain that you have helped me, for it is obvious that it was the house itself that you recognized. The inscription in question reads, ‘Isaac Morgan, 1790,’ but that is a conservative estimate of what has been conjectured to be an earlier date of construction. If the building is familiar to you, then it must have been there well before 1790, perhaps as early as 1768, another date for which there is some evidence.”
“So let it be, only now you have the trouble of having a new plaque prepared; however, another digression: how can it be that we are passing your house and not proceeding to or from it?”
“Easily answered, sir. We are indeed proceeding from it; however, I had a small errand to run this morning, dropping off a document at the house of a neighbor a few doors up the road, before proceeding south to catch the morning train.”
“The morning train?”
“Yes, but now you must choose: would you like to know more about trains, or should we begin with cars, which is the common term for this vehicle?”
Franklin again looked round at the dashboard and over at the speedometer, touched his pocket watch, which must have emerged while Edward was looking at the road, took a steadying breath, and then said, “Well then, perhaps … ‘cars’ then?”
So, it is a bit unnerving to him after all, thought Edward. Well, compared to the average person, in his day or my own, he is rock solid. Still, I must be considerate of what he is going through.
“The wheel I am resting my hands on is called the steering wheel. As you may have observed, if I turn it right, the car turns so, and likewise if turned to the left.”
“Yes but, what moves the car?” said Franklin eagerly, gesturing forward.
“The car’s four wheels roll, just like a carriage, in fact, the automobile manufacturers include some of the old carriage makers ...”
Franklin, interrupting, “But again, that is not exactly my question. There are no horses; therefore what is pulling the car?”
“The engine, forward, in the compartment in front of us, under the metal cover you see, called the hood, provides the driving force.”
“What sort of an engine is this, a steam engine, like Watt’s?”
“No, for personal vehicular transportation such as this, it has so far been found to be more practical to tap the force of explosive combustion itself, rather than build up steam pressure in a boiler.”
“I am not familiar with this method, how is explosive combustion controlled? How is it created in the first place?”
“Let us start with its creation, but first, here is the train station, where the automobile portion of our daily journey into New York comes to an end. I must park the car, and then we will board the train.”
“What do you mean by an automobile journey?” asked Franklin.
“Cars, that is, automobile being the more technical term for them,” replied Edward.
“But what a great many automobiles there are! Wilton has grown mightily, I see,” and, absorbing these observation-packed words, Edward began to worry less that it all might be too much for old Ben.
“The whole country has grown mightily, to the point where it and not Europe is now the center of the world,” said Edward, struggling to match Franklin in terms of the breadth and significance of the thoughts he communicated.
But Edward had evidently thrown more at Franklin than he was ready to absorb, for the other only said, “I take it this train is what I see in the distance, beside the platform?”
“Right on both counts. We mount the platform and enter the train car through the doors you see open, but the essential difference between rail and automobile transportation is that of the rails themselves. Take a look behind the train, at the tracks, and observe they consist of two steel rails, parallel.”
“Yes, so I see. And tell me, of these two new means of transportation, is it this one that first came to pass?”
“Yes, in about 1830, but how did you guess?” Again, the Franklinian powers of observation!
“Because of Watt, and because of your informing me that steam is less convenient for personal transportation vehicles. Watt’s work I can date to my times, so there I have a historical starting point —by the way, you still have not told me what year it is.
“Second, I observe that this is not personal transportation we are about to board; therefore, the steam engine cannot be ruled out as having played a role in its development and might have become available not long after my times.
“And third, I take it to be true a priori that people in general, given the choice, will choose to have their own personal transportation if at all possible. Therefore, I assume that the arrival of cars, the personal mode of transportation, must have had to await the solution of the direct combustion problem.”
“Thank you, sir. I believe I have learned something just by listening to the process of thought that you went through, and this is the year 1993.”
At this revelation, Franklin actually stopped in his tracks, worrying Edward on two counts: that he might miss the morning train and that, after all, it was getting to be a little too much for him.
Edward said softly, “Shall we board, sir? I see there is a vacant banquette available,” and, with Franklin leaning on his cane and the platform threshold before them, he offered an arm to the older man.
“Mr. Franklin! How do you do?” said Edward to the elderly gentleman sitting alertly in the passenger’s seat.
“Sir, I do not believe I have had the pleasure,” replied Ben Franklin, lately arrived in the twentieth century and still dressed in breeches, waistcoat, cravat … no wig though.
“Edward Blank, sir, and I have been taught about your work, as have so many American schoolchildren throughout the history of our country. May I help you by explaining what is happening?” They were moving south on Ridgefield Road at about the thirty-five mile-per-hour limit.
“An explanation of what is happening would be helpful, but more helpful would be to know what has happened.” There was certainly no panic in his voice. Curiosity was rather the sentiment that showed as Edward glanced over and Franklin smiled mildly, his eyes peeking over the square lenses of his glasses.
“Alas, that I cannot provide, I can only thank Divine Providence for obliging what has been a frequent daydream of mine,” —and hope that it really is God and not merely my own wishful thinking, thought Edward.
“So, an act of God,” mused Franklin, his face sober, gold glasses frames flashing as the morning sun topped the eastern ridges. “But you can tell me about what is happening, for example, about this vehicle we are in that is hurtling down what I take to be Ridgefield Road with no visible means of locomotion?”
“Certainly, only, if I may, could you tell me how you recognized Ridgefield Road?” Edward was elated that Franklin was, far from being flummoxed by the transposition in time and space, taking it in stride.
“Why, the sign we just passed had an outline of Connecticut and the house behind us on the left is, or was, none other than Isaac Morgan’s, well known in these parts as a tinsmith – and, I might add a Royalist.”
“Right you are, sir, and you provide me with valuable information about the age of what is today my own house, for if you noticed Mr. Morgan’s name, perhaps you also noticed the date on the plaque?”
“I am afraid I do not follow, sir. We are, as I said, hurtling along, at such a rate that, even with my spectacles, the inscription on the plaque you mention, which did catch my eye, could not be distinguished.”
“Then I am still more certain that you have helped me, for it is obvious that it was the house itself that you recognized. The inscription in question reads, ‘Isaac Morgan, 1790,’ but that is a conservative estimate of what has been conjectured to be an earlier date of construction. If the building is familiar to you, then it must have been there well before 1790, perhaps as early as 1768, another date for which there is some evidence.”
“So let it be, only now you have the trouble of having a new plaque prepared; however, another digression: how can it be that we are passing your house and not proceeding to or from it?”
“Easily answered, sir. We are indeed proceeding from it; however, I had a small errand to run this morning, dropping off a document at the house of a neighbor a few doors up the road, before proceeding south to catch the morning train.”
“The morning train?”
“Yes, but now you must choose: would you like to know more about trains, or should we begin with cars, which is the common term for this vehicle?”
Franklin again looked round at the dashboard and over at the speedometer, touched his pocket watch, which must have emerged while Edward was looking at the road, took a steadying breath, and then said, “Well then, perhaps … ‘cars’ then?”
So, it is a bit unnerving to him after all, thought Edward. Well, compared to the average person, in his day or my own, he is rock solid. Still, I must be considerate of what he is going through.
“The wheel I am resting my hands on is called the steering wheel. As you may have observed, if I turn it right, the car turns so, and likewise if turned to the left.”
“Yes but, what moves the car?” said Franklin eagerly, gesturing forward.
“The car’s four wheels roll, just like a carriage, in fact, the automobile manufacturers include some of the old carriage makers ...”
Franklin, interrupting, “But again, that is not exactly my question. There are no horses; therefore what is pulling the car?”
“The engine, forward, in the compartment in front of us, under the metal cover you see, called the hood, provides the driving force.”
“What sort of an engine is this, a steam engine, like Watt’s?”
“No, for personal vehicular transportation such as this, it has so far been found to be more practical to tap the force of explosive combustion itself, rather than build up steam pressure in a boiler.”
“I am not familiar with this method, how is explosive combustion controlled? How is it created in the first place?”
“Let us start with its creation, but first, here is the train station, where the automobile portion of our daily journey into New York comes to an end. I must park the car, and then we will board the train.”
“What do you mean by an automobile journey?” asked Franklin.
“Cars, that is, automobile being the more technical term for them,” replied Edward.
“But what a great many automobiles there are! Wilton has grown mightily, I see,” and, absorbing these observation-packed words, Edward began to worry less that it all might be too much for old Ben.
“The whole country has grown mightily, to the point where it and not Europe is now the center of the world,” said Edward, struggling to match Franklin in terms of the breadth and significance of the thoughts he communicated.
But Edward had evidently thrown more at Franklin than he was ready to absorb, for the other only said, “I take it this train is what I see in the distance, beside the platform?”
“Right on both counts. We mount the platform and enter the train car through the doors you see open, but the essential difference between rail and automobile transportation is that of the rails themselves. Take a look behind the train, at the tracks, and observe they consist of two steel rails, parallel.”
“Yes, so I see. And tell me, of these two new means of transportation, is it this one that first came to pass?”
“Yes, in about 1830, but how did you guess?” Again, the Franklinian powers of observation!
“Because of Watt, and because of your informing me that steam is less convenient for personal transportation vehicles. Watt’s work I can date to my times, so there I have a historical starting point —by the way, you still have not told me what year it is.
“Second, I observe that this is not personal transportation we are about to board; therefore, the steam engine cannot be ruled out as having played a role in its development and might have become available not long after my times.
“And third, I take it to be true a priori that people in general, given the choice, will choose to have their own personal transportation if at all possible. Therefore, I assume that the arrival of cars, the personal mode of transportation, must have had to await the solution of the direct combustion problem.”
“Thank you, sir. I believe I have learned something just by listening to the process of thought that you went through, and this is the year 1993.”
At this revelation, Franklin actually stopped in his tracks, worrying Edward on two counts: that he might miss the morning train and that, after all, it was getting to be a little too much for him.
Edward said softly, “Shall we board, sir? I see there is a vacant banquette available,” and, with Franklin leaning on his cane and the platform threshold before them, he offered an arm to the older man.
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home