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Updated: June 4, 2025
Another famous "impayable" was the coffin-cart man who came on occasions to drive the men to their last resting place. The Coffin cart was a melancholy looking vehicle resembling in appearance a dilapidated old crow, as much as anything, or a large bird of prey with its torn black canvas sides that flapped mournfully like huge wings in the wind as Pierre drove it along the streets. I could never repress a shiver when I saw it flapping along. The driver was far from being a sorry individual with his crisp black moustaches bien frisés and his merry eye. He explained to me in a burst of confidence that his métier in peace times was that of a trick cyclist on the Halls. What a contrast from his present job. He promised to borrow a bicycle on the morrow and give an exhibition for our benefit in the yard. He did so, and was certainly no mean performer. The only day I ever saw him really downcast was when he came to bid good-bye. "What, Pierre," said I, "you don't mean to say you are leaving us?" "Yes, Miske, for punishment I will explain how it arrived. Look you, to give pleasure to my young lady I took her for a joy-ride, a very little one, on the coffin cart, and on returning behold we were caught, voil
Stop that!" shouted Sam Brewster, jumping up and trying to rescue the poor victim from Sary's mighty hold. "Ain't it so, Mister Brewster? We-all paid good money fer this joy-ride, an' we-all ain't got nothin' from it but jumpin' nerves, so far!" Every one but the poor conductor laughed heartily at Sary's complaint. But Mr.
Like Dante on his joy-ride Seeing Hell, Fain would I take you down Through sulphurous fires and caverns bilious brown Into the Land of Mystery and Smell Where Satan steweth And home-breweth While thirsty hooch-hounds yell Their blackest curse, Or worse: "Vol-darn our souls with each Vol-blasted dram That burns our throats and isn't worth a dam! We drink, yet how we dread it Vol-stead it!"
Ob fumed, his little round face grew rounder, his moustache went up and down, he threatened everybody with instant execution, like the Red Queen in "Alice." Then he found that no motor was awaiting us. He rushed to the telephone while we had a belated lunch. No motors; one was out taking the Serbian officers for a joy-ride; Prince Peter had taken the other to Antivari.
The holiday "everything shut up" had arrived. No carrier was abroad. Neither reason given for the joy-ride held good. Yet the project was well on foot. The smaller car was at the De l'Isles' lovely gates, with monsieur in the chauffeur's seat, Mme. Alexandre at his side, and Dubroca close behind her. The larger machine stood at the opposite curb, with Beloiseau for driver, and Mme.
The journey home, despite the uncertainties pending, was a joy-ride for the two. Landy, as was his wont, clutched the armrest of the car and said nothing. Time was, when safe in a saddle, he had thrown reins to the wind "en allowed that critter a spell of fancy worm-fence buckin', but a-ridin' a auto wuz dangerous business." Arriving at the B-line stables, the party paused for a final conference.
His day's work was finished and he was bound on an expedition which was one part business and nine parts joy-ride, frank and undisguised, for the squadron-car had been placed at his disposal. The road to Amiens was dry, the sun was up, and the sky was blue, and behind him was the satisfactory sense of good work well done, for the "Sausage-Killer" was at that moment on his way back to the base, sitting vis-
Do you remember the chauffeur who promised Felice a "joy-ride"? Can't you see his fatuous grin one day as he listened to a drawling young- sounding voice over the telephone of Seeley's Boarding house, a voice that he couldn't remember at all, demurely saying, "You said you'd give me a joy-ride sometime if I had a new bonnet I have. I really look like anybody else now.
He's crossing next week, and he's to go and see Father and Mother in Paris first, then come back with them to England, and have a holiday before he begins his new work. Dad's going to hire a car and take us a joy-ride, and Lenox is to get leave and join us. You know Lenox isn't demobilized yet. He's in a camp in Wales. But he expects they'll give him about five days.
"But what have I to do with all this? Why cannot you settle your business without pursuing me?" was the mournful question, for Winifred never guessed how greatly the man's information affected her. "I can't rightly say, but you're either with us or ag'in' us. If you're on our side it'll be a joy-ride. If you stick to that guy, Carshaw "
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