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19

Maybe memory adds a special dimension but it seems to me that over the many years I knew Glenn Martin, his changes in physical appearance were minimal.  He was tall, slim and with his horn-rimmed glasses and rather diffident manner he was for all the world likev [[sic]] a divinity student.

In the privacy of our room, Gertrude and I, both young and frivolous, chuckled long and loudly at the idea of anyone being crazy enough to fly.  We referred to Glenn as 'Bugs Martin'.  Gentlemen [[sic]] that he was he never outwardly resented it but there was no question that he had plenty of thoughts of these two rowdy females who had little regard and no respect for progress based on science.

The road conditions from San Francisco to Los Angeles made the trip one dust-smothered horror.  No macadam, no concrete, just roads of about three inches of fine alkali dusty sand.  It was our misfortune to meet countless farm wagons pulled by eight giant horses and loaded with wheat.Their size made it imperative we pull off the road and let them by.  We ate dust, our noses and eyes filled with it,we gritted it between our teeth and grayed our hair with it.  Our clothing resembled the inside of a busy hotel vacuum cleaner bag.  When we arrived at our hotel at the completion of our day's run, a flip of the coin determined who used the tub first.  What a wonderful feeling to be the winner!.

Finally or at long last the trip was over.  Wrong again.  In Los Angeles some publicity hipped idiot conceived the idea we should cross the Mexican border and visit Tia Juana.  This sojourn caused me some momentary regret and a few anxious moments.