Like a Scene From a Marx Brothers Movie

Description 1916Scripps-Booth B.jpg
1916 Scripps-Booth Model "C" Roadster automobile on display at Tallahassee Automobile Museum.
Date September 2007(2007-09)
Source: Photo by Infrogmation of New Orleans

I've been reading a book from my shelf by Groucho Marx himself, and he very proudly points out in his book that is not done by a ghost writer: Groucho And Me, The Autobiography of Groucho Marx (Published by Bernard Geis Associates, distributed by Random House, 1959).  Every page has pearls of wisdom, nostalgia, and humor, such as this zinger: "The reason the farmer gets away with so much is that when a city dweller thinks of the farmer he visualizes a tall, stringy yokel, with hayseed in his few teeth, subsisting on turnip greens, skimmed milk and hog jowls and living in a ramshackle dump with his mule fifty miles from nowhere.  But what's the good of my trying to describe it?  Erskine Caldwell wrapped it up neatly in God's Little Acre."

The story that I am compelled to share with you involves a Scripps-Booth Cycle Car, similar to the one above, way back before they all went to the scrap yard.  He should have put this experience in one of his movies:  "I realized that, romantically, it was going to be a barren summer unless I could get a car.  After weeks of prowling the used-car lots, pretending I wasn't a potential buyer, I finally exchanged a hundred and fifty dollars for a Scripps-Booth.  The Scripps was a tiny car.  It had two seats and an auxiliary seat that swung out from under the dashboard.  The gimmick that sold me on this auto was a button on the top of the right-hand door which was, in some mysterious way, connected with the battery.  It was like something out of the Arabian Nights.  Press the button and the door flew open.  It was sheer magic!....

...There was a girl in our neighborhood who was a beauty.  I met her by accident one night in a movie theatre.  She was munching popcorn, and part of it, either by accident or design, was falling into my coat pocket.  I'm not going to describe her looks in detail, but she was so beautiful that I even returned the lost popcorn....In talking to her, I discovered she was an automobile nut....It had been raining all day and the streets were still full of water.  But the night was clear and the moon was shining...She was wearing  a white dress, a large white hat and white shoes.  I met her halfway, greeted her with all my well-tempered elegance, and quickly rushed back to open the car door for her.  The door stuck a little and in my eagerness to get it open before she arrived, I slipped a foot or two under the car.  I brushed off the mud, moved in beside her and away we drove toward the lake.  I was delirious with joy.  My heart was making more noise than the engine, and when she smiled at me I knew that, at last, I had found the girl of my dreams. 
     The car wasn't too well balanced, and even at slow speed it lurched around corners like a rolling drunk.  As we went around one corner, she tried to steady herself by placing her hand on the door.  What she didn't know was that this was the door with the electric button.  To my horror, the door flew open and the glamorous creature slid gracefully out of the car into a large, muddy puddle....I quickly backed up, almost running over her in my excitement, hopped out of the car and helped her to her feet.  Though she was wet and muddy, I recognized her immediately.  I tried to explain and apologize but all she said was, "Take me home, you bastard!" "

They don't make them like they used to, and this story proves that on a couple of levels.  It also makes me very glad that dating is a dim and distant memory.