The Car That Went Abroad: Motoring Through the Golden Age

In Short

This travelogue chronicles a leisurely, unplanned motor tour through France and Switzerland during the final, golden summer of 1914. Part travel diary and part historical meditation, the book captures the sights, smells, and small-town charms of the French countryside just before the outbreak of the First World War. It has lasted because it provides a quiet, observant window into a Europe that was about to be irrevocably altered, rendered with a sincerity that values local color and historical memory over the frantic pace of modern travel.

The Story

The journey begins in the spring of 1914 with a sense of boundless possibility. The author, accompanied by his companions—including the ever-optimistic Narcissa and a young boy named Billy—sets off from Switzerland in a motorcar they treat with the affection usually reserved for a pet. Their route is not a rigid itinerary but a drift through the "Midi" of France, characterized by perfect roads, fragrant olive groves, and vineyards heavy with grapes. They move through the historic landscapes of Arles and Avignon, where the author lingers on the legends of the past, such as the shepherd boy Benezet who allegedly built a great bridge by miracle, and the grim, medieval tale of a servant woman who defended her master’s house against seven robbers with a two-edged sword.

As the party travels, their experience is defined by the "red road-book" hotels—small, clean, and unfailingly hospitable inns that offer excellent French cooking and comfortable beds for mere pennies. They visit the "Lost Napoleon," a natural rock formation, and climb the steep, crumbling ruins of Chinon, where Joan of Arc once stood before the King of France. The author finds himself deeply moved by these remnants of history, contrasting the ancient, enduring stones of France with the modern, fragile nature of his own motorcar, which occasionally breaks down, necessitating slow, meditative waits in sleepy villages like Poix de la Somme.

The arc of their journey shifts abruptly in July. While the party enjoys a peaceful existence in Vevey, Switzerland, the news of the assassination of the Austrian archduke eventually gives way to the terrifying realization of total war. Billy Baker, the young member of their party, delivers the blunt news that the world is mobilizing and they must "beat it" for home. The narrative changes tone; the carefree exploration of the countryside is replaced by a sense of impending dread. They traverse Italy as soldiers begin to march in the streets and the air grows heavy with the approach of conflict. After shipping their car back to America, they endure a stormy Atlantic crossing. The book concludes on a poignant, solitary note: the author returns to his home in Connecticut on Christmas Eve, pulling the car into the barn. The great adventure is over, and the Europe they traveled through—a place of simple inns, ancient shrines, and unhurried roads—has effectively ceased to exist, leaving the author to wonder if such a summer could ever be found again.

How It Unfolds

The voyage begins The author and his party set out in early May, though their departure is delayed by rain and the inconvenient opening hours of a Swiss bank. They quickly leave the mundane frustrations of the city behind, finding their rhythm on the open, sparkling roads of the French countryside.

Through the French Midi They wander through the historic heart of Provence, stopping to admire Roman ruins and lingering in towns like Arles. The author records the customs of the road, including the necessary politeness shown to the l'octroi officials to avoid hefty fines and police interference.

Historical meditations The travelers become students of local legend, visiting sites associated with Joan of Arc and debating the merits of medieval bridge-builders. They develop a habit of stopping at every interesting spire, often discovering forgotten churches that hold centuries of royal history.

Disaster and repair The car suffers a mechanical failure after a collision in a sleepy village, forcing a week-long stay in the picturesque Poix de la Somme. This forced pause allows the author to appreciate the quiet, unchanging life of the local inhabitants.

The sudden encroaching war The idyllic summer is shattered by the news of impending global conflict, transforming their lighthearted excursion into a race for the coast. They finish their trip through a somber Italy, watching as the beauty of the landscape is overshadowed by the mobilization of armies.

The journey home The final leg involves a precarious sea voyage across the Atlantic, leaving behind the turbulence of Europe. The book closes with the author’s solitary drive into his own barn, marking the definitive end of an era.

The People

The author acts as the observant, slightly whimsical guide, a man who delights in the "romance" of history and is easily captivated by a good story, whether it concerns a saint or a local innkeeper. His wife, Narcissa, provides a grounded, often humorous counterpoint to his romantic flights of fancy; she is the one who helps negotiate the practicalities of travel and keeps the author from becoming too lost in his own reveries. Billy Baker, the sixteen-year-old traveler, serves as the unintentional herald of reality; his abrupt delivery of war news acts as the catalyst that forces the adults to confront the crumbling of their world. Finally, the car itself functions as a central figure, a "capable conveyance" that the author imbues with a sentient personality, viewing it as a tired, loyal companion that survives the journey through its own mechanical trials.

In Its Own Voice

"It seemed a good deal like traveling through Eden, and I don't suppose heaven--the automobilist's heaven (assuming that there is one)--is much better."

The author describes the idyllic conditions of the French roads during the height of the summer.

"The little group around the green center table forgot what they were there for."

The author captures the exact moment when the news of the impending war interrupts the travelers' evening games in a Swiss hotel.

"We had made the circuit--our great adventure was over."

The author reflects on the finality of his return to Connecticut after the world they explored has been fractured by conflict.

What It's Really About

The book is fundamentally an elegy for a specific kind of freedom that existed only at the intersection of early motoring and pre-war stability. It asks: how does one witness history? The author finds that history is not just found in textbooks but in the persistence of stone, the taste of local wine, and the quiet routines of villages that have not yet heard of the "high cost of living." It argues that the true value of travel lies in these lingering, unplanned moments of discovery, and it questions the fragility of a world where one can drift from the heights of aesthetic beauty into the depths of a global catastrophe in the span of a single afternoon.

Why Read It Today

Readers who enjoy the gentle, observant prose of early 20th-century travel writing will find this book deeply rewarding. It reads like a long, reflective conversation with a well-traveled, thoughtful companion. You will love the vivid, sensory descriptions of the French landscape and the author’s genuine affection for the small, humble hotels that defined his trip. However, modern readers should be prepared for the author’s occasional period-specific attitudes and his tendency to ramble, which reflect the leisurely pace of the era. The book’s greatest strength—and its most haunting quality—is the way it captures the "golden age" of travel while knowing, as the reader does, that the world is about to catch fire. It remains a powerful reminder of how quickly the mundane can turn into the historical, and the way a simple journey can become a final, precious memory of a world that is no longer there. It is a book for those who want to slow down, listen to the echoes of the past, and appreciate the fleeting nature of peace.