Reborn in America, I am a legendary short seller on Wall Street.

Chapter 298 Ford Motor Company, Let's Have a Night-Long Ride!
Friday, November 1892, 5.

This day should be recorded in history.

At 3:30 p.m., Larry and Mr. K arrived at the Ford Motor Company in the South Boston Harbor waterfront industrial area by horse-drawn carriage.

In the spring air of Boston, the scent of the sea mingled with the coal smoke from distant factories. A brand-new red Ford Model A was parked on the paved concrete pavement inside the Ford Motor Company, with Henry Ford standing beside it.

"Hi, Larry Livingston! Long time no see." Mr. Ford greeted Larry warmly, but then noticed that the person behind Larry didn't seem very happy.

Larry reacted even more dramatically than Ford, rushing forward to embrace him as if they were old friends who hadn't seen each other for years.

"Mr. Ford, I miss you so much! I've always thought about your car; it's an invention that transcends centuries. It's a pity I can't be by your side more often..."

Henry Ford smiled broadly. "Yes, my Ford Model A is truly fantastic. By the way, this is the best car I could find, the one you requested over the phone."

I've already filled the car with gas and prepared an acetylene lamp for lighting... but I don't understand, what do you need this lamp for?

Larry smiled and said, “I want to take it on a long trip, from Boston to New York, and get there before 10 a.m. tomorrow morning.”

“Aha! That’s a brilliant idea!” Henry Ford smiled, clearly convinced that it was a clumsy joke from Larry.

Larry, a smile on his face, began inspecting the car. It was in excellent condition. Since it was still a semi-handcrafted vehicle, this Ford featured meticulously designed, personalized trim pieces, and its glossy paint reflected the sunlight. The color scheme was the classic red and yellow of Iron Man, personally chosen by Larry.

Larry walked around the car, nodded in satisfaction, and then beckoned Mr. K over.

“Old K, come take a look too. This car is really nice. I remember you were saying when you first saw Mr. Ford that if you were driving this car, you wouldn’t have been caught by those guys at customs…”

Mr. K looked a bit worried, but he still went over and carefully examined the Ford car. He smiled wryly and said, "I used to think that way... but I've changed my mind. I think it's safer and faster to ride in a horse-drawn carriage."

Larry chuckled and patted him on the shoulder, his tone light and cheerful, "Mr. K, remember, this great machine may not be as fast as a horse-drawn carriage at the beginning, but in the future, the carriage will never be able to catch up with it. That's progress!"

Mr. K nodded and said calmly, "I admit what you said... as long as you can let me go?"

"How could that be? Don't think this is some trivial task... I'm here to invite you to witness history!" Larry smiled and turned to Ford.

"Sir, I suggest you prepare extra tires and gasoline; we'll be leaving in a bit."

Ford was slightly surprised, but he still called over one of his assistants and asked him to do so.

Larry immediately noticed that the young man was an Italian he had met before.

It seems the intelligence was very accurate; this clever young man will receive his own chicken leg reward in the future.

Soon after, an extra tire and extra gasoline were loaded onto the rear rack of the Ford Model A.

Larry turned and waved to Mr. K, then got into the passenger seat first. He then smiled at Henry Ford and said, "Let's go, Mr. Ford! It's a long way to New York from here! We're in a hurry."

Henry Ford's smile froze on his face. He stared wide-eyed at Larry. "No, my brother, are you serious? You're going to drive this car to New York?"

“I’m not driving, you are!” Larry patted the steering wheel and said solemnly, “Let’s go, only you deserve this unprecedented interstate bus trip.”

“…Really? You’re not kidding me…” Henry Ford still couldn’t believe it.

"Would I joke with my life like that?" Larry laughed, pointing into the distance. "Let's go! Ford, your time has come. We're about to make history!"

Henry Ford bit his lip, thinking it was a pipe dream. Cars were currently positioned as a means of urban transportation; how could they possibly be used for long-distance travel?
But Ford couldn't refuse, because Larry's words deeply moved him—if he really drove from here to New York, it would be a truly record-breaking and magnificent journey.

This was an unparalleled temptation for the inventor of the automobile.

Ford looked at Larry with a smile on his face, gritted his teeth, and said, "Alright! Since you trust my car so much, then I'll go to New York with you."

As he spoke, Henry Ford opened the car door and sat down in the seat.

"Well done!" Larry praised, then turned to look at Mr. K.

The latter, looking utterly dejected, climbed onto the back seat of the car. Although the seats were all leather, Mr. K preferred to sit in the dilapidated and shabby carriage.

"Henry, I heard this thing can run 28 miles?" Larry asked.

Ford confidently turned the two-speed gearbox lever and said seriously, "More than enough, Larry, and our car has brakes, so it can stop smoothly."

“Alright! Onward to New York!” Larry pointed into the distance.

Boom boom...

The Ford Model A's horizontally opposed twin-cylinder engine roared to life. The car started moving and immediately began to accelerate.

Amidst the astonished expressions of the crowd gathered at the Ford factory, the car drove out of the factory and onto the famous Boston Mail Road, beginning its great journey.

At this time, between Boston and New York, the Boston Postal Route, one of the most famous postal highways in American history, was built. It was the first true public road in America and the prototype of U.S. Route 1.

The Boston Postal Route refers to a series of roads during the colonial period that connected the cities of Boston and New York, as well as many small towns in New England.

Two important branch routes are: one is the southern route, which starts from New York, goes east along the coastline, passes through New Haven and Providence, and then goes north to Boston.
The other route starts from New York, reaches New Haven, then turns inland, passing Hartford, and then continues north to Boston.

This road bears witness to North America’s colonial history, the American Revolutionary War, the American Civil War, and America’s rapid development.

Benjamin Franklin was born in a house along this postal route, and later, when he served as Postmaster General of the United States, he established the comprehensive postal system on this very route.

On December 16, 1773, the Boston Tea Party occurred in Boston Harbor. News of the incident began to spread along the postal route the following day, and within a few days, people from Boston to New York knew about it.

During the Revolutionary War, the first battle fought by General George Washington, Commander-in-Chief of the Continental Army, was in New York, where he blocked the British army and protected the Boston mail route.

Later, the Boston Postal Route was widened and leveled, extending southward across New York City and along the coastline. It eventually became a major artery running the East Coast and served as the prototype for U.S. Route 1.

Larry and Ford are now speeding southwest along this road. Once the car is moving smoothly, the two-speed gearbox makes acceleration very smooth, and the chain-driven rear wheels kick up golden dust on the dirt road.

When the car was approaching 25 miles per hour, the wind became so strong that it was impossible to open one's eyes.

Larry suddenly remembered a cartoon he watched as a child, where the convertible drivers wore goggles, which now seemed incredibly realistic.

Mr. K, sitting in the back seat, kept exclaiming, "My God! Boss, this is much more exciting than riding a horse, but the noise of the chain is giving me tinnitus!"

Larry smiled, glanced at Henry Ford beside him, and said to him in the same loud voice, "Mr. Ford, please remember this suggestion. I think we should definitely change this easily damaged chain drive to a shaft drive in the future."

Ford nodded, his face already showing extreme excitement, and he had begun to enjoy this unexpected long journey.

However, the road was clearly not designed for cars. Furthermore, the Ford Model A didn't have very good suspension, so once the speed increased, the three of them experienced severe jolting.

Along the mail route, the coachman and the passengers in the carriage watched in astonishment as the strange machine carrying three people overtook the slowly moving carriages.

"Can it go any faster?" Larry shouted.

"Any faster, and on this lousy road, my car will fall apart!" Ford gritted his teeth and pressed the accelerator again. The speedometer needle was already swinging to 30 miles per hour, and the car was beginning to lurch violently. Potholes, gravel, and fallen branches all became traps for the car as it drove.

"Damn it, where's the road? I thought the American Postal Route was really good!" Larry gripped the passenger side door tightly and complained loudly.

Mr. K rolled his eyes. He had been forcibly recruited by Larry because, during his long career in smuggling, Mr. K possessed an unparalleled knowledge of the topography of the American East Coast.

“Boss, no carriage can accelerate to 30 miles per hour. If you could slow it down a bit, we would be very comfortable... If you insist on driving this fast, I don’t think we’ll reach New York before the carriage falls apart!”

Mr. K shouted at the top of his lungs.

Larry thought to himself that this made perfect sense. The roads hadn't even been paved yet, and going this fast was just asking for trouble; it wouldn't even make things much faster.

"Mr. Ford, please slow down. We'll speed up again once we have better roads."

Ford was a bit unsatisfied. He was an inventor, no doubt, but sitting in his own car, he was now more of a fanatical believer in speed.

The car speed was reduced to about half of what it was before, so the wind didn't hurt my face as much as before, and the noise was also reduced a lot.

At 7:30 p.m., the car carrying the three arrived in Providence, Rhode Island.

Ships in the bay sounded their horns, the city was shrouded in the yellow glow of gaslights, and the firelight from the foundry dyed the sky orange-red.

The three were enjoying the exhilaration of speed and changing scenery, and almost drove into a dock piled with cotton at a bend in the road.

Fortunately, Mr. Ford's car has very good brakes. When the brakes are applied, the brass brake pads press tightly against the rear tires, making a screeching sound.

Once the car was back on the road, even Mr. K began to enjoy the feeling of controlling the speed. It was different from riding a horse; when riding a horse, the most important thing is to control it, while driving a car is about doing whatever you want.

As darkness fell, the carriages on the road stopped to find inns for the night. Henry Ford lit his acetylene lamp, and two white beams of light instantly pierced the darkness.

Larry was slightly surprised; he hadn't expected the primitive acetylene lamp to be so bright!

Henry Ford explained to him, "This thing shines three times brighter than a kerosene lamp, but it's damn afraid of the wind!"

Larry laughed. He noticed that Henry Ford had also started swearing. Men, you know, usually swear when they're angry, and they swear when they're really enjoying themselves.

The car continued on its way, and time passed second by second.

The Ford performed much better than Larry had expected. The distance from Boston to New York is about 225 miles, or 360 kilometers. It was nighttime, and identifying the road was very difficult.

Fortunately, he had Mr. K with him, so even in the dark forests of Connecticut, he was able to find his way.

By 11 p.m., all three were getting hungry, but the road continued to stretch ahead. The acetylene lamp flickered slightly but did not go out.

As the car drove out of the forest, the bright moonlight rose, covering the dark earth with a layer of silver.

The three sat in the convertible, feeling the strong wind blowing, and looking at the moonlight and the distant ocean. The novelty overcame their fatigue and hunger.

Suddenly, with a bang, the car's rear wheels made a strange noise, and the car began to swerve.

Fortunately, the car wasn't going very fast, and Henry Ford quickly brought it to a stop. Mr. K turned on the lantern, and the three of them looked in the light and saw that the rear wheel had run over a sharp stone, causing the tire to burst.

"Tire change! Tire change!" Larry shouted.

The three of them stepped out of the car shakily. After several hours of driving, the road felt like it was constantly shaking.

Mr. K raised the lantern high, and Larry helped Henry Ford change the spare tire by its light. After the tire was changed, the three of them went to the roadside to urinate before continuing their journey.

Perhaps due to a slight delay on the road, or perhaps because the excitement of the long journey had worn off, all three began to feel tired, and their stomachs started to rumble.

“Let’s walk a little further and find an inn to rest!” Larry suggested.

“Well, I am a little tired too. My God, I’ve never driven a car for so long,” Ford exclaimed.

At this time, it is not difficult to find a hotel along Boston Post Road. There are many small towns along the coast, and there are also small hotels along the roadside specifically for tourists and passersby.

The three of them had noticed the inns that kept popping up along the roadside, and the guests and owners resting inside were also looking at them with surprise.

But that's often how things are; by the time you're actively looking for hotels, they've already disappeared.

After driving for nearly 20 minutes, a lone inn appeared by the roadside with a sign that read "Old Oak Inn".

"Stop the car! We're not going anywhere, we're resting for a bit," Larry shouted, banging on the car door.

(End of this chapter)