The Ferry

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           Having driven through Oakland, the gasoline-and-asphalt appearance of which confirmed yet again that we were in America, we stopped at the ferry jetty. A short line of automobiles was already waiting. We didn't have to wait long, about ten minutes. A bell began to ring, and a wide-nosed ferry with two tall, thin pipes set next to each other came in to land at the dock. The sailors threw out the gangway and several dozen automobiles filed out one after the other off the ferry out to freedom. We didn't see a single foot passenger. The cars went past our motorized line and set off for Oakland. Immediately another bell sounded, and our line filed in one after the other to their places, which were still warm and smelled of gasoline and oil. The whole operation of unloading and loading took no more than two minutes. The automobiles were distributed on the lower deck on both sides of the engine room, two rows deep on each side. The ferry cast off.

Chapter Thirty-One: San Francisco.