… About two weeks after his run-in with the Stagecoach driver, after stopping for days at a time along the way when, first, his horse ran away and, then, when she lost a shoe, Mr. Johnson drove from Little Lake to Ukiah.

“Little Lake is simply a station for the changing of horses for the mail coaches, and for drivers and chance passengers to eat and drink, the thirst being the greatest every time.

“About noon I was traveling a really good road, equal to a fair eastern road. I stopped, fed my cattle, made a fire, cooked some dinner and ate it all alone, no one around, not a house for miles, and had not seen one since leaving Latonville. Rested till half-past one o’clock, and then resumed the journey, passing what is known as Sherwood valley — coming to a cross-road I read on a board, ‘To Bartlett’s Spring and over the mountain to Sacramento.’ So far today have seen but one man. I do not have a chance to ask where does this road go, or how far is it to this place or that, yet I must soon come in sight of Ukiah.

“Presently I came in sight of a house, and then another, and I found myself in comparatively a large town. I urged Fanny along and soon we were in the city. I call it a city, not being positive it is, but it is one of the large towns in this part of California.

“On arriving in Ukiah, I made for a wheelwright’s shop to have my broken wheel repaired. If I knew the name of that rascally driver I would give it to show his meanness, yet doubtless he is telling the story to some of his boon companions as a good joke served on that eastern chap.

“I found a carriage shop and asked the proprietor if he could repair my wheel; I told him that I had, soon after crossing Eel river been run into by the stage driver, crushing one of my wheels. ‘Where is your carriage, let me look at it?’ ‘It is in front of your shop, sir, I have come all the way from Eel river with those splints on the wheel, as you see.’ ‘Those splints make a strong wheel.’ ‘Yes, but what can you do to make them stronger?’ I asked. ‘I shall have to take the wheel to pieces and glue the spokes anew.’ ‘How much will you charge me?’ ‘I will do it for $2.50.’ ‘Can you do it this afternoon?’ ‘Yes, this afternoon.’ It was then four o’clock.

This reminds me of last Saturday, when we took our car (which had suffered a flat tire on our drive back to Kentucky from Georgia over Thanksgiving weekend) to get a new tire so we wouldn’t be driving around on the spare. We didn’t realize that the shop closes at noon on Saturdays, and we got there at about 11:30 a.m. They took us in anyway, and got it done quickly … but it did cost considerably more than $2.50.