In Chapter CCCXL of Violet Crepuscular’s epic romance, Oy, Rodney, the mad genius of Scurveyshire, Lord Devius Scrumble, Baronet, has been released from custody to demonstrate his “Horseless Carriage,” which he has secretly constructed out of uneaten scraps of food and bits of wood and iron smuggled into his cell by the vicar, over whom he wields some inexplicable power. The project took all of six years to complete.
“Just let me out of here for one day,” he declares to Lord Jeremy Coldsore, “and I’ll sign over to you half the profits from my Horseless Carriage!” Desperate for money, Lord Jeremy agrees: as justice of the peace, he has the authority to furlough the not-quite-with-it baronet.
Unveiling his carriage on the village common, right next to the statue of a gigantic mouse, erected to commemorate some event in Scurveyshire’s history that nobody remembers, Lord Devius creates a sensation. What kind of sensation, we are not told.
“Well, it’s a carriage, I guess,” remarks the American adventurer Willis Twombley, “and there ain’t no horse to pull it; but I’ll be darned if I can see how it goes.” It has wheels, a frame, and a steering rudder, but not much more.
“Behold! The Twentieth Century has come to Scurveyshire!” exults the baronet. The year being 1869, no one is quite sure what he means.
He climbs into the carriage and, wonder of wonders, it takes off at high speed. The crowd oohs and aahs, but Twombley is unimpressed. “It’s only goin’ anywhere because he’s runnin’ with it,” Twombley observes. “He’s doin’ the horse’s job! What kinda stupid invention is that?” Culturally aware readers will immediately recall The Flintstones: it is, for all practical purposes, a Flintstone car.
Powered by the driver’s own legs and feet–might as well walk! But Lord Devius Scrumble is a very fast and powerful runner, and before anyone can stop him, he makes his escape. Lord Jeremy comes in for some criticism for that.
“Imagine the whole shire’s consternation,” concludes Ms. Crepuscular, “when the Horseless Carriage attempts to pass the vicar’s backyard wading pool and is quickly pulled under by enormous tentacles, never to be seen again.”
How she can expect to win a Pulitzer Prize for this defies the imagination.