This is a blog about music, photography, history, and culture.
These are photographs from my collection that tell a story about lost time and forgotten music.

Mike Brubaker
{ Click on the image to expand the photo }

A Medley of Horn Players

12 May 2024

 
The horn is a brass instrument
that originally began as a long conical tube 
coiled into a kind of hoop shape.
At one end was fixed a small mouthpiece to buzz the lips into
and at the other was a large flared bell to amplify the sound.
It was a simple and uncomplicated instrument
that could play a scattering of useful musical notes.








But the horn's first purpose was less musical and more practical.
It was in a forest that people most often heard its ringing sound,
as horn calls rang through woods and fields
commanding the attention of dogs, horses, and hunters.
Its hoop shape was functional so that a horn
could be easily carried over the shoulder.







But as that simple hunting horn
evolved into the modern horn 
its plumbing got a bit more complicated.  


The horn is the instrument I play
and today I celebrate its history
with a medley of photos
of vintage horn players. 
Their names are unknown
but they are still good friends
whom I'd like you to meet.



Caution!
The following story contains a lot
of geeky technical detail on horn plumbing.
It is probably of little interest to anyone but horn players.
So if it gets too nerdy, skip ahead and just admire the nice pictures.
There are a few dogs.

And a great many mustaches, too.




My first image of an old horn player comes from a colorful illustration on an Austrian postcard. Wearing a leather jacket and Tyrolean hat the man smiles with his eyes, if not his camouflaged mouth,  as he appears to get ready to blow into his horn. Its twisted shape puts the bell on the right and mouthpiece on the left just like a modern horn but this one has no valves and can only play bugle-like harmonic overtones. With careful positioning of the right hand in the bell other chromatic notes are possible but they are muffled and were not needed for this horn player's music. 

The German word for it was Waldhorn or forest horn. It was this type of horn that was used in the 18th and early 19th century by Classical era composers like Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven to add a loud brassy musical color of fanfares and hunting calls to orchestral music. 

The postcard is one of the oldest cards in my collection with a written date of 28/8/1898. At the top the sender wrote "Der Trompeter von Säkkingen". This is a lighthearted reference to a poem written by the German poet and novelist Joseph Victor von Scheffel (1826–1886) which was  later adapted as an opera, The Trumpeter of Säckingen, by Alsation composer Viktor Nessler (1841–1890). This epic poem and dramatic heroic opera is set in 17th-century Heidelberg and Säkkingen, after the Thirty Years' War. It was once very popular and postcard publishers produced hundreds of colorful illustration of the hero Werner blowing a trumpet, not a horn, which is why the sender's caption on the picture of the old Waldhorn player is a subtle ironic joke. (The Trumpeter of Säckingen will return for a future story on the postcard imagery it inspired.)     

The postcard was sent in 1898 to a Fräulein Josefine Celikovsky of Praha\Prague. By coincidence the metal craftsmen who created the first brass hunting horns and Waldhorns were Czechs from Bohemia which was once part of the Austrian empire.




Before we go any further
let's listen to another kind of Waldhorn,
or actually a baker's dozen, called a Parforcehorn.
Here is the Windhag hunting horn club
with “Österreichisches Jägerliedchen”
at a musicians’ meeting in Lower Austria.
Their instrument is a Parforcehorn
which is less compact than a Waldhorn. 
It came in two sizes, pitched in E-flat and B-flat,
but a modern version combines the two
with a single valve hidden on the hoop of brass.
This extra length of plumbing gives it almost a full scale.









This French postcard is captioned: 18. Chasse à Courre en Forét de Fontainebleau - Piquerur sonnant la Curée - Hunting in the Forest of Fontainebleau - Stingers sounding the Kill. Taken outdoors in a wood this photo shows two liveried men playing horns as a pack of large hound dogs wait expectantly for their treat.

In the 16th century the Bohemian horn was introduced in France where it became the instrument that accompanied elaborate hunting events held at royal estates. These "sporting" hunts involved many servants, beaters, trackers, gamekeepers, and packs of hounds who rallied the quarry, usually stags or boar, towards the hunting party of noblemen. Special teams of men were hired to manage both the dogs and the horns. Their raucous horn calls could be heard throughout the estate as each tune announced various special moments in the hunt, like when the stag was spotted or brought to ground, or in this case I think it was time to give the dogs a taste of their prey. 

The hunting horn in France was known as the Trompe (or Cor) de Chasse. Though France ceased being a monarchy in 1871 following the Franco-Prussian War, the old aristocratic hunting traditions continued into the early 20th century when this postcard series of over 70 images was produced. This card has a postmark date of 18 Jul 1927 but I believe the photos date from around 1910. In any case, the tromp de chasse is still heard in the Forest of Fontainebleau in the 21st century as the hunt is now a tourist  event. Stay tuned, I have plans for a future story on the tromp de chasse

It is this instrument that gives the horn its accepted American name, French horn, not to be confused with the woodwind instrument, the English horn or the cor anglais as it is known in Britain. Confused? Ask an oboist to explain. 





The French trompe de chasse has a slightly brassier timbre
than the Austrian/German Parforcehorn.
It's a bit longer, pitched a half-step down in D,
and is coiled to allow it to be carried
over the shoulder while riding a horse
or managing a pack of dogs.  
Here is Curée venerie Cheverny -Trompes de chasse.
Wait for the feeding frenzy around 3:40.
{Probably not suited for anyone with a sensitive stomach.}










Music performed by a Trompe de Chasse ensemble was once even popular in French music halls. This act  promoted itself on a postcard with a photo of four members of the Tournée Artistque – Quatuor Hallali de Paris, G. Rochard, directeur. Somehow they combined four trompe de chasse with guitars and mandolins. The card is undated but the style dates to around 1905-1915. 

Sharp eyed readers will notice that in the videos both the trompe de chasse and the Parforce horn are held without placing a hand in the bell. They are called "natural horns" because there are no valves and, in fact, the bell can be held to either the right or left according to the player's choice without changing the sound quality. Some earlier horns were often so large that it was too awkward for a player to do that anyway. 

The most common question asked of horn players is, "Why do you put your right hand in the bell?" The smaller shape of the Waldhorn lets the player use the hand, or really fist, as a kind of mute or stopper to flatten the pitch in order to achieve a full chromatic scale. This was easier to do with the dominant right hand and made a horn more comfortable to hold. For these reasons the modern horn is deliberately made a tiny bit sharp so that the hand must be kept in the bell in order to play in tune and occasionally "stop" the bell for a echo-muting effect. 




This carte de visite photograph is a portrait of a young boy, maybe age 13 to 16, holding a horn with three rotary valves. His name is unknown but the photographer was Herr L. Schmidt of Langestrasse No. 35 in Waren a spa town the state of Mecklenburg-Vorpommern, Germany. The rounded corners and thin card stock are a cdv style from the early 1870s so this is one of my oldest examples of a horn player. His long suitcoat gives him a maturity more than his years, I think. Was he a student musician or a young professional? If you could work in the coal mines at age 14, you could certainly hammer out music in an opera theater pit.




In the early 19th century advances in machine tooling inspired an important new invention for brass instruments—the valve. In Germany, instrument makers developed a quarter turn rotary mechanism, while in France, a sleaved piston design was favored. Both valve types were applied to horns and trumpets which enabled a valve actuated by a player to instantly redirect the air stream carrying the sound waves down an extra length of tubing. After many years of speculative designs instrument makers decided that just three valves of different lengths offered enough combinations to produce a full chromatic range for a brass instrument without any difference in sound quality. This invention created a new age in music for brass instruments. Even some trombonists joined the bandwagon, abandoning their slides for valves. 




In this larger cabinet card photo from the 1890s a man with a splendid mustache and fancy embroidered uniform holds a horn with three piston valves. This was the style favored by hornists in France, Belgium, and Britain too. Yet this man was photographed in Michigan. In the lower right corner is an embossed mark for the photographer,  Will H. Foot of Frlint, Michigan. The horn player's cap has his band's name stitched on it: Campbell F.C.B. which probably stands for the leader of the Flint City Band.




This next portrait is a horn player with another impressive mustache who struck an unusual pose for the camera by raising his left leg up onto a box and resting his horn on his thigh. He is dressed in a formal tailcoat with a black bowtie, so he looks like a professional musician to me. His horn has three rotary valves but the layout of its plumbing is unusual as it reverses the more common arrangement of valves and extra crooks by moving them to the backside of the horn with the main tuning slide on the front. I find the layout weirdly unsettling, like a British right-hand drive car. 

This boudoir size cabinet photo was taken by George Harrison of Orange, New Jersey. 




Analyzing brass plumbing is a habit most horn players acquire. We carefully trace the twists and turns  of tubing searching for the click-click of water condensed inside the horn. We compare the valve action, test the braces, inspect the diameters of slides on different instruments. Even with only 3 valves, the number of different horn designs can be quite varied. For many decades there was a strong rivalry, often a clash of nationalities, between the piston and rotary systems. In this photo we see three different horn layouts presented by three U. S. Army bandsmen. This photo postcard is unmarked but their uniforms with full trousers and leggings and wide brim hats are from the First World War era. The soldiers stand with another soldier on the left who is,  I think, their band's chief musician. 



The hornist on the left has a French or maybe British style piston valve instrument which comes with a separate coil of tubing, a crook, that connects the mouthpiece to the main body of the horn. This crook could be exchanged for a larger or smaller one to change the key of the instrument. Generally by this decade the standard pitch for a horn was in F, but E, E-flat, and D were not uncommon. The bell flare of this horn is also a bit smaller and narrower than the other two.

The center horn player's instrument has three rotary valves just like the hornist on the right, but the pattern of his horn matches a design of a little known German-American brass instrument maker named Reinhard A. Kaempf & Son. This small shop operated in New York City from 1873 to 1911. A few years ago I bought an antique horn identical to this one just because it's an unusual brand with distinctive features unlike other horns. 

The older man on the right, surely the principal horn, has a German style rotary valve horn with the valves on the top and tuning slide below. He has sergeant stripes and may be regular army. 

All the horns in the previous photos are called single horns since they are all in one key, usually F. Uncoiled they are approximately 15 feet long including additional valve crooks. But in modern times instrument makers developed new compact ways to add more plumbing and invented the so-called double horn in F and B-flat. This horn is around 22 feet long with the valve crooks and is the prevailing horn design which is now played around the world. (Except in Austria where orchestras like the Vienna Philharmonic still put their confidence in the traditional single horn.) 



Compared to cornets, trumpets, trombones and tubas, portraits of horn players or horn ensembles are uncommon to rare. It's never been a popular brass instrument perhaps because in band music the horn is an alto voice that gets few solos to shine. However in orchestral music the horn's versatile range and wide dynamics make it the dominant voice in the brass section. Generally a symphony orchestra requires four horns, though sometimes eight or more are needed for very large pieces, while three trumpets and three trombones are sufficient for most orchestral music. 

In this postcard photo we see a proper horn section from an orchestra with a token trumpet player in the center.



The two horns on the left are single horns but have an extra valve operated by the left thumb to add a useful half-step extension. The far left is a horn in F/E-flat and the center left is in B-flat/A. 



The two horns on the right are double horns. The center right one is in F/B-flat with and an extra fifth valve for muting. It has the smaller B-flat crooks on top which is the reverse of how most modern horns are arranged with the F side on top. The far right is a compensating horn in F/B-flat which would be typical style played by a principal horn. Today many principal players use a triple horn in F/B-flat/ high  F which gives security for playing high notes. But they come with at least seven valves which adds another set of fingerings to learn and make the instrument significantly heavier.

The trumpet player's instrument is just a standard B-flat with three rotary valves which was the style used by German and Austrian players a century ago and which continues in our time now.

The postcard has no marks for identifying  the five musicians or dating them but the photographer left an imprint on the back of Hofphotograph Gottmann of Heidelberg, Germany. His full name was Ernst Gottmann (1874–1932) and he operated a studio in Heidelberg from 1889 to 1928 with a specialty in portraits and architectural photography. The print style of this postcard looks 1920s to me, certainly  pre-WWII. Heidelberg, a celebrated university town, has a long history of symphony orchestras and opera that dates from 1839.  




My final vintage photo is a quartet of horn players whose names and location are unknown. They are posed outdoors, perhaps at a theater's cafe. Their horns are placed in an X with crossed mouthpieces and bells on the ground. It's a wonderful photo of four close colleagues, friends who likely worked together many years playing beautiful music. Though it's hard to see all of the horns, at least three are double horns. I'm fairly sure they are German musicians from around 1910-1920. 

Judging by their expressions and posture, I believe the grey haired man seated right is the first horn. His wingman would be the second horn who would sit next to him in the orchestra (which is my position, too). Initially I thought it might be the bearded fellow seated left, but I've changed my mind and now think the tall man standing is the second horn; the short fellow standing left is the third; and the bearded man is the fourth horn, the foundation in any horn section. Their comradery is typical of how musicians feel after playing a big concert or ending a season. Usually there would be a pint of beer or a glass of wine in the picture. Perhaps it commemorates the departure or retirement of one of the horn players. We may never know but it doesn't diminish the artistry of the photo. 




Many years ago my father took a picture of a young horn player marching in a parade for the annual Oyster Bowl football game held in Norfolk, Virginia. That kid is me. 

I was in my sophomore year in high school. The uniform was brand new for the band with a white tunic thing covering a dark green polyester suit. The tall shako came in only two sizes: too small and too big. The outfit replaced an old 1950s wool uniform that smelled of decades of teenage sweat and drycleaner deodorizer. 

My instrument was a single horn that my mother purchased for me when I was in 4th grade and we lived in Frankfurt, Germany where my father, an officer in the U.S. Army, was stationed. My first choice was an alto saxophone, but the saxophone's keys were complicated while the horn looked easier to play. We only stayed there a year and a half before my dad was transferred to Munich. The few music lessons I had taken in Frankfurt were not very productive and being a stubborn kid I balked at getting a new teacher in Munich. Little did I, (or my parents) know then that I was living in the center of my instrument's cultural history. That might have been the end to my interest in music but when we moved to Virginia my mother found a succession of two excellent teachers who lit the musical spark. Playing the horn became fun. It still is. 




That horn now hangs on the wall of my studio and I still play it occasionally for students. Years ago I removed the valves to turn it into a Waldhorn like the one held by the old hornist from 1898. Not only does it let me demonstrate hand horn technique but I can also show how rotary valves work too. Even some of my professional colleagues have never taken apart a valve.

The horn I play professionally is a British made double horn that is now an antique, too, having been my musical tool for 34 years. Earlier this year a colleague took a rare action shot of me during a rehearsal of the Asheville Symphony Orchestra where I am second horn. Now I join my collection of vintage horn players. Thanks for letting me share some of my old friends with you today. 





According to the official Google Blogspot counter, this is the 700th post for my blog. I don't have a count for the number of photos I've written about, but I feel certain it is many, many more than 700. As I discovered soon after I started my blog, TempoSenzaTempo—TimeWithoutTime, in December 2009, it is finding the story hidden behind an old photograph that really motivates me to write about a forgotten age of music and culture. I'm still collecting photos and feel certain I have enough right now to easily make 1001 posts. (And yes, Peter, I still have a plan for a book, too)

I am especially indebted to Alan Burnett whose Sepia Saturday digest has been a source of inspiration for me and countless fellow bloggers who love the sepia magic of old photos. I know it is the delight we take in telling our own stories and the enjoyment of reading other people's tales of long ago families and friends that keeps us blogging. Thanks for sharing.










This is my contribution to Sepia Saturday
where everyone is out for a ride on their bike.






Up the Hill, Down the Vale

04 May 2024

 
In olden times
horsepower was measured 
by teams of four-footed steeds.
Fueled by hay, barley and oats,
horses once provided people
with dependable transportation
pulling wagons and coaches
over impressive distances
and sometimes challenging terrain.






In our modern times
horsepower has come to mean
something different,
a number defined by engine size
and noxious fuels.
Motorized wagons and coaches
can now carry people farther and faster.
Yet the thrill of travel
still comes down to geography.






Today I present a trip to a remote and exotic place
that has always attracted visitors curious about
its beautiful scenery and warm hospitality,
and one especially steep road.







This colorized postcard shows the Lynton & Minehead Coach at the Ship Inn in Porlock, England. Four white horses are hitched to a handsome stagecoach with at least ten, maybe twelve passengers perched on top. They are stopped outside a celebrated coaching inn at the small village of Porlock in Somerset, England situated on the southern coast of the Bristol Channel. It is about 1½ miles from the sea, though a thousand years ago it was right on the water. The village is about 17 miles east of Lynton and 6 miles west of Minehead. 

I found this postcard when I was looking for another card to add to an order from a postcard seller in Britain. I've always been fascinated by how people used to travel before the age of the automobile and photo postcards of British horse-drawn coaches are not common to find from American postcard dealers. As I soon discovered though, there are hundreds of similar postcards of Porlock's Ship Inn that are all nearly nearly identical except for the the color of the horses. For centuries the narrow road outside the inn has forced photographers to stand in about the same place in order to fit the coach and horse in the camera frame.


This postcard was sent from Weston-super-Mare on 16 October 1907 at 9:15 PM.




Just to wish you a
very happy birthday
&   many of them
Love from
        Mab



The Shipp Inn is situated on the A39, the main road into and out of the village. Unseen behind the photographer, the landscape ascends to Exmoor, a hilly open moorland, now a national natural park, that covers much of west Somerset and north Devon in southwest England. The road to Lynton goes up Porlock Hill which is infamous as the steepest A-road in Britain, (the A signifies a primary roadway in the UK, B roads are minor and for local traffic.) From the Ship Inn the A39 climbs 1,300 ft (400 m) in less than 2 miles (3.2 km) with a gradient of 1 in 4 (25%) in many places. 

In this postcard's bird's eye view, we see a horse-drawn coach filled with people descending the hill. It looks like there are two wagons but I think they are linked together with the second one acting as a brake. The road takes a sharp bend at the bottom of the picture where there is a small space for an emergency pullout. 

This card was sent from Porlock on 26 October 1910 at 7 AM.



                                    I am so awfully sorry we
                        have missed the post this
                        morning.  We forgot to post
                        the letters last night.  How
                        dreadfully sad about poor
                        old Mr Spence  I am so very very
                        sorry a for her too it will
                        be awful for her they were so much
                        to one another.  I am just going to 
                        write to her.  It is not very fine but
                        may clear up later.  Love from 
                                                H. L.










The Ship Inn is one of the oldest hostelries in England with a history going back to the 1400s at least. In earlier centuries it was sea routes and ships, not roads, that really connected people in the British Isles. Porlock, like many fishing villages along England's remote southwest coast, became known for its connection to smuggling and the Ship Inn often served as a haven for black market contraband. 

On this undated photo postcard a coach parked outside the Ship Inn is hitched to six dark horses. The trip from Lynton to Porlock only needed four horses, but for a return going up Porlock Hill, an extra pair was required. Notice the boy, the postillion, astride the front left horse. Even a good driver needed help handling that kind of horse power. To accommodate these coach horses the Ship Inn had a suitably large stable.



This next colorized photo has a coach with four bay horses arriving at Ship Inn. To the right is the stable's hostler ready with a step ladder for passengers to use. There are at least four outside benches atop the coach that look to be between 9 to 12 feet above the dirt road. I don't think there were seat belts. The coach also has an enclosed compartment that presumably was for first class and surely cost extra. 

This card has a postmark of 17 November 1905 at 10 PM from Taunton, Somerset.



Have I ever sent you
this before. Isn't 
it sweet.  It is the
coach we rode on
to Lynton.  Passed
this inn on the 
(?)day.  bid the lo46-
(?)arrone.. Sorry not
have sent it before
                Olive







In the early 19th century more visitors came to Porlock for holidays on the coast or for hunting trips on Exmoor. The road from Lynton to Porlock, that later  became the A39, was first opened in 1843 but the steep hill must have been a deterrent to many tourists and the commercial trade so a few years later an enterprising local landowner decided to build an alternate road and charge a toll. This 4.2-mile scenic route, which offers panoramic views of Bristol Channel, has a lower gradient of 1 in 14 (7%). Surprisingly after it was built most horse-drawn wagons used Porlock Hill instead since it was free. However once motorcars became the new horseless carriages, the toll road proved a good deal as most early automobiles were too underpowered for Porlock Hill's steeper slope.

In this illustration three automobiles and a charabanc, an open-top motor coach for tourists, creep up or careen down Porlock Hill. The road appears to be unpaved with a dirt or gravel surface. The postcard has no postmark but the car styles look early 1920s to me. 







Dear John,
    This is a "bend" on one
of the hills we had to push
our bicycles up.  When
we were at the bottom
an old country man told
us "It be moil–n–arf
long," but we 
had to plod
along for about
3–n–arf miles
before we could
remount the faithful
steeds.  We are at Lawrence's
cottage now and the weather
has brightened up.
It has been hot 
and sunny to-day
Love from us all   Sylvia

P.S.  Please keep these cards for the album.

_ _ _



In this next photo postcard of Porlock Hill a single motor coach with luggage strewn on its top drives up the slope and there are clearly ruts in the road. The hill has been the cause of countless accidents. Along the narrow road there are two escape lanes to handle runaway vehicles that suffer brake failures. This card is postmarked 20 July 1927.
 




My last postcard is another colorized bird's eye-view photo captioned, "The Steep Gradient of Porlock Hill (1 in 4)". The road is paved with center marking lines as two automobiles follow a bus. A house with a front garden is just on the edge of a bend in the road, no doubt serving occasionally as an emergency safety net. 

This postcard was sent from Minehead, Somerset on 9 May 1956 at 8:30 PM to P.C. & Mrs. Rands of the village of Crick in in West Northamptonshire near Rugby. 



Wednesday
    We are having a lovely
holiday & enjoying the 
beautiful scenery.  I think
you will remember this
hill.  We came down it
in the old car but sighed
with relief when we got to the
bottom.  The weather today
is dull & rainy but up to 
now its been warm &
sunny.
            Kindest regards
            B & D Pattison


I have never been to Porlock or Exmoor but I have driven many times in just about every other part of the British Isles. It began many years ago when my bride and I set off from London for a honeymoon trip to the Hebrides off western Scotland. Until that day after our wedding I had actually never driven a car in Britain and I was far more nervous about driving than about getting married. And at the time my wife had never needed to drive car. However she did know the rules of British roads from cycling experience. (Her first driving lesson was behind the wheel of my Toyota truck, manual shift, on Georgia roads.) 

I soon learned several things about British roads. First, as best as I can tell, there are no straight roads anywhere that can go more than 5 or 10 miles without encountering a roundabout. Second, while traffic on motorways can be very fast, on the minor B-roads it is usually very, very, slow. And incredibly narrow. The big island of Britain is approximately 600 miles from the tiptop of Scotland to the southern Channel coast of England but driving that distance is not like an equivalent distance in America. In Britain every route is filled with twists and turns that require an expert navigator to figure out. Fortunately I married one. The beauty of roundabouts is that you can go round as often as you like until deciding which road to take, 

I presently live in western North Carolina, one of the mountainous regions of the United States, where our minor roads are both pretty twisty and often steep. But I can't think of any road that has a 1:4  gradient or is as celebrated on postcards as much as Porlock Hill and the Ship Inn have. I think these charming cards are all about the romance of adventure travel. It's one thing to brag about seeing a beautiful tropical beach or visiting a magnificent palace. But not many people can say I've driven, ridden, or walked up/down Porlock Hill and have the postcard to prove it. 

Promoting tourism is partly about making myths that linger on in collective memory. The original roadmakers in Porlock were probably only trying to save money by eliminating a few switchbacks. They'd be amazed to learn their precipitous road continues to captivate the imagination of British drivers today and still provide a cheap thrill just as it once did for tourists traveling on open stagecoaches. 



Porlock  
by Robert Southey (1774 – 1843)

 

                    Porlock! thy verdant vale so fair to sight,
                    Thy lofty hills which fern and furze imbrown,
                    The waters that roll musically down
                    Thy woody glens, the traveller with delight
                    Recalls to memory, and the channel grey
                    Circling its surges in thy level bay.
                    Porlock! I shall forget thee not,
                    Here by the unwelcome summer rain confined;
                    But often shall hereafter call to mind
                    How here, a patient prisoner, 'twas my lot
                    To wear the lonely, lingering close of day,
                    Making my sonnet by the alehouse fire,
                    Whilst Idleness and Solitude inspire
                    Dull rhymes to pass the duller hours away.


Robert Southey (1774 – 1843) was an English poet of the Romantic school, one of the so-called Lake Poets, and was Britain's Poet Laureate from 1813 until his death. Among many things he wrote was the first published story of "Goldilocks and the Three Bears". He also visited Porlock and probably stayed at the Ship Inn where he enjoyed a pint or two of ale by its fire. 







In our wonderful modern era 
we can experience riding up Porlock Hill
from the comfort of our own computer screen.
Here is Extreme Hill Climb: Exmoor Coaster up Porlock Hill
filmed from the front of the coach by OrsomM.
For a thrill watch out for marker 4:28 when the driver
encounters an oil slick on a steep curve.








This is my contribution to Sepia Saturday
where everyone is taking the bus.




nolitbx

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