Carriage Travel

A few months ago, I attended a seminar at a small college in North Carolina. After the meeting, I set off for Pittsburgh and prepared to attend another meeting. Before leaving, a white-haired old professor told me that there was a forest a mile west of the school. The woods were amazing. So he suggested that I go to have a look. Although I have packed my luggage, I am still very interested in the magical woods that the old professor said. The flight took off at 6 pm and there were 9 hours. I decided to turn around before going to the airport. So, I carried my travel bag and walked into the woods.

The woods are large, deciduous broad-leaved woods, and the trees are full of fiery red and golden leaves. The trees are dense, almost infiltrated by the sunlight, and there are thick leaves on the ground. It‘s strange that there is no one in the woods, not even a bird, and no animals. I walked inside for hours, but I didn’t even touch the end. I wanted to return to the original track, but there was no trace at all. Oh my goodness, I lost my way!

Suddenly, I saw a narrow asphalt road ahead, which was covered by fallen leaves and almost never found. I think there will be cars passing by. Waiting for a long time, when I was about to fall asleep, a carriage slowly came. I hurriedly opened my arms and stopped it, almost got hit. The carriage was black and painted with a brown horse. Sitting in the front row of the carriage, holding the reins in the hand. A white coachman is in his 20s. He is very tall and handsome, and his face is very pale and he has long hair. Wearing a black woollen windbreaker, he looks like a 19th-century British gentleman.

The driver asked me where to go. I said that I wanted to go to the airport. He said that it was already 6 o’clock. I found that I had missed the flight. He asked where my flight was for. I said I was going to Pittsburgh. The coachman said that he would go to Canada and pass through Pittsburgh. He could send me to Pittsburgh. I readily agreed and sat in the back seat of the car. I was separated from him by a piece of glass and I could see the back of his car. He didn’t drive on the road but instead travelled in the uneven woods. The carriage drove very fast, and the tires smashed across fallen leaves.

The carriage has been driving for a long time and I fell asleep. After a while I woke up and saw the sunrise, then came to an open grassland, and the carriage drove through the shallow small and streams, splashing water. The coachman is a silent person and there was no chat between us.

After a long time, the carriage entered a city and I finally saw people again. I saw from the city’s street sign that the city is called Freetown. Freetown is not big. Like other cities in the United States, there is a square high-rise building downtown, but those buildings are only a dozen or so floors’ tall. Compared with other high-rise buildings in large and medium-sized cities, it is a very cute downtown.

The city’s downtown area is small, but it is also like the city centre of a big city. There are squares, fountains and hordes of pedestrians. Although we entered the city centre, the driver did not slow down and did not care about hitting pedestrians or obstacles. This small city is built in a hilly area with a rugged city centre and wide steps.

The carriage ran to a downward step and then rushed down. I rushed to call the driver: “Hey, be careful!” The driver said calmly: “What are you worried about? You didn’t see the carriage using the truck wheel?”

I saw it, it was. The wheel was made of alloy, wrapped in a hard rubber tire with serrations. The wide wheel pressed over the steps, and I could not feel the violent tremor.

The carriage continued to drive along the narrow streets of the city for a while. The driver said: “Male, I am tired, go to the station and take a shower.” I promised.

The carriage stopped in front of a colonial-style two-story spire house, which was a station, a white wall with red tiles and huge floor-to-ceiling windows. I walked into the door of the station with me and I looked around the house. The station was small and complete, with restaurants, bars and bathhouses. The coachman registered at the front desk and told the woman at the front desk that he would lead a person to take a bath. The front desk agreed, and the driver took me in.

I bathed separately from the coachman. Before long, the mist is all over the bathhouse. When I took a shower, I saw a figure coming to me from the fog. The man was wrapped in a bath towel in the lower body, tall and tall, like the coachman. He approached, and I clearly saw that he had an Asian face with a bronzed skin and six-pack abs. He walked straight to me, so I was a little panic. I almost shouted and asked him: “Who are you? What are you doing?”

The Asian looked very surprised and said, “Don’t you want to go to Pittsburgh? Why, don’t you go?”

I asked him with my back sweated: “You are the one who was just the coachman? Who are you?”

“My name is Jim Lau.”

“You are a Cantonese?”

“No, I was born in the United States and my parents are Hong Kong immigrants.”

I am even more surprised.

“Why do you want to disguise yourself as a white person?”

“You know, this is a white country. I don’t make up white people will be robbed.”

I was speechless for a moment, I opened the subject and said, “Can you send me through Washington by the way? I want to go to the capital to have a look.”

“No, Washington is not on the scheduled route. Going to Washington will waste our time a lot,” he said.

Then Jim led me out of the bathhouse, to the bar. Jim ordered me a cocktail. I drank a few mouthfuls. I felt a bit hot, and my ears squeaked. Later, I lost consciousness.

When I woke up, I was already lying in a hotel in Pittsburgh. I later searched the Internet for everything about the coachman Jim Lau, but I couldn’t find any clues. I want to find the woods and Freetown from Google Maps, but I couldn’t find them. It‘s weird.