A San Fransisco Carriage Ride Essay, Research Paper The warm summer breeze, combined with the crisp, refreshing smells of the waterfront, created a perfect day for sight-seeing in San Francisco. I parked my car along Thirty-second Street, in an area filled with various specialty shops, so I could easily find it at the end of the day.
A San Fransisco Carriage Ride Essay, Research Paper
The warm summer breeze, combined with the crisp, refreshing smells of the waterfront, created a perfect day for sight-seeing in San Francisco. I parked my car along Thirty-second Street, in an area filled with various specialty shops, so I could easily find it at the end of the day. I gathered my camera and began my journey on foot. I hadn’t walked far before I saw a man perched upon the driver’s seat of a horse-drawn carriage. I thought to myself, “This would be a wonderful way to see San Francisco.” The grand white carriage, in all its glory, seemed to be calling my name. A modern adaptation of the old-fashioned carriages that were built of solid wood – dainty, yet durable; classy, yet sporty – it was almost enough just to stand there in awe. With an open front and a convertible canopy drawn back over the rear seat, it could carry me in comfort and style wherever I wanted to go. In front of the carriage stood a proud-looking sorrel horse with a long black mane and tail. Attached to him were various harnesses and straps that secured him snugly between two long, white poles extending from the front wheel axle beneath the carriage. A set of reins emerged from either side of the strap around the horse’s muzzle and traveled their way through the maze of harnesses until they were securely in place within the hands of the driver. Four large, white wagon wheels – made modern with a black strip of rubber around each wheel – would make it possible for the horse to pull me around in the carriage with ease.
Eager to climb aboard, relax, and be chauffeured through the streets of San Francisco, I approached the carriage. The wing-shaped sideboard made stepping up into the carriage an effortless task. As I melted into the high-backed, Queen-Anne-style bench, I let my hands feel the softness of red velvety seat. Facing me was another seat that looked like a bench seat on a an amusement park ride – not nearly as exquisite as the one that I had made myself at home on, yet the carriage would be incomplete without it. Exhaling a deep breath of relaxation, I settled in for what I knew would be a splendid day. A few minutes earlier, I had been prepared for a day filled with vigorous walking, but not now. The driver, perched high upon his throne at the front, reins in hand, now turned his heat to me, tipped his hat, and said, “Where to ma’am?” I pondered that question for a moment, and then exclaimed, “Everywhere!” With that, the driver nodded with a smile, gave one quick snap of the reins, and we were on our way.
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