In the strange towns and cities I wandered through, the only place for me to go was the saloon.

I was no longer a stranger in any town the moment I had entered a saloon.
And right here let me break in with experiences no later than last year.
I harnessed four horses to a light trap, took Charmian along, and drove for three months and a half over the wildest mountain parts of California and Oregon.

Each morning I did my regular day's work of writing fiction.
That completed, I drove on through the middle of the day and the afternoon to the next stop.

But the irregularity of occurrence of stopping-places, coupled with widely varying road conditions, made it necessary to plan, the day before, each day's drive and my work.

I must know when I was to start driving in order to start writing in time to finish my day's output.