It was a curious equipage composed almost entirely of metal. Its four wheels were shod in Vulcanized caoutchouc and attached to the body by a complex system of rods and levers. The upper portion had been painted red at some point in the distant past, but was much disfigured by rust. It was roughly box-shaped, with a glassed-in interior cabin approximately one-third of the way along the body. Behind that sat an open-topped space that I surmised was intended for luggage or servants. Its front sported a crude filigree of dark metal ornamented on either side by intricate glass disks.
Oddly, the vehicle had no place for the attachment of horses, nor a coachman's seat at the top. I could only conclude that it was a whimsical fancy, a kind of mechanical folly left to corrode where it sat. Did the creator intend to inspire in the viewer a melancholy awareness that even the incomprehensible must someday decline and decay? I do not know, but that was my final thought as I turned from it and spurred my mare onward. The skywhale would be departing within the hour, and my musings would not get me to the port on time.