THE CHINA MAIL, DECEMBER 5, 1939
THE "DRY" HUMOUR
OF MOTORING
"So," said the Old Motorist, "all this talk in Parliament about the juice has just ended in gas."
I reminded him that this was not the first occasion upon which political controversy had so terminated. Indeed, his talk carried me back with a bound to the memorable years when war was more than talk and most of our cars were locked up "for the dura- tion."
They were sad times; but even in the fateful years of 1914-18, they were not wholly a new experience. The pioneer motorists knew well enough the meaning of the "empty tank." Few were the merchants of those days who could sell him petrol by the wayside. Precarious was his situation if his tank ran dry and the town was far
away.
Sometimes one enjoyed strange good luck in such seemingly dire predica- ments. I recall an early drive from London to the North and "dead stop" some twelve miles from Roy- ston. The nearest depot was at New- market, also twelve miles distant. Our tank, we discovered, was as dry as a Sergeant-Major's tongue. There was not a house in sight.
SAVED-BY HALF A TIN Slowly and sadly we made up our minds that one of us would have to walk those weary miles and to return to us as best he might. So the man who "lost the toss," set out bravely while the rest of us sat down to play "cut throat" under a hedge.
Then hey, presto, the miracle! A little Darracq car loomed up on that lone horizon; the figure of a solitary man gradually to took shape,
He stopped willingly at our signal, for those were the days of a real fraternising among motorists. Had he got any spare petrol? we asked in chorus. Yes; he had one spare tin and he would give us half of it. Oh, splen- did fellow! Surely, the figure of St. Nicholas should have been knocked out of some stained glass window ana that of this unknown Samaritan put in its place! This was a happy experi-
The return of gas-driven cars reminde
SIR MAX PEMBERTON
of early days on the road, when empty tank was a minor tragedy
an
•
"Excelsior" would have been butcher- ed on the spot!
For twelve long hours, we just sat there, trying to dodge a terrible nor'- caster and reflecting bitterly that man- kind was doomed to death if not dam- nation. It must have been about seven o'clock next morning when a jolly old farmer appeared in a cart and point- ed out to us that there was a rivulei not two hundred yards from the scen of our vigil. Such moments, surely. are too profound for words.
If petrol and water thus continued to be nightmares for some years after the coming of the car, tyres were also an enduring peril. About the year 1909, I drove in a friend's sixty horse-pow- er Mercedes from Paris to Bayonne. The engine was one of great power, but so crude was the clutch that the back wheels used to dig holes in the ground every time we started up on a gravel road.
Knowing this habit, my friend pro- vided himself with no fewer than eight covers for this particular jour- ney. He had used them all up when we were still 'ten miles from Bayonne and we finished our journey at eight miles an hour upon four covers stuff- ed with straw. As each of the eight covers had cost twelve pounds, the journey cost us £96 in tyres alone. Assuredly was "big" motoring not cheap in those days.
GAS BALLOONS—AND PETROL!
When war came at length, most of us were compelled to lay up our cars. Two years passed before experiments to convert low volatile anthracites and low temperature cokes into economic fuel were moderately successful, A few people tried to run their little Not so happy, however, was a jour-electric cars, but the difficulties of get- ney to Edinburgh in one of those littleting the batteries charged proved steam-cars which, for a season, chal-practically insurmountable.
ence.
lenged the claims of petrol. The car- riage was very small and very crazy. It had neither hood nor screen and its thirst must have been that of the fam- ous Roger, the monk, who, it will be remembered, used to try and "lap up the Rhine,"
Finally
we had "gas," and staunch patriots delighted to put balloons on the roofs of their limousines and thus to con- vince the multitude that they were helping to win the war.
But were they all "true patriots?" One jolly fellow, who drove me to the neighbourhood of a golf course, was quite frank about it. "I'm doing good work for the Government," he said, "but I must have my car. So, old boy, that balloon just contains the pure air of heaven while I have ten gallons of juice in my tank. Good idea, isn't it?"
12 HOURS IN THE COLD Twenty miles from York, this abominable contraption chose to run out of water and to leave us stranded on a heath, which was obviously wild and surely "blasted." Shakespeare, however, was less in our minds than the terror of the coming night. No human being could we discover upon As he was giving me a lift, I ге- all that wild waste. Though darkness frained from expressing any opinion, was fast falling, a man who had cried never having been much of a walker.
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