ROUND ABOUT

Bay of Plenty Beacon, Volume 2, Issue 144, 8 April 1940, Page 5

ROUND ABOUT

(By Aitchel) That very loud crash heard on Wednesday did not mean that the foundations of some Whakatane building had failed to withstand the urgings of nature. (We had :! shock the same day). Of course Whakatanians arc so used to shocks —Hound About included —-that they just went 011 their various ways., They failed to detect a tearing anil swearing mingled with the crash. We heard it. We investigated. We have a lot in common wit'i the police, we have. Now, taking the individual ingredients for what promises to be anything but s\ Maupassantish short story, we have a 1939 car of a popular make, a Maori (who is anxious for a driver's license), a Traffic Inspector (we are not allowed to mention names), and, lastly, a cattle dog (of a popular make). The scene was the Hillcrest Road, the testing ground for budding Campbells and future Speed limit non-observers aiul tlie \ime was . . • well, that .do-- not concern us. Ride Along, Little Doggy. Let us go for a ride with the Maori and the T.I. Incidentally, we arc in the hack seat with ths ■ dog. We Jiave sunk pretty low. Naturally, being extremely anxious to obtain that license, and know ing that to impress the T. 1., witlt a manner all care and caution would go a long way towards it, our Maori friend approached the hill With respect to everyone and everything: we crawled gently Hp in the lowest gear. Comrade Hofi even steered between the corrugations—and that's saying something. However. When Ave reached the first berict (the 198 th counting from Ohope) the T.I. commanded friend Maori to stop. Quite a normal procedure in tlie testing btfsiness, and one which should occasion little concern . . . ordinarily. Our embryo Eyston dufifully halted the 'bns and placed the gear-lever in the neutral position, So far, so good. All is well that ends well, salaam sahib, s'alntaris mortis (my Latin is rather rttsty) and so' forth. The Wagon Wheels Kept Turnirt ,r Our friend even applied 'he bra fees. The trouble w/ts, though', that the? brakes' didn't work. Have you gasped? Explanation is that the brakeswere of the hydraulic order and they forgot either to hyd or tot raulie. The car responded well to- the law of gravity; or it may have been, the water in the radiator finding its lowest' level. Whatever the scientific explanation the popular make was doing its best for the bottom of the hill. With all three eyes strained through tlie rear window our friend the Maori conned the car and con-* tents in the rough direction of Clifton Road's wide open spaces - .- A slight error of Judgment, quite pardonable in the circumstances, resulted in the wide open spaces being given the go-by and accommodation found in that lovely wattle tree which shades the dust of the roadside. Colour Complex. The Maori did not turn on the ashen face act. According to him ever3'thing was red; the car, the brakes, the road, the tree, everything in fact* bar the Traffic lnrspector. You see, he was still hopeful about that license. What was the curtain? Well, the T. 1., though impressed by the chappie's handling of a difficulty a very difficult, situation, had no desire to discuss business. What he wanted w r as quiet and rest, and, perhaps, a tablespoonful of Bidomak. He stepped out of the wreckage and choked as he saw his nice blue uniform covered with dust and w'attle seeds.; He choked again as he shook him-« self clean and the clouds sailed Heavenwards. The Maori has not yet got his license. And the dog. Yes, the dog. He was still sitting on the back seat . . . and he Taughed, if dogs can laugh. More dust clouds rose as he cheerfully thumped the seat with his bushy tail and his eyes pleaded for more. He did not get such fun every day. And his tongue w r as not in his cheek as he registered his mute appeal. His expressions, like those of the probationary driver and the examiner, were as yet like this chronicle —genuine.