BY THEIR CARS. . .

Sun (Auckland), Volume 1, Issue 40, 10 May 1927, Page 11

BY THEIR CARS. . .

WHAT OWNERS’ CARS SHOW. REFLECTION OF CHARACTER. Since the psycho-analysts became active, wise men have refrained from discussing their dreams. But wise men buy cars. And, speaking as a doctor with a special interest in the human mind, I begin to think that it is impossible for any man to buy a car which does not, in some subtle fashion, reflect his character, says “Psycho Analyst,” in the Sydney “Daily Telegraph.” When a friend or patient says to me, “Come and see my new ’bus,” I know that I am going to see also the man himself, and to see him in a new and very searching light. For example. I have ah acquaintance who has a wife. The keynote of his existence is, I am afraid, “bother and strife.” He has just purchased a bother-and-strife car. It belongs, that car, to a good family. The breed is excellent, but here we have an example of what the Mende-i lians call a “throw-hack.” This particular member of a respectable family is like the acid-tongued daughter whom all her brothers and sisters hope in their hearts will marry early. In short, that poor man has not only married a wife; he has also taken unto himself a car exactly like her. He expects trouble—and gets it. The last, time I heard of had managed to strip the crown wheel in his hack axle —I gathered through no fault of his own. A Martyr Born. And there, in a bundle of wood anti iron, is his nature. He is a martyr horn—one of those queer folk who enjoy being badgered about. By some uncanny instinct he was led straight to the very car of all its family which was bound to badger him. That, perhaps, is a case with a touch of the mysterious in it, although it is a true case in every particular. Here is a more obvious example. A doctor who practices near me is a genial fellow, who seems entirely incapable of keeping himself tidy. Being a rich man, he bought a , and we, his friends, said that at last he would look a credit to his profession. We reckoned without our human nature. True, the name of the car is called blessed. But what is in a name? The vehicle had belonged before he bought it to another man exactly like himself —one of those men who think in copper wire. You may see that supercilious bonnet running along Marquarie Street, and, if you have quick eyes, observe that it has not been secured on one side. You may hear it clank, too, as it goes over the humps. Look a little closer and you will perceive his oily hands on the superb wheel. Stop him and he will say to you:— “My dear old man. I had to leave the little job I was doing on her half done—urgent call, and all that sort of thing.” The “Bedford Cord” Cushion. As likely as not one of the oil bespattered and grimy floorboards will be sitting beside him on the “Bedford cord” cushions. And yet, to hear that man change gear is a delight—only you never do hear him. With what a genial movement of the wrist he can go “up” or “down,” so that the ecstatic pinions seem almost to laugh with joy. I would buy a car he had driven for five years and expect to find every movable part unscratched. But I would fit an entirely new body—and sell the copper wire. And there is the man. Need I tell you more about him? One final instance. A lawyer who suffers from what Shakespeare called “leanness of the blood.” He bought a new light car with a “very like a coupe” body. It is a good little car—from the driver’s point of view. The rest, as a friend of mine put it, is “mostly dickey.” I never saw a vehicle with so much accommodation in “the dock” and so little on “the bench.”

If you had listened to that man discussing his professional work you would he thrilled to the very bones by the sight of his car. The first time I saw it there came to my mind the story of the great will case in which a meeting of counsel took place before the court proceedings. Said the senior counsel. “Gentlemen, this is a very valuable estate; I feel :sure that you will agree with me that it would' be a thousand pities to see it frittered away among the beneficiaries.” My lawyer friend possesses a valuable'car. It will not he frittered, away in giving lifts to his friends—or even his family. In fact, as a fellow member of his own profession put it, “the bus looks like his double, only more