The Sun 42 WYNDHAM STREET, AUCKLAND SATURDAY, MARCH 16, 1929 PALADINS OF SPEED

Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 614, 16 March 1929, Page 8

The Sun 42 WYNDHAM STREET, AUCKLAND SATURDAY, MARCH 16, 1929 PALADINS OF SPEED

WITH its unhappy sequel in the death of Lee Bible, ail obscure " garage proprietor who seems to have had no special qualifications for the risky job he undertook, the achievement of Major Segrave in setting a new speed record to the credit of British designing, British craftsmanship and cold British courage, has been followed by the usual controversy and the usual wellmeant protests against the reckless business of speed driving. Apart from its tragic aftermath, Segrave’s feat commanded a conspicuous place in the week’s news for several reasons. It recaptured from American hands the highest honour of motordom, and it did so in emphatic fashion with a margin of 20 miles an hour above the former record. Further, the Englishman’s skill and daring were rewarded in a manner that almost brings record-breaking parallel with pugilism as a gilded sport. Segrave holds a valuable cup and draws £I,OOO a year so long as he holds the record. This comes about through the generosity of an English oil magnate, and though it may uncharitably he asked whether it is the oil magnate or the motor-driver who is getting the better publicity, it remains obvious that it is much more satisfying to he the winner of such guerdon than merely the donor.

A gold cup and a handsome income are always worth racing for—always magnetic inducements to the best that valour and determination can offer. Yet treasure or pelf is rarely the real inspiration of the racing driver. There are poor and needy men who would not do what Segrave did, or attempt what the unfortunate Lee Bible died in attempting, for the riches of Golconda or the resources of a millionaire. And there are men who would do just the same thing for nothing hut the thrill of it. Speed is in some men’s blood. A man will shudder at the thought of entering a football scrum and yet he a cold, steadyeyed automaton if placed at the wheel of a racing car. So, whether their practices are sanctioned or not, the devil-may-cares to whom speed is life will still pursue their virile, exhilarating game. Experts are divided upon the practical value of such efforts as Segrave’s as contributions to the commercialised science of car-building. It is argued that the limit of speed now reached so far transcends the modest requirements of ordinary motoring that it stands exaggerated and out of perspective. Even those who condemn the excessive speeds of to-day, however, are forced to admit that it was the motor-racers of the past who tested under stress of violent performance the improvements and refinements that are standard practice on the modern low-priced car. It is claimed that Lockhart’s death at Daytona Beach last year drew attention to a new principle of steering, and Segrave’s Golden Arrow has completed the triumph of the streamlined racer. But before the days of these contemporary paladins of speed there were racing drivers——a host of them—who worked hand-in-hand with designers in introducing innovations that revolutionised the motor-car.

Italian, American, French, English—hard as nails, absolutely fearless, and with nerves of steel; —these princes of the road and the racing track played a part in the evolution of the motor-car that no motorist can in justice overlook. There was Barney Oldfield, who collaborated with Ford in the racing business before the days of Ford’s first “gasoline buggy.” After a longcareer, Oldfield is still driving, though half his contemporaries in the old days were snatched away by sudden death. There was C. S. Rolls, the son of a British peer, who in 1900 attained a speed of 37 miles an hour, the highest speed ever attained in Britain. Guided by his racing experience, he absorbed definite convictions concerning car-building, and after that came the patrician Rolls-Royce—the outcome of a conversation in a railway train.

Later years brought other drivers—the aristocratic Zborowskis, father and son; and the Americans, de Paolo and de Palma. The success of four-wheel brakes on small Continental racing cars first drew attention to their reliability, and led to their adoption by British and American builders. ’ Similarly a host of improvements in carburetion and ignition owe their success to the trials on the tracks.

Onlookers at car races, like the unfortunate photographer at Daytona, have never been immune from disaster. There have been repeated instances of runaway cars mowing down bystanders in a dreadful swathe. With the tragedies of the drivers and the spectators, some of the great racing tracks of the world, such as Indianapolis and Monza, are stained with blood. Even in New Zealand the onlooker has paid the price. Yet there is no disposition of the public to abjure motorracing Here, as elsewhere, at Muriwai Beach as at Milan and -brooklands, it holds its appeal to eye and imagination. The joy of a pageant of thrills overrides personal fears and physical nervousness. It is all rather primitive, yet affords a sidelight on human impulses. Segrave, we now learn, has decided to retire rrom motor-racing, and Campbell is about to follow him. But there will be other challengers to take their places, and crowds to watch the meteors of the future, in spite of all the sighs and shudders of those who know not the lure of speed.