MOTORING.

Press, Volume LVIII, Issue 17429, 13 April 1922, Page 4

MOTORING.

(By "SOADSTI3B.")

LOST AND FOUND. THE WELCOME SIGN-POST. Being lost on country roads while motoring at night provides quite a few new and laughable sensations—though one does not usually realise the humorous aspect until one is safely back at home, snugly ensconced in the best easy chair. The first intimation of trouble is when the driver commences to debate whether he spall go to the destination by the longer route, which he knows perfectly, or jaave four miles by taking a short cut through Jonesville. Of course he knows the short-cut route alright, understand that. He admits that he has jnever. actually been over the road. himjself. but then one simply cannot miss tone s way, because there i 9 only the oiie fpad to follow, you see. The rest of Jihe party hasten to state that they "E#e" perfectly, though they really do not), know anything about it, hut everybody has a calm feeling of assurance that they "suppose it will be alright." the junction at which the short c<it route branches off the main road, is reached, the driver slows down, then inaking up his mind for the last time, h?j puts his foot on the accelerator and ; swings the car viciously round the corner. Once round, he becomes quite cheerful afeaift and enlarges pleasantly d>n the wisdom of cutting off four miles. His optimism is infectious and all the'members of the party assure one another that the decision was a wise one. • The advantage of cutting down the time of the trip on such -a cold night is in itself a cause for selfcongratula,"tion. The man who has just arrived frbm Australia tells his neighbours with all the assurance of total ignorancej, that one could not possibly lose his Way on : this road, for it must certainly lead straight to their, destination. • Bejiides, had they not all noticed how much better this* side road was than thalfc wretched main road, with its pot-hdles and ruts? The argument in favour of the short-cut is absolutely clinched by, the driver's wife, who suddenly ■ remembers that she remembers the road perfectly; it curved in and out later on she stated, and <ran alongside the river for some distance. Suddenly the oar comes to a dead stop, accompanied by the grinding of brakes and a few words from the driverwords which one does not hear in the best circles. The glaring beam /from the headlights show that the car is on the brink of a three feet drop intp a river—-a particularly w cold and uninviting looking riverj too. Everyone is so surprised that the passengers forget to rise from the floor where they had been thrown by the jolt in pulling wp, and the driver's wife stops in the; act of reproving' her husband for his "language." . . When the. passengers regain their powers of speech,, there is an 'outburst of-advice on their part, Ttyy point out to the driver, that "that is not the ' way." -He 'should* havje swung round to the •' left. Couldft'w he see [that the road followed the ri-ter round

HOME AttD ABROAD.

to tb6 left? The driver had thought of all this himself, only perhaps a little earlier than the passengers. Still, he restrains himself, vowing at the same time that when next he drives such a party into the country, he will not take his wife with him. There were so many things—nasty, sarcastic things —he w'ished to say to the passengers in the rear seat, but ho could not think sufficiently clearly to put his ideas into the best drawing-room form of conversation. When the car resumes its way, the occupants employ the next few minutes in regaining their mental balance, and regretting some of the things they said. Then some good-intentioned person speaks up and says: "Well, anyway, we must be on the right road, for it winds about and follows the river." Everybody agrees that they must certainly be on the right road, but each is afraid that his doubt is indicated by his voice. There is a long silence, broken only by the driver's remark, in art undertone: "Well, the road docs twist, I'll give ycu that in." Ten minutes' more silence, and then some irresponsible person says, with a nervous laugh: "Wouldn't it be a joke if we were really going east instead of west." The ensuing silence indicates that if it were a joke, it was not the kind one laughed aloud at. A quarter of an hour later the driver mutters, more to himself than to anyone eke. "Hang me if I don't think we are going east. Wish I could find a signpost." This admission is accepted in silence, though there is a secret feeling of resentment against the driver, just as if he, by openly stating what they were all convinced of in their own minds, had actually made it true that they were indeed lost.

''Somehow," savs the recent arrive] from Australia, "I had a 'hunch' all along that this road was in the wrong direction. Not that I know the locality mind you, but when I was 6heepfarming in Queensland I learned . . . but what he learned does not really matter to the rest of the occupants, each of whom has an idea that ha knew from the start that the short-cut would bo no good. 'Tis strange how people get such, firm convictions when ft is too late. Something similar occur* at the races—everybody who failed to back-the winner is convinced that he had had an inclination to do so. Suddenly a white post leaps Into view in the beam from the headlights and the words.inscribed on the notice board are read with an interest which can only be felt, and not described. There is a cheer when it is found that the cross-road leads to the destination, and everyone settles back with a com fortable resignation as the drivei "opens her up" for the last stretch of five miles. The remaining few minutes soon pass, for everyone is busily engaged in telling his neighbour that he knew they were going in the right, direction all the time, but they should have turned off at that side-road he had advised them about, instead of following the river. . The car swaops up the drive or the country homestead - with a triumphant whoop of the horn. The door of the big house is opened and discloses a bright, cheery hail, suggestive o. rooms beyond where there is contort and warmth. "What a time you've been," says the host. ''Did you get lost." "Oh no," the driver airily replies, "just got a bit astray at one corner, but we scon made that up when we struck the road. Guess I've been driving a car long enough to know my way around these parts."—Roadster.