THE PETROL RATION

Press, Volume LXXXIV, Issue 25428, 26 February 1948, Page 6

THE PETROL RATION

TOUGH HERE, EASY THERE

(Specially Written for “The Press.”) (By G. W. WESTENRA.)

Although adversely affected by the new rationing scheme, I have to admit that the coupon system is the only fair one. Under the recent retailing arrangement, hoarders (to be despised in any conditions, peace or war) made the supply position impossible. Like all control systems this one will of course produce its inequalities. I have in mind the case of a family, Pa, Ma, and Susanne, who have three cars, large, medium, and small, in the ornamental garage behind the tennis court. On Monday morning they will collect their coupons and over their evening sherry calculate that by pooling their petrol and using Susie’s car only, the smart roadster, they will be able to cover at least 810 miles in each month. “How perfectly divine,” says Susie, as she reaches for the decanter. “Then we will still be able to go to the Methven Trots and the dance at Timaru. Lovely!” Then what about Uncle George with his big Straight 8 and Aunt Daisy with her spanking new 12? The big car will go up on the chocks —it always was too long to park outside the club, anyhow—and Uncle George will calculate that, by using his wife’s car only, he will be able to travel 525 miles in each month.

“Must have the small car to-day, old girl. Got to play a bloke at Waitikiri.”

“But, George dear, you can’t possibly. I must get the fish for dinner and, besides, I have a bridge date at

“You can take a No. 9,” says Uncle. “It passes the shop and the Jones’s front gate. I’m taking the small car. See you when I get home after I’ve won the nineteenth. And don’t forget I like my whitebait fried in butter.” Lucky people, distance means nothing to them. But . . . “We do miss the wireless in the big car.” Poor old Grandpa, whose 1934 cus-toms-built petrol-scoffer wont take him far away from Acacia avenue, has to be patient, sit at home, and read about the races.

“Why don’t they publish the blinkin’ dividends? I reckon the barman in the Dog and Duck has paid me she#.-