SAN FRANCISCO.

Hawera Star, Volume XLVIII, 4 August 1924, Page 8

SAN FRANCISCO.

—— A MOTORISTS’ PARADISE. The telephone in my room in the Whiteombe, Sau Francisco, rang early on Sunday morning, writes T. J. Hendy in the Sydney Morning Herald. My annoyance turned to pleasure when it was announced that lur. Jacobs had bought a new super six car the previous afternoon, and had invited two other Sydneyites, Mr. Frank Say well, and me to accompany him on hi s first long drive. We were soon on the great highway, ‘‘El Camino Real,” which has superseded the original' trail blazed from Mexico before California became one of the United States of America. But we had not the road to ourselves. All San Fransisco seemed to be on wheels. From every debouching avenue car after ear emerged. Soon we were but a unit in an endless procession, in which the cars were separated by only a few yards. The aggregation of cars urns impressive. Machines were there of every size and style and age, from the newest monster limousine, with plate-glass windows, silken hangings, bouquets, and lustrous varnish, gliding silently, to shabby, decrepit contraptions, whose rattle "could be heard afar, and which were apparently about to separate into their constituent parts. An appreciable number of machines were driven by women. Some were decorated with toy balloons streaming from the radiators. Here and there appeared long charabancs, crowded Avith individuals, avlio even in California did not own “buses,” and were reduced to the necessity of taking public vehicles. At rarer intervals Ave were met or passed by huge glassenclosed monstrosities, which run witih passengers between San Jose and San Francisco, or even as far as Los Angeles, 4do miles. So admirable is the road surface the whole Avay that one can travel thither in under 17 hours without change of car, and for about two pounds ten of our money,. As San Francisco is much more coinpact than Sydney or Melbourne, there are fewer of the motor ’bus services to suburbs which are so numerous Avith us, but long-distance organisations running hundreds of miles intb the country are serious competitors Avith the railways. In the cities the horse is almost extinct. One may see a feAv draught horses about the \Adiarfs, though even there the motor lorry abounds, and in back streets occasional Dago fruitvendors still hold to the quadruped. But in the central thoroughfares the horse has no place. The traffic is so systematised to the fast-moving auto, that he Avo.ul.il be in the way. One may walk these streets for days and never see a horse-d.ra.Ayn vehicle.

The predominance of the motor is due to the cheap purchase price—about half that of corresponding machines in Australia —tAventv cents a gallon naphtha (though the gallon is smaller than ours), and to the admirable roads. To an Australian the great main arteries Avhicli take the traffic are a reA r elation. California, with a population of three millions and a quarter, has hundreds of miles of eoncrete-bituminised road surfaces. The problem of the, smooth and impervious roadAvay has been solved)- Avere it not so, bumps, dust, and mud, ■ those objectionable accompaniments of travel with us, Avould render motor journeying a penance, instead of a pleasure, with such immense SAvarms of vehicles. California has one car registered for every three or four inhabitants. Number plates high in the hundreds o'f thousands abound, and Ave saw several over the million. But the very vastuess of the traffic is proving an embarrassment. As Ave Avere returning from San Jose in the evening, Avlien so many thousands were also homeAvard bound, the road became/ gradually so congested that sloav travel was. unavoidable. It Avas virtually impossible, and, indeed, against regulations, in such cases to attempt to pass a ear in front; the speed was regulated by the sloAvest. With this crush of traffic are unavoidable; the chief Avonder is that they are not more frequent. Monday morning papers invariably have a column chronicling the more serious—though, fortunately, few are fatal. A special court, also is devoted every day to motor cases. Several times Ave suav cars A\diich had come to grief. “Wrecking autos,’’ provided Avith a crane and other gear, are ahvays ready, and soon arrive and swing the derelicts to the roadside until their damage can be attended to. An interesting and common roadside advertisement is that of toAving companies, Avliose slogan is, “We towed one from here.” Every feAv miles are stationed special police to regulate and watch the traffic. At congested crossings and intersections they have semaphores for day signalling when road is closed or clear, and coloured lamps at night. Mobile officers on motor cycles assist. The telephone, sometimes pro,visionally attached to the roadside wires, is in constant use. The police communicate to other stations the description of cars Avhieh are breaking regulations by excessive speed, careless driving, or other offence, and the offender is intercepted by a cyclist. Apart from these officials one sees not nearly so large a proportion of motor cyclists, Avith or Avithout side-cars, as with us. As cars can be bought so cheaply, many of those Avho in Australia Avould be content Avith a cyclecar get the real thing. The trade in second-hand, or as the dealers prefer to call them, “used cars,” is enormous. These are repositories Avhere old cars can be bought at ridiculous figures. One secs them in rows, sometimes in the open air, ready to drive aAvay in, and marked as loav as b‘o dollars—sav, £l2. I suav one sign in Van Ness Avenue, a wide and stately thoroughfare, Avhere the motor trade Avas largely concentrated, and the legend thereon ran, “Used cars from eighty dollars; twenty dollars down and two dollars a Aveek instalments.” Who so poor that he need live Avithout a car? Parties about to take a vacation, say a feAv clerks or teachers, often put in a few pounds apiece, buy a used car, travel hundreds of miles in it at their oavu convenience, and at the end of the journey, Avherever it is, sell it for Avhatever it will fetch, or iid extreme cases abandon it. It must not be supposed, hoAvever, that there are no bad roads in California. Off the main tracks they exist. On another occasion Mr. McLurcan, the eminent Australian wireless expert, took me a long drive. Most of the way Avas good, but in places Ave came across unmade patches. Among the hills of Marin County, across the Bay, I found also rough macadamised stretches Avliich Avould not disgrace the reputation, of Parramatta Road. But the surfaces everywhere are being improved as rapidlv as possible. America’s ideal is to make the Lincoln Highway from the Atlantic to the Pacific, doav in course of formation, the model long road of the world. Little space is left to mention the attractive toAvnships and the fertile orchards of the Santa Clara Valley

through which we passed. A feature near the city was the way in which the great cemeteries are laid out; they are veritable parks, with broad ways, and abounding in shrubs and ornamental trees. Their names are vividly outlined in flowers on wide sloping lawns. Further on we passed through delightful residential towns. A happy system is that whereby the name of each is slung conspicuously across the road, as “ Palo/Alto,” or “San Mated,” so that the wayfarer knows where he is. The bungalows which line the roads have no fences, only a bright little lawn with flower plots. The garage is always there, for is it not the most important thing to house the car which the owner uses on his daily trip to business in the city 20 or 30 miles away? Then comes the orchard belt. On each side stretch beautiful, well-cultured spaces, with interminable rows of trees, bearing cherries, pears, apricots, and so on. The remarkable thing is that even these are unfeneed. One sees along this route fruit and flowers quite accessible to the public, and yet neither the hungry small boy nor the predatory flapper seem to touch. In the schools “community spirit” and the rights of property are well inculcated, apparently with success. Another feature was the occasional glimpse of property subdivisions, in which the “Realtors”—as real estate men call themselves—have already had the roads cemented, and the mains laid for water, gas, electric light, and telephone, so that as soon as the house is erected and entered the occupants have the amenities of life at hand.