ROAD MANNERS.

Hawera Star, Volume XLV, 20 February 1926, Page 13

ROAD MANNERS.

AND THE SOFT ANSWER

HOW TO AVOID ACCIDENTS. The secretary of the British Automobile Association (Major Stenson Cooke) has been broadcasting monthly talks on 1 'Road Manners.” The following extracts from these remarks, although intended for British" people, are equally applicable to New' Zealand road users. Whether we push a pram or a barrow, ride a bicycle, drive a horse or a car, or walk, the road belongs to U 9 all. The road does not belong to any single or separate section of us, but to us all. You think otherwise, and to act upon that thought leads to bad manners. Over 20 years’ work on the road, and for the road, has taught me that nasty accidents, as well as regrettable incidents, arise chiefly from bad manners.

How r well we know the type of inhumanity which will barge through an hotel swung door, or jostle inoffensive people in a queue—just to save an unimportant moment. He is nuisance enough on foot—on wheels he becomes a menace.

Picture, please, for a moment, any old road you know. Plenty of traffic and plenty of room for all decent folk. Oars, cycles, traps coming and going on their lawful occasions.

Somebody—one of the type—still chasing that ridiculous moment pulls out and tries to pass. In doing so he takes someone else’s part of the road. He has done it many times before and it has come off. This time it doesn’t.

Someone else, pursuing the even tenor of his way, resentful, like every good Briton, of aggression, says under his breath: “No, you don’t. You jolly w-ell get back to your proper side. This side is mine, and very often before their respective telepathies can connect, ana Mr Bad- Manners can pull in again—smash! And that’s that. The offender has smashed in haste, and will no doubt repent at leisure, but the lesson is costly. What can we do about it?

At one time or another you have been annoyed by the person who barged through the hotel swing-door, regardless of peaceful you; who kept to the crown of the road and forced you to take til© ditch; who, cycling, kept obstinately in front of you, Mr and' Mrs Motorist, for a mile or so, and wouldn’t turn in to let you go by; who drove past you, Mr and Miss Cyclist, at umpteen miles an hour, and “shaved” you by an inch or two, when he could easily have spared a yard. Oh, yes—you remember. SEEING DAYLIGHT. You feel —don’t you? —that the world would be' better without such people, and you wonder, with me, what we are going to do about it. Well, I think we can see daylight. Our old country prides itself upon a funny old sentiment called Precedent. The particular and pre-eminent Precedent in this case is—Discipline. The, traditional, inherent sense of Discipline of the British Public. There is nothing in the -world to equal it. If you want to see it working, walk into a London tube station at the busiest time of a morning or evening. You will notice on the platform broad white lines—they indicate the spots where the tube cars will stop. You will see people lining up quietly, two by two, behind these fines.

The traditional, intuitive discipline of our race is a source of wonder and envy to the world at large. And rightly so. It is born of common sense, which impels us to appreciate that rules are made for our benefit, and are administered for our comfort, and that to conform to them will make our common pathway easier. We may well hope to see that inherent senes of discipline spread out from tube and street to the open load. It will take time, of course, but it will come.

If example be needed —let me commend you to the London bus-driver. His training must be wonderfully perfect. His road manners are perfectly 1 wonderful. Beside his ponderous machine the typist© may cycle to her work in the sure and certain knowledge that he will never deny her decent riding space, nor wittingly causes her anxiety. To others he is alike considerate and courteous. NEXT MISDEMEANOUR. The road user my get along much more quickly. By the time a sufferer from his conscious or unconscious discourtesy has framed a suitable reply he is well on his way towards His next misdemeanour. He cannot profit by a black look or muttered protest. .It will therefore take longer to educate him. It boils down, then, to this: We must help each other; we must teach each other; we must school ourselves —each, 'everyone —always to give a little, in the hope sometimes to get it back. On foot or cycle, or in a car, without loss of dignity, we can take pattern by our friend the bus-driver. It is a graceful and kindly aqt on the part of a pedestrian to look before he steps on to a road usually full of fast traffic or —having sinned by omis. sion, and having been saved from disaster bv clever driving—to smile an apology instead of looking murder! It is a graceful and kindly act for anyone to help an approaching vehicle near a cross-road or corner by friendly signal, meaning “Look out,” “Something coming,” “All clear,” “Carry on.” It is a graceful and kindly act. as well as a bounden duty, for a driver to spare the nerves of the timid foot passenger, the labour of a plodding draught horse, or the life of a. dog—at the mere expense of an unimportant moment or two. It is graceful and kindly for a driver always to give a cyclist plenty of room.; for a cyclist always to acknowledge the hoot of an overtaking driver by a courteous signal, and for the driver to answer that courtesy by •a friendly “Thank you.” Witli road manners particularly, as with life generally, it’s the little things that count. May I put it to you, Mr. and Mrs., Master and Miss Motorist and Cyclist, that it rests with us to encourage the graceful and kindly and to deprecate the thoughtless and selfish.