APPEARANCES ARE DECEIVING

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXV, Issue 22991, 19 March 1938, Page 15 (Supplement)

APPEARANCES ARE DECEIVING

OLICEMEN," said Jimmie r'Frise, " always ought to be in motor-cars; not on motorcycles.'" " The law," I disagreed, " is a game. If you can see a cop on a motor-cycle, it's fair. It is conceded in all civilised countries that cops should not be allowed to hide." "Modern traffic," said Jim, who was watching me steer my car amidst the hot and anxious outward-bound traffic of a Saturday noon, " modern traffic hiik got past the amusement stage. It's a game no longer. Now that the Canadian , speed Emit has been increased from 35 miles an hour on highways to 50 miles, and in cities and towns from 20 up to 30 miles an hour, s strange and grim psychological factor has emerged." " What's that?" I inquired. " When tho law was 35 miles an hour," said Jim, " hardly anybody obeyed it. But the knowledge that we were exceeding the limit gave us all a margin, of . caution. We were alert. Being already guilty of one breach of the law, to wit, going faster than 35, we Vere a little cautious about breaking it in any other way. We were wide awake in the first place for speed cops. We had a guilty conscience, even if only a sub-conscious or semi-conscious guilty conscience. It made us careful,alert."» "I follow you," I confessed. " Now that the law is 50," went on Jim, that guilty conscience has evaporated. Theonly sense of guilt we have is when we are driving less than 60, and we wonder if other drivers are put out with us for not keeping up with the Joneses." ''l believe you're right," I admitted, .stopping slightly on the accelerator to increase my Bpced from 34 to 37. - "Now, a sense of guilt," explained Jim, " is one of the greatest and most humane of civilised forces. It is our general sense of guilt that makes us kindly, tolerant and good-natured to:wai<3 our fellow men. A large blue car swerved angrily past U3 and the lady in the near seat turned and said something bitter to me. I couldn't hear her words, but if I put the right meaning to the shape of her ttouth, that lady is certainly no lady. "See?" cried Jim. "Before the law was changed, her sense of guilt would have prevented her from cursing you. Now she is free to call you names if you aren't'doing at least 50." "Psychology is a funny thing," I Imised. / " No, it's human nature is funny," agonised Jim. " With no need for caution under 50 miles an hour as far as cops are concerned, old rattletrap cars that should not ever exceed 30 miles an hour are going to be going as Hear 50 s»a they can. And every instant they are on the road they are a menaco to human life." '' " There goes one now," I said, as a shabby, old, top-heavy sedan with Harrow tyres of the vintage of 1925, Blithered past us and did a sort of Uiarlie Chaplin skid to get straight on i*be road again. "Then," said Jim, " plenty of drivers of perfect cars, as far as Jneehamsm is'concerned, but who inte.lectmilly are .incapable of driving J? ore then 40 miles an hour —you know, the kind of people who are clumsy and always spilling things and bumping into-things— are going to miss that old fear of cops sorely. Such People really need that fear. Without "' are helpless." liisten to that," I murmured, as a f ar behind rno continued to snort its «orn savagely until 1 got away over *° the side of the road. And when it passed, four furious faces leaned and if'v 'bo windows at me. ion take the young fellow driving ®ne of those rattletrap old cars," said «>no. ' He has, for instance, three other }oung people in the car with him. He . Roing 35, which is all the machine ® capable of without swerving right off hh/ oac '' Wh t>n his companions egg him on to greater speed, he had, heretofore, :,' e excuse thai there is a speed cop ually on the top of tho hill ahead." \V"li l u° w ' w ' in * j excuse can ho offer? j-V 1 , say his car is too poor and sety to risk any moro speed? No j, UI| E man could admit any such thing. anV+u c ' ots he d° ? Ho tries for 50 Ani ■ a( ' n dration of his companions. na pist as be lurches and slithers j tho top of that next hill whom hoof • co "' c l R with or send head over iLu? but n perfectly nice " a carl (lad of children, going Wfs an hour?" 8»;„ ® bad," 1 admitted, as a car by a white-haired old lady Past mo, going about 00. .

"Motor-cycle cop 9, therefore" said Jim, " should be abolished ana police should be equipped with ordinary cars of various makes and colours. So that the motorists never know but what the car behind them or the car coming toward them is police." " Ah," I agreed. " A new hazard. A new fear."

" Correct," said Jim. " And tho police should be most active on the highways, touring day and night at a brisk pace, watching for cutter-ins, hill passers, curve passers; they should pursue and give an official warning to all drivers of old ashcans that were driving at any speed that made them wobble and lurch. Fines for recklessness should never be less than £25 so that for all fools there would be a real terror of coming too fast around curves or attempting to pass, without reasonable distance being given." " We must put some sort or fear into them," I declared, for now we were outside the city and on to a wider strip of road so that the traffic behind, which had been fairly patient, now began to get excited like l>ons at feeding time at the zoo and start to zip and cut and swerve and duck iri their anxiety to get ahead. " What's tho good of their doing that?" demanded Jim. " Don't they realise that there is a line-up for miles ahead of thorn V What good is it going to do them to scare the wits out of you by cutting in ahead of you with two seconds to spare, when they are going to have to keep that up all the way to Muskoka?" " It's a nervous sort of thrill, 1 suppose," 1 said. " It's like gambling. Like roulette. They would go to sleep if they had to drive steadily. Only by hop-scotching around like that do they keep awake." ~ " I wish there were double the cops, said Jim, " and all incognito in plain cars. That would stop those St. Vitus dance drivers. Wo ought to adopt the system of having a bi<* red, enamel patch painted on the back of every car that is convicted of reckless driving. With three patches on vour miles an hour is your absolute limit. You'd feel like a marked man then, and behave." . " Boy, did you see that?" I breathed as two* cars, 'chasing each other at 50 miles an hour, both dived back into the line ahead of us to make way for a big passenger bus coming tearing along in tne opposite direction at 50, too. I had to change gears on account of the sudden stoppage the cutting up of tho two cars ahead had created. Minute bv minute as we got out into the country it grew worse, those who knew the law was 50 nnles an hour

wanted to go 50, and were indignant at ail those who didn't. They kept cutting out and in and charging ahead until in a little while the congestion ahead of us wast so bad we were not only slowed to 30 miles, but gradually formed a solid line, and frequent dead stops were necessary. " Oh," I snarled, " where are the cops?' 1 ' " The only way to travel nowadays, said Jim, is by aeroplane. No selfrespecting citizen will stay on the roads much longer." It was hot. It was gassey. It was nerve-racking and on-edgev. The farther people were behind us the more anxious they were to get ahead. And every time the down traffic left space, 40 cars behind us leaped out of line and formed a double line, racing past us until down-coming trucks or cars forced them back into our line; and. with fury we had to make room for them. It meant a stop almost every time. " Get out into tno swim," said Jim, at last. " You jump, too. Everybody else is doing it." " Not me," said I. " It'll thin out a few miles north," coaxed Jim. "The sooner we get there, the sooner this strain will be over." " I'm safer where I am," I said, "in line." » But in a few moments, the car that had been ahead of me for several miles decided it was getting too thick and it made the jump and got into the scramble. . " Not me." I cried triumphantly. "Look at whoso ahead of us now I" " It's cops," said Jim. And sure enough, in the car now immediately ahead of us, were the round heads and flat caps of two large cops sitting the stiff way cops sit at the wheel of a car. "They're only doing 32," said Jim looking at my speedometer. " It'll do me, too," I said, settling comfortably in back of the cops. " Now," chuckled Jim, " watch these cutter-inners when they see the cops. But it made no apparent difference. The minute down traffic left a hole, out leaped about ten times moro cars than the hole would accommodate and the minute the down traffic came level, all these birds had to scrunch back into line and everybody had to grab and brake and swear and change gears. " I guess they don't sec they're cops."' said Jim. . " Why don't the cops do something, instead "of just jogging along?" I demanded hotly. " Pass them," advised Jim. " Not me," I said. " I respect law and order. Those cops are at least setting an example of orderly driving."

☆ ☆ Short Story (Copyright) By GREGORY CLARK (Noted Canadian Humorist) Illustrated By JAMES FRISE ☆ ☆

" And nobody even looks at them," scoffed Jim.

" What good could they do?" he went on. "In a jam like this?-" " One of them cciuld stand on the running board," 1 suggested, " and hold out his hand to warn those behind not to try to pass, in ten minutes the congestion ahead would sort itself out and we could all do 40. It's that crowding ahead that makes us all fjo slow." "Don't k't's talk about it;," said Jim. " Very well," I said. So we continued, in regular series of mixups, of grinding and braking .and starting and slowing and horns blowing and cussing as the impatient miles went by. Every time there was a jam-up and cars ahead would try to cut in ahead of me I would blow my horn furiously in the hope of rousing those two cops ahead from their lethargy. " What's the matter with them? ' I shouted. " Sitting there. Like dummies. With all this murder going on." " Hire a hall," said Jim. Ho sank down in his seat and closed his eyes. We came to a town. Jim woke and sat up. Jll the business block, traffic stopped dead for a minute, and ono of the cops in the car ahead appeared to get out. Heavily ho backed out the car door. He was 'in a khaki uniform and with him, hugged to his breast, ho backed out a large brass horn. " Pah-ah-ah," roared Jim. " A bandsman. A tuba player." " Well, I'll bo ... ." I admitted a little ruefully. " There you go," laughed Jim, " always taken in by appearances. Abusing the cops and it was just a couple of lads from the town band." Traffic began to move again and wo tooled through the town and the minute we got outside, the panic began again, cars leaping, swerving, ducking. " Well," asked Jim, " aj-e you going to stink behind the piccolo player?" " lleh, heh, heh," I said, taking a quick look behind and then swerving out. I stepped on the gas and leaped past the bandsman's ear. " Yah," I roared out past Jim, " yah, you big windbag, what are you holding up traffic for?" " Nix," hissed Jim. " It is a cop!" And it was. " Ow," 1 said, ducking back into line. " It was a cop, giving a guy a lift from the band," " Ow," said Jim, craning his neck to look in the mirror. " He's after you." In a minute, J saw a car creep alongside. It's horn tooted sharply. 1 looked. The cop, with a baleful north of Ireland look in his green eyes, was signalling mo languidly to pull off to the side. I took to the shoulder carefully, so as to allow the line behind me to pass. The cop pulled in ahead of me, got out and walked back, bitching his belt. " What was that," said the cop, resting bis elbow on niv door, " you said to me as you passed?" "Huh?" 1 asked. "Said to you? I wasn't speaking to you." " Oh, yes you was," said the cop. " What was it about me blocking traffic? Big windbag or something?" "Ob, tlmt?" I laughed heartily. "Oh, that? Oil, I was sneaking to my friend, here, my friends, he's deaf, see? 1 have to shout at him. Oh, ha, ha, did you think . . . Oh, ha, ha, Jiinmie," I shouted in Jim's ear, " the policeman thinks I was shouting at him." " Did Ik 1 ?" said Jim. " Yes." I roared in Jim's ear. " Isn't that funnv?" " He, he, he," laughed Jim, fairly heartily. " Well, anyway," said the cop, taking a long slow look at me, " I don't like the way you cut in and out in traffic. You'll be the death of somebody if vou keep that up." " Why, officer," I cried, "everybody is cutting in and out. Just look at them." , " Yes," said the constable, " but not right under the nose of a policeman. I'd better see your driver's licence, mister." And ho took down all my particulars, tested my lights, brakes, horn and wanted to seo my sparo light bulbs which I pro mi sod him I'd buy at tho next town, And all the time the traffic fought and snarled past us. And then he got in his car and drove ahead of us miles at 28 miles an hour.