HANK! HANK! HANK!

NZ Truth, Issue 997, 3 January 1925, Page 7

HANK! HANK! HANK!

♦ — *_ Have You Met Ford? A Swift Bird Who "Gets There." (From "Truth's" Sydney Rep.) Cabled that Henry Ford, said to be just comfortable with a wad of £450,---000,000, is investing £1,000,000 m five Ford car assembly plants and one body-manufacturing plant, and the organisers are about to sail for Australia, Henry says a man can make enough iii six hours' labor to live on for a week. And he has proved it m his business! The "Sun" tells us that he is worth £450,000,000, which makes him the richest man m the world. His annual income tax would run the Australian Commonwealth —and when our Federal Treasurer gets his wallet, Henry will probably help considerably m that direction, if. we have a little more luck with him than we have had with some of the big landed squatters of the country. "Hank," as the Yank newspapers call him, turns out three new Fords every minute of the 24 hours m a working year of 300 days. His workmen assembled a car m 12 minutes for the Prince of "Wales a few weeks ago, ' and on the stroke of the 13th minute the Prince drove' it out of the workshop. They tell that he is now experimenting with a flying Ford aero-aquaplane which can skate over the water at more than 100 miles an hour, and can flit m the air at 176 ■miles an hour. It can glide quietly to rest on an area covered by a couple of cars. The price will not be beyond the means of a member of or a bricklayer m constant work. Here's Our Hand "Hank." "Hank" will certainly revolutionise things m Australia, and we are prepared to make one to ask him to ad.dress the Millions Club, or run for Spats Bruce's seat, if lie will take up bis residence here, and claim naturalisation papers. We love the man who invented the Ford car. There is nc thing like it on earth. As an American lover of the car says, this humble jig-saw puzzle plugs along m rain, and snow, and drought, and Administrations; it never has to be curried, fed, or pampered. , At any old time, anywhere, it may be descried skimming, tearing, swearing, poughing, wheezing along, its fenders flapping like angel wings on feast days. Often its wheels are bow.^egied m front and knock-kneed iii back; Its transmission turns sour 60^ miles from its destination— but it gets there. 'Frisco "Examiner," rejoicing m "Hank's" ten millionth car, says hurricanes may shred a Ford's percolating top to baby ribbons, and blizzards may deposit their contents m its rear seats. Its tool-box rumbles and mutters with chilled threats, and its clutch develops tonsilitis. But it never stops'to hesitate. Nothing Matters. One of its incinerator headlights blinks its last, but it continues on its one-eyed detour. Its left hind wheel becomes inflamed with chronic \mi.leage and drops off, never again to lift its sweet voice iii a chorus of frozen squeaks. It continues to run on three .wheels — and gets there. It accumulates adhesion of brake bands, and two of its cylinders are atrophied from long disuse. Three bpark plugs resign under fire, and another wheel deserts its post. Its radiator boils itself -'pink m its own juice, and its "Vesuvius hood explodes steam, vapor, and chipped gears. " Another wheel shrivels up m senile decay, and four bolts flutter earthward like withered leaves m autumn. This makes it go faster. Its license plates resemble two epitaphs. Its steering gear works loose from its original specifications, but it takes the reins m its gear-boXj and stubbornly increases its cadence. You can hamrnef it, thump it, shoot it at sunrise. But it will arise out of its own ashes of empire and resume its bouncing schedule. All four wheels finally drop loose — but it gets there if it has to skid. You can't stop it, because Henry Ford built it to go, and it goes. Other cars may be fancier but monograms, absorb no shocks. Midas may have spread goldleaf on his bread, but ordinary folk prefer butter. Limousines and landaulets may sparkle like dews on diamonds. But kicks, blows, and harsh words only rriake the old Ford flivver consolidate its traffic combination of leaping, trotting, and vehicular congestion, and put on more whistling power. It inherits throbbing asthma, loss, of twisted energy, and revolving measles. But just so long as it has one thing to knock against another. the indestructible Ford will keep functioning until it wears down to its final rusted rivet. I The Last Rivet. v > And what of that last rivet? A Yankee Ford worshipper declares that last rivet will reserve enough energy to hop off and take its rightful place m a universal congress ■'" of "jumping beans," or a Mexican revolution. This is the Ninth Wonder of the worjd that "Hank" Ford is going to build m Australia. In our wonderful atmosphere and invigorating climate the hardy flivver should develop even more remarkable powers of endurance. ! "Truth"' has seen what a. decrepit Ford can do m our v ßack Country, on the worst roads m two hemispheres. Tied here with rope, held together there with fencing-wire, strapped with a lfeather belt somewhere else, shrieking m every joint, we have seen a lo\Vdown, disreputable Oiitrback Ford, loaded to Plimsol mark with dead rabbits, sailing along like a Continental racing-car, around sharp bends, "hair-pin" corners, and "S" curves, and giving gilded flivvers its dust, its rabbit-trapping chauffeur dirtier than a station aboriginal. .'■"■. With these hardy jig-saw me-, chanica! miracles selling, at £50 a "- time, half the city can live m the bush, and . awake m the morning to the cooking of the Kookaburra, or the yellow wattles' yell. We are giving "Hank" Ford the glad hand when he brings that cool £1,000,000 to Australia. <