MOTOR CAR GRAVEYARDS

Otago Daily Times, Issue 21537, 8 January 1932, Page 4

MOTOR CAR GRAVEYARDS

THE WRECKER AT WORK AN INTERESTING OCCUPATION USEFUL SALVAGING SPARE PARTS. What happens to the hundreds of motor cars which annually go out of commission —some as a result of accidents, some charred and burnt, and many too old for service? Is there a Valhalla for the wheeled stalwarts of the road after their work is done, or are they left by the way useless junk to rust and fall to pieces? Some, particularly those which are overtaken by fate in the country, are left by the roadside —grim, forlorn, and silent .testimony to some error of judgment, some lapse from the viligance of the road, or, perhaps, eloquent evidence of the indifference of the world to anything that has served its purpose. But the fate of hundreds of others is different. In Dunedin there are graveyards for disused and useless cars. They are large yards crammed full of derelicts, mangled bodies, twisted chassis, accessories, Und the innumerable spare parts that can be salvaged from even the most hopeless wreck. There is something almost pathetic about these skeleton-like remains of vehicles which once glittered with bright finishings and pulsated with life and power and speed. From over a wide area these shattered remains are collected, and by a variety of means. The hearse in the funeral of a motor car carries no sombre plumes above polished and glassed flanks. It is generally an old and trusted servant, more remarkable for its reliability than for its appearance, and fitted with a crane that, if necessary, can lift the corpse bodily from the road. Its work seems to be never finished. Day and night some mangled mechanical mass is being lifted from the highway somewhere to be transported to the graveyard of motor cars, where complete and absolute dismemberment finally ends its identity forever. A visit to one of the car wrecking establishments in -Dunedin is full of interest. Here may be seen the remains of cars of every description, mere shades of what they once were. Death levels everything, and here great models, which cost hundreds of pounds, lie cheek by jowl with modest “ flivvers,” and others which cost less than a quarter the money, and were probably sold half a dozen times before they found their way to the shop of the wrecker. Stripped of the pristine glory which once roused salesmen to heights of rhetoric, they all look the same —junk. Cars that in their prime were "le dernier cri ’’ of their day are regarded there as just so much rubbish from which a few useful parts may be salvaged. In the strange assortment that fills the yards are scores of object lessons in “ other times, other things.” These old “ has beens” recall the days when the world was much younger, when travel was much slower and when fashions in cars were less exacting. But it is not all old cars which one sees in the hands of the wreckers. _ There are new models in plenty, their paint still bright, their nickel still shining and their lines still modern —cars which have no long and useful career to tljeir credit. Smashed and battered about, they present an even more moving picture than the old veterans that have had thier day and ceased to be. They represent hundreds of pounds of waste and dead loss to someone. And then there are the charred remains of others, vehicles that have been burnt beyond repair, and dragged to the graveyard for the final disintegration. It is remarkable how much is worth salvaging from broken down and shattered motor cars. The wrecker has a busy time before the remains are denuded of everything of which further use might be made, but even so, when he has done his best, taken everything he wants, there is still a lot of rubbish to be disposed of by either of two methods —cremation or buVial. There is much that can be, and is, burnt, even to solid, steel chassis which for all their substance and hardness cannot withstand the onslaughts of an expertly wielded acetone torch. What will not burn is then taken for a last ride to the municipal tips to mingle in one final confusion with rubbish and refuse of every description which will ultimately be buried and forgotten. Nevertheless, no matter how many loads of scrap iron and other such leave the graveyard the miscellaneous assortment of seemingly useless material seems to be no less. Scattered on every hand are thousands of spare parts, wheels, doors, axles, radiators, gear boxes, shafts, old head-lamps, and, in fact, everything that goes to make up a live motor car. There they lie in piles waiting to be cleaned in an enormous vat containing a special preparation which removes dirt and rust and grease, and allows of a proper inspection to be made. Flaws, signs of wear and weak spots are rigidly searched for, and it is only after the most exhaustive examination that parts are finally passed for use. All the good parts are exposed for sale, and the others find their way to the tip. Sometimes from 20cwt to SOcwt of mangled remains a small part weighing about half a dozen pounds is all that is worth salvaging, but still the business goes on, and, what is more, it seems to be quite profitable—this searching for old parts that may be grafted on to new cars and given a second lease of life.

For the rest, the old car that finds its last resting place against a fence by the roadside, as is the case in many country districts, and particularly Central Otago, enjoys a much better fate than those which are deposited ignominiously in the city after everything of use has been torn from them.