THE LUNCH RUSH.

Sun (Christchurch), Volume I, Issue 28, 10 March 1914, Page 6

THE LUNCH RUSH.

A TANGLE OF WHEELS. At twelve noon the activity of the traffic at the Bank of New Zealand corner becomes ferocious. It is a maze of crossing wheels even at ordinary times, but when the hungry hordes from shops and offices rush out in wild haste to snatch food for themselves ike whirl of the dodging wheels becomes frantic. The cars plunge up and downj clashing expostulant goings, and are besieged by clamorous crowds. The taxi-cab shoots across from cdrner to corner, braying derisively, and the expert pedestrian pauses for a moment in his brave dash for the opposite sidewalk to do a sort of quiek fandango between a dozen (cycles, a tram-car, a motor and two' expresses.

It is stimulating. The hundreds of cyclists of all . sorts and of both sexes converge on the comer from both ends of Hereford Street, from either "end of Colombo Street, and from High Street.; the trams and the motors and the. cabs also converge there, so do the pedestrians—but there are neAner any accidents.

The Agile Pedestrian. A policeman is stationed at the corner to keep a tolerant eye on the traffic. Usually he stands in front of a tramstandard, and it seems a safe place for there is do record of any policeman having been killed there. The private car grunts arrogantly past, and the cyclists, with an agility that qualifies them for an exalted position on a vaudeville stage,.dodge roun<J it, behind it and in front of it, while at the same time they contrive to miss the mere pedestrian by a fraction,of an inch. But the pedestrian, tod, has learned to be quite as agile as the cyclist, arid he, or she, manoeuvres amongst the clanging and hooting, machines with a deft side-step movement that resembles a mad minuet. There is nothing like it in any other city in New Zealand, for in no other city is there siuch a drove of cycles to add confusion to tortuous city ways. Familiarity breeds assurance, and the assurance of the cyclist and the pedestrian seems a bulwark against the danger of the tram-car and the motor. Still, it is amazing in this criss-cross of vehicles that no one is knocked down, that not even a cab is shattered by a careering tram-car, that cyclists are so seldom trodden on by express . horses. The motor-cycle, with a snort of contemptuous warning, rattles through a flock of push-cycles (poor plebians these years), but the cyclists have the freedom of the road and the greater nimbleness; they twist and dodge like a shoal of minnows ehased b-y a trout.. And no one |it seems is ever killed, hurt, or even knocked down.

The Maze of Wheels. This mid-day rush for lunch is inspiring. It inspires the thought that the compulsion of necessity has produced an agile race in Christehurch, a people whieh knows how to "step lively" when need 'demands. In Wellington now, the conductors are frequently impelled to make that urgent request. In Christehurch it is unnecessary. There is another thought inspired, and that is whether it is really necessary that this chaos of wheels should continue—it embarrasses , the stranger not accustomed to the so-prevalent "bike." A Wellingtonian or an Aucklander may be quite accustomed to eluding the onslaughts of motor-cars and trams, he may even have learned to perform - the feat with dignity and nonchalance, but confront him with a dozen scattered cycles at the Bank corner, having the sub-conscious realisation that there are two spluttering motor-cycles and a clanging tramcar making, a rearguard attack on hira, and he, is liable to lose his nerve. Possibly it is because the übiquitous "bike" has not trained him to hardihood that the northerner is willing to pay policemen to regulate his traffic so that he can cross the road in safety. ! '» '■

An Expert Dodger. In Christehurch the drivers of cars and carts do make some attempt to keep the rule of the road, but it is hard to dodge the cyclist when the cyclist is a so much more expert dodger, and so the rule gets broken. It doesn't matter much though. Pedestrian Christ - church has learned how not to get knocked down, and it seems almost as though'he would be quite safe in the middle of the track during a motor speed-test—he has become so inured to hair-breadth escapes. But to others not so familiar with the ways of cycles and motor-cycles the Bank corner is a perilous place at noon, or at 5 p.m.— not to be compared with the corner of Cuba Street and Manner's Street' in Wellington, on the corner of Customs Street and Queen Street in Auckland, for those corners are beset by trams, motors: and lorries There is no whirling haze of cycles to bewilder the mind.

The Tricky Pedestrian. This plenitude of wheels is one of the chief features of Christehurch, ami at no time are they so insistent than at the rush hour of, noon and at the Bank corner. There you can see the cycle of all makes and dates, and the cyclist of all ages and stages—and they are all expert. Even the young girl on the old machine can steer through the closing, two-iuch space between the motorcar and the dray, shoot in front of a tram, describe a series of arcs around a series of pedestrians and other cyclists and never lose her head once. It is amazing,, inspiring, this noon-day chaos, but it iii not the hunger-rush that stimulates, it is the display of agility. Sheer necessity has produced a city of trick-cyclists and tricky pedestrians—by self-preservation out of easy-going traffic control. )