Taranaki 1927 Motor Exhibition

Taranaki Daily News, 8 June 1927, Page 19

Taranaki 1927 Motor Exhibition

AT THE WINTER SHOW

QLEAMING models of beauty and grace, hiding within their steely elegance engines of power and speed—the ranks of the motorcars in the motor section of this year’s Taranaki Winter Show form an impressive spectacle. It is a spectacle that touches the ' sense of pride, both for the degree of cultivation of the maker’s craftmanship, and for the highly developed standard of the buyer’s taste. The first thought crossing the mind of tffe layman visitor is one almost of awe that such remarkable advance has been made since the birth of the first motor-car, itself the consummation of centuries of iron and steel evolution. For generations tools developed in numbers, construction and variety,* but they were all dead

tools. Then came life and movement. Man, jealous of nature, stripped her of another secret, not read til. he was eighteen, seized upon a bright inspiration, and George Stephenson had made a lifeless structure move by burning coal. There followed steam and queer machines which ehuffchuffed a laborious, wonderful way. Then electricity flashed across an astonished world, and the smoky gloom Uf mere industrial usefulness fled away. With the dawn of 20th century, beauty and culture lifted their heads, and, in a generation, the machine of movement reached the heights. The 20th century touched the ugliness with a fairy wand, and the loveliness of the modern car was revealed.

You may slip away for a moment to admire the butter and cheese; you may be lured by the stentorian voices of the showmen, or the homely cackle of the poultry, but always you will return to the cool, spacious Coronation Hall, fringed with nikau palms and greenery, cheered by a blithe orchestra, filled with a light-hearted people. There is no escape from the bewitchment of ears. There is the long, lean car, which will strain at delay, fret at restraint, and leap at a touch. To drive it, one must have an easy nonchalence, a mask of carelessness and a firm will. There is the velvety, lazy, gently swaying, car. The ■car which basks in your admiration and reflects your smiles. It frankly asks your adoration, and gets it. There is the little battler, built on a short, sturdy plan—a stout companion and a

solid friend. There is. the dear little car for elderly ladies, wearing a tiny black bonnet of a hood. What a delightful sense of propriety the prospective purchase conjures up. Just think of Jones’s car—Heavens! An Armenian atrocity! That appalling hearse of a car belonging to Eliza Winks! But here you ean stand with enormous satisfaction beside your own ear, the car of your dreams. Who can refrain from buying 1 The days of bullock drays are far away. Tarred roads stretch smoothly, invitingly before you. Reasonable prices and cheap running expenses mock at tired feet. And the petulant phrase, “I shall get a car,” slips into the lustier phrase, “I will get a car,” till it joyously rings in your ears, “I have got a car.”