THE MOTOR SHOW.

Waikato Times, Volume 97, Issue 1600, 31 May 1924, Page 15 (Supplement)

THE MOTOR SHOW.

(By Richard King.) Last year I swore I never go io the Motor Show a'gain. The crow,], tho atmosphere, the cigarette smoke, the number of idle spectators with sharp elbows and oversize Cost Quoth the craven, " Never more." But now my vows have faded into thin air, a'nd to-morrow I pass through the turnstiles for the second time in three days. The first time I went alone, f had other things to do. hut I went. There is, to me, something irresistible about a host of glittering motor cars, most of which are entirely unsuiled io my pocket and requirements. To Jook at things you can't afford is a pleasant sensation! Man is at heart a covetous animal. To look a!- anything" you don't altogether un'derstand and pass at the same time as a profound connoisseur is equally satisfactory. r ' l ' lr ' 'chances of being found out are infinitesimal. An air of bravado and a capacity to melt quickly into the crowd are all that is necessary to preserve an unshattercd dignify. Personally, nol being blessci; with much bravado, J just meit. J am beginning Io recognise at a glance the type of over-zealous salesman who asks leading questions instead tn waiting Io answer them. One of these fiends approached me yesterday as 1 paused to cast a fleeting glance at one of those naked affairs which is all "works" and no body. "What." he asked quickly, "do you think of the chassis'.' A fine job is

it not?" "Is not it," I said cautiously,' and prepared to melt. Before I could lurn round he was off again. "Have you seen the front wheel brakes?*' he asked. "You're familiar with the principle, I suppose? And, of course, the valve mechanism is new, too. Do you know it ?" "Lxciise me," I said, "but that old lady over there is my mother. 1 haven't seen her for twenty years. I'll be back in a minute." And I hurried away as fast as my fellow-sufferers would permit. Once out of range, I hailed at one corner

of a stand which seemed fairly sate. My eye dwelt admiringly on a long, low two-sealer which suggested youth at the wheel and the legal limit multiplied by three. I was just wondering how fast 1 should dare to make it go when, a.s from nowhere, appeared Percival Ihe Perfect. He greeted me warmly, as though he had found a kindred spirit. "1 suppose you know," he said, "she'll do sixty? What do you think of the chassis? Not much wrong—eh?" "No," I said, "not much." And there I blundered. What J ought to have said was, " Thanks, but I'm not interested," and melted again. As it was, our twj spirits became more kindred than ever. He ushered me inside Rij body, and together we talk-

eel ol speed. ''Personally," he said. "I should prefer !o do my own tuning. What do you feel?"' I re I*rained from mentioning my piano, and he wcnl on to explain thai as the car I was si'lting in would do sixty "as she stood," if was a pretty simple mailer to gel sixty-eigH out of her with a litlle tinkering. I gol out, and we passed on—i forget mow—lo golf. llf asked me what my handicap was, and I said sixty-right wiltioui thinking, and that hroughi us back to cars again. 1 was io iking round desperately for a moans of escape, when an old lady whose face seemed familiar caughl my eye. "Good lord!" I said hastily, "my mother! She's looking for me everywhere. Good-bye. See you later. So many thanks. I've come to the definite conclusion that people who lo the .Motor Show should wear badges in I heir coals indicating by diffcrcnl colours their precise reason for being there. 1 suggest white for those who have come to buy a car on 'the spot: green for Hie genuine purchaser who means to make his choice and place his order later; and red for those with the wherewithal lo buy, but who can't

quite make up their minds whether it ! shall be ibis year, next year, some time or never. People like me who can'! buy even it they would, and only go as spectators, would wear no badge at all. Then, maybe, we should be left in peace. The amount of breath saved in one afternoon would be enough to inflate the lyres of every mofor car in the building, Thorj might even be enough left over to purify the atmosphere of the Gallery, which, as the day wears on, is sadly lacking in ozone, especially in the corner where large, fat, men from the country play havoc with the stout and the sandwiches. All sorts of interesting tilings keep on happening in the Gallery, which you'd never suspect as you wander among the stands below. Here is a man wrenehirg an enormous tyre oft' its riri! and punching it violently in Hie ribs with bis fist. A dishevelled gentleman, evidently from Glasgow, watches him suspiciously, and shakes his bead knowingly as he passes on to the six sparking plugs which blaze and crackle cheerfully as they are dipped by some hidden guidance into a small reservoir of oil. To dip sparking plugs in oil 'is a •clear ease for (Ik: Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Gadgets. Oil to a sparking plug is what cold water is to a cat. Life in the Gallery can lie very ruthless. When I go baric again to-morrow and mingle with the crowd (keeping the while a sharp look out for Percival. and, if necessary, my mother) I shall do my best to see all the things I mean! to see yesterday but somehow didn't. The sort of questions people have been asking me are if I noticed the new Whatnot saloon and what I thought of the C'fteen horse-power Aerlex. Of course 1 saw neither, or. if I did. I have no recollection of having done so. I must moke a point of inspecting I hern io- morrow, but the chances are f shan't have time, or else Just as 1 am getting near one of them somc.thing else in Ihe opposite direction will attract my attention. IL may be a motor car or it may be a mother. After all, if you haven't seen the old lady for twenty years. She's sixty now, and with a little tuning sixty-eight. . . .By the way, if anyone wants an intreduction to Percival it's easily done. All the same, you can't mistake him. lie plays golf, and you'd know- him anywhere by his tie. j