Slow Starters

Ladies' Mirror, Volume 4, Issue 8, 1 February 1926, Page 34

Slow Starters

STEPHEN LEACOCK

TN the days before the motor-car, -*■ when a man said good-bye, he shook hands and was gone. If he was to ride on horseback, he made a brief farewell to each person present, shook hands, leaped upon his horse and was off. Now that the motor-car has come into use as the general instrument of visiting, this no longer happens. The people say good-bye, get into their motor-car, and are not gone. They make an affectionate farewell and then sit looking out of their glass windows, while the car goes “Phut, Phut— and sticks there. The more dramatic the good-bye, the more touching the farewell, the more determined the car always is to say, “Phut, Phutbang,” and refuse to move. Witness the familiar scene of the good-bye of the Joneses to the Smiths at 6 p.m. on any Sunday evening at any rural place near any big city. The Joneses have motored over in their own cara real peach, tin all —and have spent Sunday afternoon with the Smiths, who have a cottage which they call OPEN HOUSE (and where they take care that nobody gets in at meal times). When the time has come for the Joneses to go they all mingle up in a group with the Smiths, and everybody says good-bye to everybody else, and shakes hands with each one, and they all say, “Well, we’ve had a simply lovely time.” Then they all climb into the car, with Mr. Jones himself at the wheel, and they say, “Well, good-bye, good-bye!” and wave their hands. And then the car goes— Whr-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-rr phut bang. A wisp of thin blue smoke rolls away and when it has gone, the Joneses are seen sitting there absolutely still, and their car hasn’t moved an inch. JONES, at the wheel, sticks his head down among the gadgets and clutches and says, “I suppose she is a little cold,” and the Smiths say, “Yes, it often takes a little time to start them.” Then there’s a pause and nothing seems to be happening, and then, very suddenly and cheerfully, the engine of the car starts making a loud— Pur-r-r-n-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r. On this, all. the Joneses and all the Smiths exclaim, “There she goes,” and they break out into good-byes again all talking together:— “Well, come back soon We certainly will We’ve had a great time Remember us all to Jim We certainly will You’ve a simply too sweet cottage here We have enjoyed ourselves—— bye, good-bye, good-bye!” And then the car goes — Whir-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r phut bang!

And there is another biff of blue smoke, and when it clears away, what is behind it? Why, the Joneses, still there in their car. When the machine goes “bang all the Joneses in the car and all the Smiths standing beside the road are knocked into silence for a few seconds. Then Jones mutters, “Seems to be something wrong with the ignition,” and somebody else says, “She doesn’t seem to be feeding right,” and there’s a little chorus of, “Oh, she is just a little cold.” “They take a little warming up.” “She’ll start in a minute,” and then the engine begins again, this time at a terrific speed, about a million revolutions to the minute Whir-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-R-R. AT this happy sound, the goodbyes break out all over again in a chorus—“ Good-bye Look after yourselves Tell Winnie we’ll see her Friday Good-bye We certainly had a ” Bang! All stopped again. This time Jones is determined that when the engine starts he’ll keep it started. There shall be no false alarms this time. “Let her get going well,” some of them advise him, and so when the engine next starts, Jones doesn’t throw in his clutch, but just lets her go on humming and roaring till everybody feels assured that this time the start is actually going to happen, and the good-byes break out all over again. The noise gets louder and louder, the conversation rises into shouts mixed with the “phut, phut, phut” of the machine, and then all of a sudden there’s a tremendous “bang!” and a volume of blue smoke, and when it clears away, where are the Joneses? Gone clean gone; they seem to have vanished off the earth! At last you catch a glimpse of their car already two hundred yards away, disappearing in a cloud of smoke. “They’re off!” murmur the Smiths, and the painful scene is over. ... t j A HINKING over this scene I ■*- cannot but reflect how fortunate it has been for mankind that the motor-car was not invented earlier in our history. So many of the great dramas of history have turned upon farewells and departures that some of the most romantic pages of the past would have been spoiled if there had been any petrol in them. Take, for example, the familiar case of Napoleon saying good-bye to his officers and soldiers at Fontainebleau before going into exile. The fallen emperor stood beside the steed he was about to mount, turned a moment and addressed to his devoted comrades words that still echo in

the ears of France. But suppose that he had said the same thing while seated in a little car with his head stuck out of the window. How inadequate it would have sounded ‘Tarewell, my brave comrades—phut, phut—together we shared the labours and the burden of a hundred campaigns— bang, phut —we must forget that we have conquered Europe— phut—that our eagles have flown over every capital bang—l leave you now for exile, but my heart forever will remain—-whir-r-r, phut—buried in the soil of —bang!” R take as a similar case in point y' the famous Farewell to the Nation, spoken by George Washington as his last service to the republic that

he had created. Washington, supposing there had been petrol in those days, would have been reported as leaning out from the window of his sedan-car and speaking as follows “Let America cultivate and preserve the friendship of the world—phut, phut—let us have peace and friendship with all—whir-r-r—and entangling alliances with none—bang ! i have grown old in the service of this country and there is something wrong with my ignition. To each and all of you, I bid now a last farewell ” Whir-r-r-r. “Farewell 1” Phut, phut, phut, phut. “Farewell!” Bang!