On the Road

On Our Job, Issue 16, 1 July 1945, Page 4

On the Road

TAOING a call back the other night (no, it wasn’t a “hungry” one) and my mate pushes up on the front platform a stately woman in her late fifties with the request that I put her off at the People’s Palace. “Sure,” I said, “but of course you know, I suppose, that they only keep Speights there now. They gave up Waitemata some time ago.” Arrived at the stopping place, she said as she left the car, “Young man, I neither drink nor smoke,” and with a curt “Good morning,” left me with one of those familiar tracts so often seen. (I wonder do I look as if I need reforming ?) Coming back, I was coasting down Hopper Street on the seventh notch when for some reason or other passengers seemed to be on the verge of panic. Funny how some people are

allergic to hills, isn’t it. Anyway, arrived, safely at the bottom of the hill, and several of them unjustly accused me of fast driving. “What, me speeding?” I said. “You must come along some time when I am in a hurry.” Well, vours in haste.—TED THE TERROR. '