Should Law Scrap Old Cars?
An Auto Is As Old As It Acts, Says Gus, and
By Martin Bunn
This story was donated by
Gus Wilson, half owner of the Model Garage, had about decided to call it a day when his partner Joe Clark called him to the window.
"Whats the idea of the funny decorations?" Joe asked, pointing to a small sedan that was coming slowly down the road. The car certainly looked queer. Scraps of paper and strings of various colors fluttered in the breeze, a sheet of brown paper was wrapped around the front axle, and the remains of a burlap bag dragged from the rear bumper.
Gus gazed at it wonderingly, but before he had time to make a reply the car swung in and came to a bucking halt in front of the garage. Immediately there came a loud hissing sound, clouds of steam poured out of the openings in the hood, and a torrent of steaming water rained down and formed a pool under the motor.
The two garage men came out in time to see the owner pop out of the car and shake his fist at the offending radiator.
"Sacre!" he yelled. "After all these miles I have driven you, little pig, you try to push the van full of the rubbish from the roadand see what happen! Jules Marceau, he punish you!" And he backed up his threat with a vigorous kick administered to the unoffending front tire.
Gus calmed the excited little man and led him into the office. "Tell us what happened, Mr. Marceau," he suggested.
"Perhaps it is a little bit my fault," Marceau began, his wrath rapidly evaporating. "I take Marie to the shops this afternoon and I wait for the traffic light behind a grand big truck filled with bags of rubbish. A bee jump through the window and he sit on my knee. I slap, and my foot it leavehow you call, the clutchand my car it jump right into the rubbish wagon. The rubbish it come down all over me and the radiator get bust. Is it now what you call bad luck?"
Gus grinned. "Bad luck and poor management," he observed. "If you hadnt had the car in gear, you could have taken a poke at the bee without having you car jump ahead.
"Of course, lots of drivers put the gears in first speed when they stop in traffic and keep their feet on the clutch pedals waiting for the signal to go ahead. But you shouldnt do that. Anything that happens to make you move suddenlylike that bee that landed on your knee, or maybe a hot cigar ash falling on your let muscleis going to make you take your foot off the clutch pedal and slam into whatever is ahead of you. Youre lucky you werent at the head of the line with a lot of people walking across the street a foot or two from your bumper. You might have killed somebody.
"Besides," he continued, "youre putting a lot of extra work on the clutch throwout bearing when you stand in first gear with the clutch pedal down."
"But I do not stand in the first gear," Marceau protested. "I am such a good driver I do not need the first speed. Me, always I start in the middle speed."
"Humph!" the veteran auto mechanic grunted. "If you
start in second all the time, Ill bet your clutch lining is pretty much nearly worn
out already. Starting in second is bum dope unless you have a four-speed transmission with
first geared so low that it isnt any use. Lets take a look at that car."
"Not so bad," he said. "For a wonder the radiator isnt damaged. Ill fix the supports and put on a new hose connection and itll be all right except for that dent in the hood. Ill roll that out, too, if youll bring it in tomorrow."
As with every car that came into the place, Gus inspected it to see if any vital part was out of order. He poked at the brake pedal, thumbed the horn button, fingered a broken spot in the windshield wiper hose, and squinted at the wheel alignment.
"Looks to me like you had a few other jobs here, Mr.
Marceau," he said. "The brakes need taking up, the horn doesnt work, and
the windshield wiper is out of commission."
"I have not think of it so," said Marceau. "It is one time in the thousand that the noise maker is necessary. That is true! Fix it at once! Never will I take the chance again. And the scrubber of the windshield also."
"Thats the way to talk," said Gus with a smile.
"With all the cars that are around today, everybodys got to keep his machine
right or pretty soon therell be a lot of new inspectors on the road just looking for
defects like that. A littler while ago they stopped a lot of cars in another state and
nearly a quarter of em had bum lights that couldnt pass inspection."
"You see its this way, Mr. Marceau," Gus went on as he
set about adjusting the car.
"Theres a lot of talk right now about condemning all cars over a certain age and putting them off the road. We may come to that in the end, but it always seemed to me like a kind of silly way to look at it. Maybe the people who keep proposing it will get the straight of it after a while. It isnt the age of a car that makes it safe or not. What counts is its condition. A five-year-old car in perfect shape is a lot safer bet than one two months old with the brakes out of whack and a lot of other things the matter with it," Gus concluded as he finished the brakes and started on the next job.
"Aha, my little cabbage!" whispered Marceau, patting the crumpled mudguard of his car affectionately. "Me, I will make very sure they do not condemn you, little one. Beginning with the now we will have your ills fixed at once, or before that, even!"