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Banter at Manchester. 2555 for an Old r oden. Pushing a Bus to Start It.
By "The Extractor."
" Is this what turns you pale'? Is this a cause why one should not dine ?" Suffragettes may have been the cause of postponing the Heavy-Vehicle Show for three weeks, but they could not interfere with the holding of the Show Dinner, therefore the S.M.M.T., coupled with the Lancashire, Chsshire and North Wales Section, made merry at Manchester on Thursday of last week.
The dinner of Mr. Ernest In stone, of the Daimler Co., was spoiled for him, I fear, because he was pounced upon to supply the vacant place of Mr. Harry Smith, of the Rover, but I never heard him speak better. He struck a joyous note, and this was splendidly maintained by both the Lord Mayor of Manchester and the Mayor of the "Royal Borough of Salford," as it was unctuously but correctly referred to. The banter exchanged amongst these three was delicious. The speeches, however, settled down more seriously afterwards.
One speaker made an interesting point in connection with motoring which struck me as new. He avowed that motoring was gradually settling the housing problem. People with motors naturally prefer. to live further out, and, in consequence, there is a general "moving up," which is acting quite beneficially in places like Manchester and Salford. One of the Lord Mayor's stories was that a motorist drove up to the City Hall on some mission or other, probably for exceeding the speed limit, and he asked an individual who was standing near the entrance if he would object to minding his motor. " My good sir. I'm a member of the City Council," retorted the other. " That's all the better then," said the motorist, "I can thoroughly depend on you."
"They persuaded me to come, but it's a lot, of nonsense," said Mr. William Foden to me as people were gathering for the dinner. It was good to see the heads of the Foden concern taking interest in these festivities, and, judging by their chance meetings with friends, and the animated conversations which followed, the above judgment was, later on, considerably modified.
One interesting item of information incidentally fell out during conversation, which indicates how brisk the demand is for steam wagons. During last week a twoyear-old Foden was sold for £555. Surely this is a record ; if any other wagon maker can equal or beat this, I shall be interested to hear of it.
There is a turning into Great Portland Street, W. out of one of the short streets leading from Regent Street, which includes a part of a certain regular motorbus route, and which requires some nice steering when. handling a bus. The curve must be judged almost to an inch, or else you are bang into the street refuge in the centre of the road, and that means reversing. Seeing that there is a great congestion of vehicles here, the slightest delay holds up the traffic, and crowds quickly congregate to watch the fun.
A driver of a bus, as I passed the other day, fouled the refuge and at the same time stopped his engine. Seconds, minutes went by in a perspiring attempt to start it up again, passengers got off the bus one by one, the interested crowd of sightseers grew, but the winding .up process was ineffective. They couldn't. raise a gurgle. Some of us, when we used to have to pump up our tires by the roadside after a puncture, have generally roped in some youthful spectators to take turn-s at the nigger work, and the crowd had to help in this event. It was the point-duty policeman who stepped in. "Conic along, boys, give us it shove I " he called out. No appeal of this sort to a group of Londoners is made in vain ; 50 willing volunteers laid hands on the bus, and soon got a move on. Thedriver slipped in his top gear, and the show was over. It was no worse than shoving a jibbing horse.