Country Life
BY IAN NIALL THERE used to be more time for conversation on a journey in the days of the pony and trap. Today one is much more likely to be offered a lift by the driver of an old car than a new one. The modern car eats up the road and the driver must concentrate on his driving. The old car is like an old horse. It takes its time, and the philosophy of the driver must be different. At the crossroads the other evening the wind was blowing much harder than I had expected when I set out for my walk, and I was thankful for the offer of a lift back to the village. En route we discussed steep hills and slipping clutches, the temperament of ofd cars, the tragedy of a man's dying in Christmas week, and the outrageous noise that passes for music with the town band. The journey was over far too soon for me when the old car trundled away, its tail. lights blinking. I felt sorry to think that such a pleasant custom should be falling into disuse. Streamlining and speed break necks, and at seventy or eighty miles an hour rational conversation is not pos- sible, even if the driver stops to pick up a passenger to share the ordeal.
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