Motorist

Browse pages
Current page

1

Current page

2

Current page

3

Current page

4

Current page

5

Current page

6

Current page

7

Current page

8

Current page

9

Current page

10

Current page

11

Current page

12

Current page

13

Current page

14

Current page

15

Current page

16

Current page

17

Current page

18

Current page

19

Current page

20

Current page

21

Current page

22

Current page

23

Current page

24

Current page

25

Current page

26

Current page

27

Current page

28

O for a whiff of castored air, tinder
To the dormant fires of past enthusings.
For brightens then the eye in expectation
Of renewal of old familiar sights;
And attentive is the ear to hark
Again to healthy motors.
And lo, sweeps
By Le Patron’s proud accomplishment of
Some earlier day and age, and passes from
Our lately favoured sight the while we sigh.
Alas, so many of us can but travel
In such Godlike manner in our minds, yet
Even so, we find such travel good.
It
Is our lot that we must needs content
Ourselves with humbler carriages, but
Not through that are we self-deemed less
Worthy of the name of Motorist.
Call him not a Motorist whose car is
But a means of transportation. Call
Him, if you will, a traveller, of that
Same status as are all those conveyed in
Public transport; for transport, mark you, is
But the means unto an end, whereas who
Motors, in the very act of travel
Finds the end itself, and finds that end an
All-enduring self-sufficiency.
And we, who are so jealous of our name,
Are understood but by our brothers, and
Never can, by he who only travels, be given
Comprehension.

E. Gordon Oxenham.