Chapter 19 - Another Dream Fulfilled, a Car
“Can I go? Can I go to meet Aunty Isa?” five year old Edith danced around the table, anxious to hear what her father would say to her request.
He had just opened up a letter from Wellington to hear that his sister would be coming to stay at the farm for the August holidays.
“The Limited’ gets into Frankton at 5:20am so we will need to leave here by 4am. It will be very cold and very dark,” he said to his eager little daughter. “Oh that won’t matter. I can take my muff,” she said excitedly. Daddy hadn’t said no.
By this time rabbits had become another menace that farmers had to deal with, but not quite as devastating as in the South Island. The little animals were nevertheless causing considerable destruction in the Waikato. The farm worker employed on Okoropong made quite a lot of extra money trapping rabbits, but he had given two black skins to the little daughter of the family. Esther had turned them back to back so it was warm inside the muff with the soft fur and there was black fur on the outside too. A gay blue ribbon that went around her neck held it in just the right place to keep her little hands warm. At 3:30am on Saturday morning Esther woke her daughter, leaving her to dress in the light of the candle that threw dancing shadows into the corners of the room, while she went to make some porridge and fry some bacon for an early breakfast. Fred was outside harnessing ‘Lassie’ to the gig. Lassie did not go as fast as Jock, but she would not be as frightened at the railway station. A few minutes before 4am they were ready to go. While Fred tucked a rug around his daughter and over his long legs, Esther brought out two bricks that had been warming in the oven all the night before. Wrapped in newspapera and covered with a blanket, they were put on the floor of the gig where his feet would go. The brilliant moon gave the familiar fields a strange radiance and all the sky seemed alight with silver stars which sparkled and shone in the clear dark. Fred showed his little daughter the stars that make up the Southern Cross Constellation and the three evenly spaced stars of Orion’s belt. It seemed like no one else in the whole world was awake as the rhythmic beat of Lassie’s trotting hooves echoed in the still air, and when Fred started to sing the lonely feeling drifted away. At first they sung Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, and then other songs the little girl loved, but soon his deep voice swung into some of the majestic old psalms. The awe and wonder of that glorious moonlight night in the sleeping countryside was reflected in his voice.
They came at last to the Frankton railway station. There were buggies, traps and gigs already there. There were even some motor cars. Most of the horses had a boy standing by their heads, and some were walking around just to keep warm, but Fred threw Lassie’s cover over her back and tied her firmly to a post. Then he and Edith started up the steps and along the overbridge. There was a magic about the great steam engines snorting and puffing as they shunted in the darkness, and the thrill to stand on the platform as the gleaming monster thundered by, shaking all the ground with it’s noise and weight.
Fred greeted his sister. There was steaming coffee in thick white railway cups and a big ham sandwich before they were back in the gig, rugs tucked well around to keep out the biting cold. Halfway home, it seemed as if the sun suddenly jumped out of bed. Everything was white, a brilliant sparkling frosty white. The cobwebs along the fence were hung with diamond drops that glistened and shimmered as the stars had done a few hours before. It was very beautiful, but oh so cold, much colder than before.
“They say that in the early days the hoar frost on the wires at Woodlands was as thick as a cable,” Fred remarked to his sister. “The drainage work we have done and the trees we have planted are altering the climate of the Waikato.
It was good to get to the warmth of the house, where Esther had kept the fire alight and a hot drink was soon ready.
In March 1924, Fred proudly drove his new Chevrolet home to the farm. It was black as most cars were, with a top that folded back and canvas windows with a celluloid square in the middle that could be buttoned on in the wet weather. Of course Fred did not expect to be able to use the car in the winter as the roads became too muddy, but he hoped to use it when he went to a meeting at night. He hated keeping the horses waiting especially on a windy night. The Drainage Board meetings were generally held in the day time, but the school committee met in the evenings and so did the church manager. Besides, ever since that first ride in a car with the doctor from Meremere he’d been determined to own a car. That winter, together with other Gordonton farmers, they spent many days working on the roads. Even the wagons had difficulty getting through. In 1925, the Waikato County Council ordered all heavy vehicles to cease using the roads from the end of May to the end of September. “People don’t seem to realise that if they want better roads we have to get the money from somewhere,” protested the Chairman, and they decided to issue driving licenses. No test required, but the council hoped they would have a little more money to spend on the roads. In June of the same year, there was a conference of the local authorities throughout New Zealand to consider heavy traffic fees, and to try to keep speeds down to a reasonable 25 mile per hour.
Fred was very pleased with his new car. By study and experimentation, he had learned how it worked. There wasn’t much chance of getting to a garage if he had to. Sometimes, no matter how hard he wound the crank handle the engine would only splutter and die. Then one of the horses had to be harnessed to the front of the car and drag it along the track. That was usually effective, but the horses were not amused. Punctures were of course mended just where they happened, and were quite frequent, and chains for the tires were always carried, and often needed, summer or winter. On January 1926 a very excited family set out on their first long trip in the Chev, a journey to Wellington. The running board was boarded in, and tins of petrol packed carefully and firmly there. The outfit for mending punctures was replenished and put handy. Spade, axe and chains were in place where they could be reached easily. There had to be enough food, and everything they needed to boil the billy beside the road.
The young Olive Williams who had been so good to him during his days as a cadet had married a farmer at Ohaupo and so they stopped to welcome her to the Waikato. Only a short visit. ‘Now we have a car, we can come again,” Fred promised. Mount Messenger was steep. The road was a bit too difficult to enjoy the beauty of the magnificent trees and as was the custom the horn was blown at each corner to warn any horse traffic on the road that a car was coming.
The Mokau River was crossed on a punt, (between Te Kuiti & Waitara)
“We’re more used to horses,” commented the bargeman, “Cars are easier though because they don’t jump about.” With its high wheels the car ran off the punt quite easily and up the stony bank on the other side of the river.
It was a joy to find that some of the Taranaki roads were black and smooth. The car purred along so quickly with hardly a bump at all. “It is called bitumen,” Fred told his oldest daughter. “Taranaki’s mud is so sticky they had to do something, I suppose.” That night Fred stayed with Aunt Rose at Princes Street in Hawera, but this time he had a wife and three daughters.
On to Wanganui, where Esther’s mother and youngest sister were now living. They had gone 299 miles in two days. The little girls were thoroughly enjoying the new experience, and the adults were finding it wasn’t as difficult as they had anticipated. Everyone they saw waved to them and the Williamson’s waved back, but there was long stretches of lonely road where there was no one. Two days with Esther mother, then on to Palmerston North. Early next morning they piled into the car for the last lap to Wellington. With a triumphant blare of the horn, Fred pulled up at his brother’s front gate. (At this time Fred’s father and mother were living at Okoropong).
They were back in Gordonton by 16th January. A great tour of 1100 miles on 11 tins of benzene, 1 and a half gallons of oil, with only a screw loose in the horn all the way. The last day had been the longest day’s travelling, 240 miles up the old coach road from Wanganui, through some of the roughest, loneliest country in New Zealand. The journey had been a challenge, but they realized it could be done; it was fun to travel. Every January after that some part of NZ was explored. At first they just camped by a stream or under a handy tree, but gradually recognized camping spots began to appear. The route was studied carefully before they left home so that they knew where places of interest were to be found. (The AA Guides were most worthwhile)
“Don’t try to go too far in one day and stop often,” Fred told a friend once, “keeps the children happy.” But he and Esther were interested too, and enjoyed the leisure to look & listen. Fred taught his wife to drive the car. They put kerosene tins across the paddock, but when Esther was supposed to back between them, the tins seemed to get in the way of the wheels. Crash, one crushed tin, Whang, two crushed tins! “Never mind,” said Fred, and Esther drove the car for nearly 40 years without learning to back confidently. For several years she was the only lady in the district who was allowed to drive the family car., and when the school basketball team wanted to play at neighbouring schools, Esther was usually asked to take the children. The nine players seemed to fit into the old car quite well. For many of the children a drive in a car was a novelty, and no one grumbled if they were a bit squashed.