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The New Zealand Railways Magazine, Volume 11, Issue 5 (August 1, 1936)

Zestful Riding

Zestful Riding.

For comfort and satisfaction on a long journey it is doubtful whether anything will ever excel the express train. There is a sense of security in its size and substance that nothing else can quite give. There is majesty in its movements, irresistible strength in its momentum, unconquerable assurance in its stride. It can do its 50 miles an hour with a thousand people aboard while road units, so far as loading is concerned, seldom touch double figures and never reach a century. Such is the “Express” as we know it today.

But the rail-car, the latest arrival on the railway stage, although it carries only fifty or sixty people, is destined to make every other kind of land travel (excepting always the fast express) seem monotonously tiresome and dangerously dull.

Rail-cars give a new zest to riding. They are so fast, so safe, so clean, so easy! There is a fairy-like lightness in their movement. They extend the outlook, turn tunnels into treasures, and give a new meaning to the companionship of the rail.

They woo the traveller to sleep, wake him refreshed, strengthen his appetite, widen his horizon, brighten his imagination and increase his tolerance. They are the bright birds of the rail—the fast shuttles that weave the bright colours in the lordly loom where the magic carpet of travel is made. If you can think of any other desirable virtue—rest assured, the railcar has it!

Such is the impression gained from actual experience of travel by the rail-car “Maahunui,” which, in its epic journey through the North Island during the past month, has helped to make history in New Zealand.

“Maahunui” is the first of the Rimutaka type of rail-cars to be completed in the Hutt Valley Workshops. Already “Mahuhu” has joined “Maahunui” in the ranks of this rail-car fleet, and others are rapidly reaching completion.

“Maahunui”! There is only about 12 tons of it, empty, or 16 tons, fully loaded; it is bigger than a motor car and smaller than a house, but it woke up the North Island, town and country alike, as it took the two dynamic forces in the railway affairs of this country, the Hon. D. G. Sullivan, Minister of Railways, and Mr. G. H. Mackley, General Manager of Railways, on their inspection tour over nearly 3,000 miles of territory in less than a fortnight.

The trip soon ceased to be a trial run—it became a pioneering classic. At the hoot of “Maahunui's” horn, mothers dropped their baking and made for the back fence, daughters forgot their hair gadgets and stared out from behind the parted curtains of windows; fathers neglected their plowing, boys lined the embankments and bridges. Station platforms filled up and overflowed with people of all classes anxious to see the rail-car and meet the men responsible for it.

Mill hands left their saws and peevies, and patients forgot their doctors. Jolly, excited, children crawled under it or crowded through it, drew pictures of it, and dreamed about it through nightmare nights. Hope came to outback country districts as the red rail-car, a gigantic dragon fly of fast flight and flashing brightness, hurtled through the night with a wild burst of broadcast music from its powerful loudspeakers.

Teachers brought their pupils to view the car and its occupants, Maoris made hakas to it, poets made page 7 songs about it and chairmen of every kind of board and council and progress league and political organisation spoke briefly and brightly, gaily and lightly, as they saw what this new feature in the transport world could mean to them and those they represented in the devolpment of the interests in which they were particularly concerned.

The rail-car heard enough speeches to fill every inch of every mile she travelled with an unfailing succession of words.

The Press took up the tale where the speechmaking left off. 10,000 inches of space were devoted to the rail-car and those associated with it. Busy men forsook the marts to try a ride in it. Statements were composed in it, correspondence was typed in it, interviews were conducted aboard it.

The rail-car was the embodiment of life and movement—wherever it went with its Minister and Manager, there did the crowds gather. The combination of administrators and car was a most fortunate one.
(Govt. Publicity photo.) A sylvan scene near Lake Mahinapua, Westland, South Island, New Zealand.

(Govt. Publicity photo.)
A sylvan scene near Lake Mahinapua, Westland, South Island, New Zealand.

In the Hon. D. G. Sullivan was a Minister whose administration in his few brief months since taking office has shown courage, judgment, imagination and a wide grasp of the transport problem. In the General Manager, Mr. G. H. Mackley, the people recognised one who has been a strong force in the management of the railways for many years and who is now afforded opportunities never before available for putting into effect the plans for managerial developments upon which the future success of the organisation must be based.

The trip was a triumph of organisation, an inspiration of transport, and a bright spot in the lives of tens of thousands who were drawn to the places of call by the magnetism of both men and machine.

As a means of putting the controllers of the railways in touch with their owners and users nothing more effective could have been conceived. And as an instrument for popularising travel by rail, the rail-car has an assured future.