Judge, 1919-05-24 · page 5 of 32
Judge — May 24, 1919 — page 5: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# "The Happy Honking Ground" This satirical story by Don Herold mocks early motorists' obsession with their automobiles. The narrative follows Oscar, who buys a dilapidated car and treats it like a prized possession despite constant mechanical failures. The satire targets the emerging car culture of the 1920s-30s, where owning a vehicle—however unreliable—became a status symbol and source of pride. Oscar ignores Saint Islington's practical advice to fix the carburetor, instead viewing the car's failures as tests of his "true motorist" spirit. The joke critiques how automobile enthusiasm had become almost religious, with motorists willing to endure ridiculous hardships rather than admit their vehicles are fundamentally broken. It's commentary on the irrational devotion consumers show toward new technology regardless of actual performance.
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“Tuts Prace is Aut THE Foupers Say,” Lavcuep Oscar The Happy Honking Ground By Dox Heroip ing Design by Tue HERE is a tradition that all good motorists zo to the Happy Honking Ground. Oscar did Saint Ignition, who corresponds to the pe- strian’s Saint Peter, fitted him out with a license tag, “HAPPY HONK.—3469KX." Oscar, of course, had brought his little old car along. Assistant mechanics put a harp in the tire rack on the rear and “filled him up” with milk, honey, ambrosia and nectar. They threw his extra tires, his tool kit, his jack, and his blowout patches into a scrap pile. “You won't have any trouble here,” they told Oscar. “Thank heaven!” exclaimed Oscar. Then he started to honk away, but before he got very far, Saint Ignition called him back. “We forgot to change your carburetor,” said the Saint, “The altitude makes a difference. And don’t you do everything on high here—even reverse.” ruly it was the Happy Honking Ground. Oscar took a slope of 75 degrees on high, without even retarding the spark. Little round pigs, fat hens, and wobbly ducks ran out before him, and, with true aim, he left them flapping in the road. Bumps in the road as big as buckets caused no more vibration in his car than shadows across the road, His motor never sang so sweetly. his place is all the folders say,” laughed Oscar Thus it went for two weeks. Oscar motored millions of miles. His motor never missed an explosion. He had to stop for gasoline. His tires seemed to improve with age. It actually began to get on his nerves. One day he ran into a tele- phone post, intentionally, just t see what would happen. Nothing happened. He merely bounced and the not even scratched. ‘The next day he put cracked ice into the radiator, but it made no difference. He stuffed the carburetor full of sand, dropped a monkey-wrench into the transmission, cut the fan belt, and cracked a couple of spark plugs with a rock But no difference! forg never car was | * Drawn by Steswr Hoy * How did you feel j Very much run do n, Doctor Avutuor Then Oscar got desperate. “I'll fix it,’ he mut- tered, almost cursin He took the motor out of the chassis and replaced it upside doze But the car ran just as well as ever. Then Oscar became actually ang He starte the main entrance at the rate of 380 miles an hour, and, arriving there, jumped out of the car and grasped Saint Ignition irreverently by the beard. “Say!” he shouted, “you don’t know the heart of « true motorist at all, AT ALL! This isn’t heaven! My gosh! We want trouble! We want to tinker! 1 haven't had a bit of fun since I’ve been here. I want to go home, or to hell, or anywhere ELSE BUT HERE “You have passed the test,” said Saint Ignition “You have the soul of a true motorist. We give every- body the trial. Those who like it, we send back. Go try your car now. I'll wager it will take you a good two weeks to get it to hit on even one cylinder. Wel- come, brother! A-Health Resort ELL, yes, this is about as healthy a place as) anywhere. T guess,” said the landlord of the tavern at Wayoverbehind, in reply to. the inquiry of the spectacled anger. “The deaths from natural causes are so few that it begins to look as if we'd grow top-heavy with oldest inhabitants n't take ‘em out pretty soon and knock ‘em in the head "Most every time anybody attempts to commi 1f for yucan find if we with axes. suicide his civic pride, ot something akes him back out betore he finishe the job. And I sorter got a hint yes- terday that our only undertaker teel obliged to boot-leg spiked cider in hi ice-cream parlor in order to mat honest living.” Robbing Peter to Pay Glass “T wouldn't sell those Bonds just I's a big loss.” “But, Heavens, I've got money for buying the now to hi issue. If Not, Why Not? Morning! Have League of Something or rod you or- ganized Other?