How Basic Is Basic?

To British motorists, the Government's ending of the "basic petrol ration" last fall had seemed the last heartbreaking straw in the load of enforced joylessness. Except for business and in hardship cases, they would not get one drop of gas for their cars. Even "basic" had been skimpy. The driver of a 30-miles-to-the-gallon Austin could go only 270 miles a month. With the end of "basic" he had nothing for a drive to the station, an occasional shopping trip, or a weekend spin in the country with the family.

Nearly 2,000,000 Britons signed protest petitions which were solemnly lugged into the House of Commons by the bale. Labor M.P.s uneasily totted up the probable number of angry voters: owners of Britain's 1,920,000* private cars and 500,000 motorcycles, probably 6,000,000 other Britons who customarily ride in cars, irate hotel, garage and service-station operators.

Religious Revival. Nevertheless, Sir Stafford Cripps last week frostily informed Britons that "basic" would not be restored. "Politically it would be far easier and much more pleasant to give way to the clamor and reintroduce some basic ration," he said, "but it would from the point of view of the whole population of this country be quite definitely wrong. . . . There are no indications at present that basic may come back this year."

Britons, however, were openly flouting Cripps's decision. A nation which had accepted food rationing and other controls with a minimum of black-marketing rebelled at the ban on private motoring. "The law is falling into a disrepute which reminds one of the U.S. during Prohibition," wrote one independent M.P. to the London Times. The regional petroleum office in the Midlands reported a religious revival, with thousands wanting gas to drive to churches more than two miles from their homes. Many a motorist felt new pangs of rheumatism, sciatica, or old war wounds which made it quite impossible for him to walk to the nearest bus.

In Birmingham, businessmen have been arranging conferences in hotels at night; by a happy coincidence, they and their wives would find that there was a dance in the hotel the same evening. Since farmers are allowed a gas ration for agricultural errands, many a car parked outside a roadside pub has a trailer holding a bewildered sheep or pig. If the owner, inside drinking beer and playing darts, is challenged by the police, he says that he has just broken his necessary journey.

"Drain Trouble." At a recent house party in Gloucestershire, one guest drove up with a load of hay, another with a batch of butter. One Manchester builder always carries drainpipes in the back of his car and wears overalls over his natty $75 suit. Officially, he is always on his way to or from "drain trouble." An enterprising publican near Birmingham bought a hayrick, stuck it in a nearby field, and advertised it "for sale." Farmers could drive to the field to inspect the hayrick and, incidentally, drop into the pub for a pint.

Only a few welcomed the end of "basic." Exulted T. C. Foley, secretary of the Pedestrians' Association: "The economic saving to the country in avoided accidents by the abolition of the basic ration might amount in a full year to as much as -L-10 million, apart from the saving in human life, suffering and bereavement."

* In the peak year (1939) Britain had 2,034,000 private cars. The U.S. in 1947 had more than 30 million.

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