Blow Your Horn

To Bermuda, in the sunny days before the war, a motorcar was a monstrosity. The soothing clop-clop of patient horses on the bright, white coral roads and the occasional cling of a cyclist's bell took the place of whining tires and peremptory blares. Black coachmen were unfailingly polite and the tranquil roads were a pleasure to walk. Five years ago a Governor General resigned in a huff because the Colonial Assembly would not let him have a car for personal use. Exceptions to the rigid ban: fire engines, ambulances, garbage trucks.

War brought jeeps and trucks and waddling busses, a ceaseless need for speed. But people told each other the hubbub was just a part of war. Then last week, the Assembly voted 2-to-1 to lift the ban on private cars, unanimously to permit taxicabs and motorcycles. Barring a legislative afterthought. Bermuda's restful tempo was gone for good.

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