Evening star., 1946-06-03


you will be suspected of being an
international smuggler with police
record longer than - pounds Of
wienies. 1 know what I am talking
about, because this is being written
on the border and judging by the
length of time l have been detained
by the customs sleuth, they have
called Antwerp to find out if ever
handled hot diamonds; Russia to
check if 1 have ever handled hot
furs, France to see if I have ever
been caught running French-fried
potatoes, and Detroit to see if ever
dealt in automobile smuggling.
Going in, my first stop was at
the Canadian customs. The man
in charge turned a third-degree eye
on me and asked what I had. I
told him: A car. some golf clubs,
two suitcases of clothes and box
of Zu-Zus, the latter being a
cracker I learned to love when a
child.
Auto Under Scrutiny.
What are you going to do with
The carr" he asked.
Ride around it," I said.
"And what else?" he demanded.
Nothing else. 'cept grease it and
oil it and gas it up. and put it in a
garage at night I answered.
Where are your registration
papers?" he asked.
I didn't have them. I had left
them at home. I might just as well
have told him that I was on my way
to Ottawa to shoot the Prime
Minister.
All the while an assistant was
hanging out my laundry. That
hurt, because I don't have the sort
of wardrobe that looks good in the
middle of an international high
way Some of my socks had holes
in them, there were a couple Of
pairs of shirts and shorts that
could have used mend or two,
and one pair of shoes was badly
in need Of resoling.
Forced to Go Back.
You'll have to 60 back to the
American customs and get a dec
laration of import for your car"
Sinister Eyes said.
I went back. Sinister Eyes brother
was in charge Of the American end.
Well, if he wasn't his brother he
should have been.
Whats the serial number of your
carr" he asked. staring at me with
a look that all but said, It'll be the
handouts for you, Red"
I said didn't know the serial
number. but I believed it must be
stamped somewhere on the car.
Find it, he said. With what I be-
lieved to be a long-term sentence
for me just around the corner, I
started looking for the serial num-
ber. But I couldn't find 1t. Then I
remembered the booklet on the
Care and Feeding of New Cars"
that was in the glove compartment,
and remembered that it told where
the serial number was located. I
got little manual and it said the
number was stamped on the left
side of the front frame cross men,
ber.
You'll find the number on the
left side of the front frame cross
member" I said triumphantly.
Where is that?" he said.
I would much rather that he
asked me to recite Pilgrims Progress
backwards.
Checked the Number.
So we started looking for the
front frame cross member. We
looked under the seats, under the
foorboard, on the dashboard and
everywhere else. He started at the
back end of the car, and I started
at the front. When we met. just
this side of the drivers seat, we
both were empty handed
I know he thought had hidden
the missing cross member.
Finally. just when instinct told
me that he was going to march me
off to the hoosegow. fellow traveller
asked what was the matter and. on
being told. showed us where to look.
This last paragraph is being writ
ten while the Canadian customs
men are looking through the lining
of my hat for something. 1t strikes
me as odd that two great countries
which are such great friends,
couldn't work out a policy which
would enable their citizens to cross
an imaginary line without having
to endure such real inconvenience.
Good thing, though. no customs
men looked in the false heel of my
right shoe. Would they have gotten