Mr. Bill Stevenson's two gasoline pumps on the curb in front of his produce store on the Main Street in Haddonfield were big business then. The fuel was hand pumped into clear glass five-gallon tanks mounted on six feet high standards. An auto, stopping at the curb for gas, would be served by a hose transferring the fuel by gravity from the glass bowl down into the car's tank. There were no gasoline stations as we have today, and all service work was performed in public garages.

There was a storage battery recharging shop on Haddon Avenue opposite Haddon Fire Company. Auto batteries did not remain charges up as they do today. Nearly every car owner had a spare battery that he kept ready for emergency. Until his car needed it, he ran his new tube radio with it. The shopkeeper, Pep Fowler, always had 12 or more batteries lined up on his charger. If a customer with a dead battery did not have a spare, a service battery was always available.

In wintertime, car radiators had alcohol added to their water to prevent freezing. Constant checks were necessary as alcohol would boil away during the warmth of the day, and it would have to be replenished.

In 1931, an "A" Model Ford could have new tires and tubes at an unbelievable cost. Lee of Conshohocken at wholesale price would supply a tire with an inner tube for six dollars. Of course, there was no state sales tax then to boost the price.

Remember the gasoline was in the 1930's between the fuel companies and the price per gallon dropped to 11 cents per gallon? The public was storing fuel at home in containers, and every time the car was used, a stop would be made at a service station to refill the tank if only a gallon or two were needed. There was always the fear that the war would end suddenly and the bargain would end.

Not too many years ago the law required new license plates had to be on every vehicle on January 1st every year. They were manufactured in the Trenton State Prison.

Remember the Vim motor truck chugging along about 1920 with its 18 inch wide single headlight mounted in the center of the radiator. Tommy Turner, a Haddonfield contractor, was the proud owner of one. The light was an accessory to be attached.  Remember the snappy Status Bear Car road owned by Arthur Teggie, the ice man, in Haddonfield? Under the chassis on both sides was an appliance that pumped air to inflate the tires when the motor was running. That pump was frequently used in those days.

There were two electric cars in Haddonfield. Dr. Clement had one, and Mrs. J. Fithian Tatem owned the other. These cars looked exactly alike in the front and in the back, and were steered by a bar that pulled down across the driver's lap. They did not go very fast, so no speed laws were ever violated.

Lou Round, a Haddonfield retiree, is remembered driving his fireman's red Locomobile roadster before World War I. The two long forward and reverse levers came out of the floorboards by the left leg, the rubber bulbed horn "Honked" when squeezed, and cutouts instead of doors in the sides made entrance and exit fairly easy. What a prize it would be to possess that car today!

Mr. Doughty owned the Apperson Car Agency on the main street near the railroad in Haddonfield. His gas pumps by the curb were well patronized. The big Apperson touring car was a popular model with its two foldaway seats tucked into the backs of the front seat. It had a car robe bar fastened to the back of the front seat. What a treasure it would be to have one of these today.

The commonly heard expression, "It was so simple in the old days," is so true when a comparison is made of the drivers' license law of today compared to the law that existed back in the era of 1910 to 1917.

Now, birth certificates, permits, appointments, written examinations, eye and driving tests are required before an applicant is granted a license to drive a motor vehicle. In an earlier day a beginner driver, coached by an experienced driver, could take a car out on the highway and learn to drive it. Then on any given day a trip down to Sixth and Market Streets could be taken.  The motor vehicle agency there was in a real estate office. A clerk at a desk asked the applicant if he knew how to operate a motor car, what type vehicle he would be operating, and where he would be driving it.

Proof of age was not necessary. A license would be issued at a cost of one or two dollars, the exact amount is not remembered. A permit was unknown, and written, oral, eye, or driving examinations were not required. A retiree in Haddonfield recalls how he drove one of the first delivery trucks in town for the Ellis Meat Market when he secured his license in the manner just described. He drove a  four-cylinder Flanders truck manufactured by the Studebaker Automobile Company in 1912. It had a gearshift which was needed then, as the streets were unpaved. In the winter when the snow ruts froze, it was hard to get the truck around a corner, and it was just as difficult to maneuver the same corner in the mud ruts in the summer.

Before World War I, in the era of 1917, a group of Haddonfield man had a small red painted tin covered wooden lodge on the back trail midway between Atsion and Batsto in the pinelands which is now known as the Wharton Tract. This was their lodge during deer season, and where they sojourned to weekends during the year.

Automobiles were still a rarity in those days, but one member of the group, Russ Wilson, possessed a topless touring car that ran without using gasoline. It used water, as it was a Stanley Steamer.

On any late Saturday afternoon after work, Russ would be an hour or more at his residence on Lake Street filing his vehicle with water, and then with the boiler lit he would be manipulating the little wheels on the dashboard. When everything checked out, the waiting passengers would climb into the monster to travel the 35 miles to the woods.

It was a common sight on a late Sunday afternoon to see that Steamer coming back down Lake Street with a tired disgusted bunch of men. The car's performance had always been faultless, but the tires were another story. There were usually three or four flats on the trip.  One evening, the trip was completed with stuffed with rags to keep them off the rims. The supply of patches and rubber cement had become exhausted.

After outliving it usefulness, the vehicle was parked in the rear of a residence on Hopkins Avenue where the neighborhood kids had a playtoy twisting the many dials and taking imaginative trips. It finally was sent to a junkyard.

What a treasure that Stanley Steamer would be to own today!