She has to have a hand in everything, so why not on the wheel? She didn’t ask for long; she grabbed it and now wields it like a small scepter. Without batting an eyelid, she grips the vibrating Volant with her steely fingers; it yields to the slightest pressure, and she handles it masterfully, forcefully, as though it were a thoroughbred or a bulldog.
We meet her on the highway, the boulevards, on the canals, the lake, the sea, and in the air. First warily, with misgivings, scrutinizing: does she have the nerves, a clear enough view, might she lose her head as easily as her heart; does she possess the necessary physical powers and psychic energy? How sweet that she’s giving it a try, how brave that she’s not on the sidelines, but will she really become – good – reliable?
Our qualms fall by the wayside – praxis proves it! She has prevailed. There is no denying it. Her will conquers the miles; her pleasure in speed gives her prospects. In flying she speeds toward her goals, determined, proud in the knowledge that she is replacing a man without being like him.
The naysayers used to groan: “If she only handled the gear shift as gently as she does her friends and were as careful on the curves as she is with her morals” – today one can plead for the opposite: “If only she were as gentle with her friends as she is with the clutch and as generous in her morals as she is on the curves. . .”
Source: Paula von Reznicek, Auferstehung der Dame. Stuttgart: Dieck & Co Verlag: 1928, p. 126.
Translation: Thomas Dunlap