Marcus Telcontar
Oct 2nd, 2002, 06:37:17 AM
I found a good one I had published a few years ago.
Enjoy :)
Hitching a ride
Rallying the Easy way
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Lets just start this story, (which, by the way was not a lost writing of Banjo Patterson, so don't go expecting quality typing in this badly used disk space imitation of a thumbnail dipped in tar) by saying that if you want to go rallying the easy way, go to an anti One Nation protest rally, for the art of motor vehicle rallying is equivalent to bashing one's head against a concrete floor for fun. It's frustrating, it can hurt, it appears not to have any point and it feels so good when you stop.
Have we got any illusion out of your head that rallying is easy? Yes? Good. You may read on.
Note : Anyone who has never read anything I have typed before may find references to previous events confusing. Personally, I don't care. Explaining and converting previous scratchings to web-space would take up more server space than IS-1 has in total.
It seems like a lifetime ago that The Alliance went forth into a forest, getting any piece of scrap that could be vaguely called a motorized conveyance and hoping that fate would turn the blind eye and we would come out of the forest with the car in no more than double digit pieces. Events have surely changed all that. Decent cars, different attitudes, a wife for one, a child for another, new members plus a spelling mistake have turned the once infamous UnHoly Alliance into Aliance MotorSport.
Now, where is all this dribble leading to? Well, how to rally, doing the job properly our way. Now, is there actually a tried and true method for preparing a car for it's time dancing between trees? I think so. For starters, get a good base to work from. If you start from something bad, it will never get any better, unless of course you are Matthew Martin. That doesn't prove anything except you can work miracles using bog, a spray can, coat-hanger and a huge overdraft on your Mastercard. I would not recommend doing things that way, it is as difficult for the average human to do this as it is for a budgie to explode into flames unassisted. Trust me, I know :).
So, with this background, where do I start? Well, how about from the fact this story could begin with a barstard dressed as a Police Officer. No, this is not a harsh description as no person who has been booked by this <expletive> would have any polite words for this poofter power-tripper. He has always deliberately been after rally cars and all I can say is that I'm glad he's no longer in Buladelah. I got done for a so-called dangerous roll cage and illegal seat belts, then defected in such a way I could not compete at a rally I was entered in that day, this event being in April 96. Was I happy? No. When after getting home I discovered the tailshaft bolts were loose and I probably would have lost the shaft in the rally.Was I now happy? No. But my displeasure had been abated somewhat.
Time passed.
The car was left under cover for nearly a year, with no money and no real time to fix it. I'm off doing other things (like getting ready for a wedding ) and The UnHoly Alliance appeared to be no more. Adrian was out with his lady with child, Peter had no money (but a brilliant car), I'm getting myself out of trouble and into Christianity and Keith was left by himself. Gone. No more. That was a sad time as we had some real fun in the Alliance days.
Time passed
And onto May 97 and what could be called a new beginning. Peter, myself and Adrian form the basis of Alliance, a company designed to further our motor sport. It's about the first thing we have done sensibly as a group, ever. To our surprise, when we go the register the business name, just about every Alliance name combination was already taken. One quick spelling mistake corrected that and Aliance MotorSport was born. Then came Aliance M-S Technology, our computer technology company. Okay, this is a bit boring and tedious, but I just want you to get a bit of background information (and it's a bit of a shameless plug too). So, we now had three guys, usually without a clue and one perennially finished RX-2, another RX-2 needing a lot of work, no money, no hope of seeing another rally and plenty of commitments we never had before. What did we do? Like any logical mechanic, we threw a spanner at my RX-2 to see what happened. It bounced back and hit us.
After wiping off the blood from the driveway, we took this as the car daring us to get it working and road registered again. Not for us the easy path of Rally Registration which for me would still leave a car I basically could not use, except in competition and it's even more expensive to boot. Hence, the decision to do the job properly.
Hang on, did I hear this right? Us, do things the long and proper way, no shortcuts or half measures? This was a bit odd! After all, this is the same people who built a Mini on borrowed parts and painted a rallycar Mission Brown with a paintbrush, to name but a tiny portion of our misdeeds. I wondered how long our new found "do it right" resolve would last. Betting started at three weeks.
Be that as it may, the first thing to do when building a car is to set a target for its debut. This was set August 23, a rally in the Shoalhaven district. That's good. Next, examine finance. Hmmm, in our case the 0's in the account were at the wrong end of the account - at the beginning. This was not so good. Then examine what has to be done to the car. This was very not so good. In my case, the last thing to do in this process is to tell all this to the wife. This was very baaaaaad. Helen just did not want to know about it. Little did she know what was to be in store for her in a few months time - or then again, maybe she did, evident by the way she was acting (i.e. - trying to avoid anything to do with the car). Don't ask me, I have really no idea.
Out comes the toolbox. Out comes the spares. Out comes the suspension. Out comes the spray paint. Out comes.... Hey, what's this?? The front suspension bushes were so destroyed, it actually looked like a piece of charcoal. Okay, I'm confused, this car has never caught fire (yet...) and we have a clear case of fire damage, which also explained the strange handling. After some thought, we conclude that someone DROVE this thing fast enough over a rough surface, for the friction in the suspension parts to get the rubber bushes up to ignition temperature. Considering that this car was built by a Minister of Religion for the 1974 Southern Cross (He must have got a blessing on the car. I can't figure out how a rallycar could have survived this long otherwise), been through several owners, won several club and state championships, held lap records at Catalina and elsewhere, it is indeed possible that somebody drove the car hard enough to set the suspension bushes on fire. But considering I have never heard of this before in fast rallycars, it really staggers me just how fast the car was traveling to me this happen.......
Just a wee bit faster than I'm capable of driving.
With a nice new set of yellow Nolathane bushes pressed into service, plus a spare road going differential assembly (for the fitting of a cable handbrake, this was impossible on the race rear end) and a front end overhaul, the handling is transformed. Transformed to what I have no idea, as driving around the block once or twice fast with most of the major panels missing, the seats loose and no belts is not a good way to endear yourself to the long-suffering neighbors. At least this time there was no custom built spray booth, no loud music till 3am, no causing chemical spills that create a major NBC alert for the nearest four kilometers, no loud bangs of Vogon Engineer modifications and finally, no exploding balls of flame and budgie cage pieces breaking windows. Not even the quiet and serene scream of a chainsaw wielding bird chasing the latest cat who didn't realise what the cat exclusion zone sign meant (Unfortunately, that bird departed this existence and joined the Budgie chainsaw gang, chasing celestial cats for the rest of eternity. No more exploding IRA alarm clocks, or sneak attacks with blenders. Like will be a bit less interesting...). All there was two or three people, working respectable hours (read - when no-one else was there) and still doing things right, fours weeks back into the project. Well, we may still be somehow doing things right, but enthusiasm was waning, along with the non-existent bank balance. Winter is also not a good time to work on the car out in the open.
August 97 - So we missed the original target. The seats were proving a nightmare, due to butchered seat mounts, the steering column was still loose, there were no fuel lines, the fuel pumps were proving a challenge to fit in the boot and the exhaust had huge holes in it. At least the boot had been repaired and repainted, as had the interior, even though the window tinting needed to be removed. The battery was now resident in a nice new battery box in the boot and the roll cage pieces not needed for six-point road registration removed. Some of the many stickers had gone courtesy of a hairdryer, sticker scraper, a red rose, two pints of window cleaner, a four-inch grinder (I had no idea humans came that small) and a bottle of mild battery acid, better known as that wonderful gut corrosive Coke. And for once, that's what I really used. The red rose takes some explaining (well, it was an accident...) but Coke has some incredible solvent capability which was used to good effect. And I actually drink the stuff?!?!?
- As a quick aside, the fuel tank gave us another thing for though. It mounts between the rear strut towers, was a mongrel to get out and had two bloody huge dents in it on either side. Sort of the same that could have happened if the strut towers had crushed into it in say a huge rollover. More indication on how hard this car had been driven in the past? -
The target was now September, the bank balance still had too many zero's in it on the wrong side of the decimal point, the list of things to do was shorter (but not by much) and Helen was starting make noises of interest. Mainly because she was told she would be navigating in the first event back.
September saw the seats somehow remounted and the harness mounts widened to accept eyehooks, the fuel lines fitted in one very professional job (this was inserted so Peter, who did most of the real tricky work could get an ego boost), interior repainted repaired after it had been basically stuffed by too much exposure to welders and angle grinders, Front guards and doors repainted after I had stumbled on a matching paint, handbrake cable refitted, a crack in some sheet metal fixed and for the first time in nearly two years, the car was washed. The result was frightening. There was a very presentable RX-2 under all that dirt and grease.
Of course we missed another target, so the final target was set. We had to make a rally at Hampton, 26th October and as a fall back, the Wagga Wagga State rally championship round on 8th November. With the bank balance still zeros and the list of thing to do smaller again but still formidable, it was not an easy task. However, Helen had resigned herself to the silly seat, so at least one thing was sort of in my favor - I think I can get everything now done in time.
October, especially at the beginning of the month is the traditional time of working on cars whilst people raced cars around some place called Mt Panorama. Considering there was still an incomplete rally car, spending time watching Bathurst I suppose would not make sense. But why start making sense now. The whole Aliance was supposed to go to both Bathurst events, but we had to make do with October 19, and the V8's. Pity, as it would have been nice to have the entire mountain for ourselves on raceday. So, after watching a sort of interesting 2L telecast (and the -DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR- that described a Peugeot 406 as having a rear differential should have been shot - unfortunately that was the standard of commentary all day. Okay race, telecast sucked) I'm off working on the RX-2, taking the exhaust off to effect repairs and the bloody car bites me. Ever had your hand slammed in between FBH's (F***ing Big Hammers)? No? Then the same effect can be had by sticking one's hand between two crashing semi's or having the ring spanner you are using slip whilst undoing exhaust bolts and your hand cannon into the inlet manifold with all the force of a crashing F-18. Ow.
So, after swearing and wondering if that hurt Cameron - Don't ask me where that came from, ask Matthew Martin - email address supplied at the bottom of the page - the exhaust comes off. Well, lets be precise.... fell off in lots of pieces. So much for a so called professional job by a so called professional exhaust maker. It was one of the worst jobs I have ever seen and no wonder I had some unexplained exhaust noises and problems ever since I got ripped off for it. I have no money for a new one, so I get convinced that it could be repaired. So, off to Dean at Mazpower Racing and he TIG'ed the pieces together and filled the many holes. Well, well, well.... looked good. But it was almost impossible to get back on, even with the great hat strength of our mate Adam. A bit of fiddling, axle grease, kitten polish, a block and tackle, two kilos of dynamite and a gentle tap with a 10 kilo FBH that sounded like a bomb going off (funny, there's no budgie here anymore...... ) and the exhaust is persuaded that it would be in it's best interest to resume it's correct place on the car. Start the car up.... niiiiccceeeeee. Drive the car..... niiiiiicccceeeeee. Realise the seat mounts are not working as intended. Baaaaaaaaaaddddddddd.
Mid October sees us off to the real Bathurst and if Nathan Wong or other one eyed 2L supporter ever reads this, V8's will always be the real Bathurst. 2L just dont look and sound right. By themselves 2L are okay, but put up to the V8's they suck. My e-mail address for your flames in reply will be supplied below ;-)
But should we not be working on the rallycar? Maybe, but we have got the list down to only a handful of items, the bank balance finally had a balance other than a negative, the target of 26th October looked achievable (I had even got an entry form for both Oberon and Wagga - wishful thinking?) and Helen was committed. I would be allowed to have her released from the loony asylum for either rally, which frankly is the best place for a decent navigator. One can hardly select a navigator on the basis of personal habits., because navigators are Strange Folk, like hobbits or nuclear physicists or brain surgeons. Just because he / she like picking one's nose and rolling little balls that he / she drolls and flicks out the window by you, torture little kittens, exchange e-mail with Charles Manson on a first name basis, respect Aldof Hitler as a great human being, has a big call for Herbie down the side of the car every time you get airborne and can understand the law relating to Internet censorship, don't mean that you should take umbrage and leave him/her standing by the side of the Snowy Mountains Highway nude at 3am on a brisk July morning (or book them on a skiing holiday in Thredbo). You just have to grin and bear it, on the basis that if anyone is stupid enough to sit besides you and read maps and do mathematical calculations that would leave Einstein confused (while you are indulging in your long- held conviction that the only difference between you and Colin McRae is luck and a huge bank balance), then he/she must be a genius / eccentric a loony and if any, be tolerated with a faint smile and the occasional pat on the head.
So, here we are up at Bathurst, watching the great V8's and that awesome Dodge Viper, driven by none other than His royal appliance, the great rally driver and triple Australian rally champ Neal Bates. Here, we join the members of SLOSH (Society for Long Orgies and Short Holidays) up on the Mountain. Funny, the animals look well behaved..... unexpected this.
In fact, the whole weekend was quiet, even with Adrian's young child Riley there. Could have something to do with the fact we were in a private paddock with no crowds, a house to stay in, a fridge, lots of food and none of the 50,000+ crowd near us. Ahhh, my idea of roughing it.
So, back to Sydney and the rallycar. So confident was we, I got an entry form for Wagga. We could have made Oberon, but the car would be untried and who knows what what would fall off. Anyway, the great Chicken deity, Keith Ross was to be rallying at this event, in his newly acquired Gemini, fully paid by sponsor Australian Canopies and navigated by Adrian, serviced by Peter, Helen, Kirsty and Me. The Aliance returns to the forest! See separate story (maybe...).
October 20 - I buy my wife a kitten named Razor. I hate cats. She loves cats. Maybe its a guilt trip on getting her in on this rallying thing.
Anyway, getting back to the point (which I have never been even close to, so why bother?) the car is now booked for an engineer inspection. Which we make in a burst of last minute activity and the seat mounts, which were finished just as we left home, needed a bit more metal, sun visors needed replacing and the car cleaned. Simple mods and the car passed the hardest part of the rego process with flying colours on October 24 - but Wagga was looming.......
October 29 and the car gets blue slipped. I needed to replace one tire, replace blinker can and get a weightbrigde ticket. Enter Wagga rally, despite the fact I have not registered the car - but then again, how could I not now? The things to do were easy. I even had just banked to dollars to do it. (Believe me, up to this point I had everyone on tenderhooks - will he enter? wont he enter? Even I had not decided up to this point). Get pulled over by a policeman while getting weightbridge ticket. Wasn't he disappointed I was legally driving an unregistered car and he could not fine me! Hah Hah! Pass Blueslip examination. Buy Green slip from Shannon's Insurance (My car is deemed a "classic" and hence can get cut price insurance from them - don't know on whose idea of classic it is, however!)
Friday, 31st October. With Insurance slip, Blue Slip, the wrong copy of the engineers report (which we corrected), company business name registration, pink carnation and required dollars, Peter and I went to the RTA in the final (and for me, by far the easiest step) in getting the car registered. Easy in the end? No, not by a long shot. And unlike the rest of this type-written excuse for a story this next part is 100% true.
We get to RTA and line up half an hour, only to find out the paperwork foul-up and I'm still convinced that it was the RTA who did not know the rules. So off we go and fix that and line up for another half hour. The RTA dude confirmed the paperwork was now okay and then proceeds to a) do an id check on me that takes ten minutes and umpteen bits of paper printed then b) a history check on the car, including REVS check and a check on the stolen vehicle register. The car comes up as stolen. Which, considering I know the history of the car for the last six years is impossible. And I was the last registered owner of the thing. I insist they have made a mistake. Not according to them, the engine is definantly off a stolen car, registered as the plates I handed in from this car 18 months ago. Okay, this is bull-DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR- and I tell them so. Fix it as IT IS NOT STOLEN. Okay sez the RTA dude, I'll find out what happened. So now we wait for twenty minutes and now way past RTA closing time. And finally the answer. My engine number was linked, with my former plates UDB 864 to a stolen trailer with plates UDB864. A stolen motorised trailer. This had to be a joke. No, there it was, a NSW registered trailer, UDB864 with a rotary motor was reported stolen on the day I handed those plates back.
At least it gave us a much needed laugh.
So, that was cleared up and the computer paper trail generated to show the mistake and the corrections.... only another twenty minutes! It seemed like every employee in the RTA had to approve this or that or wanted to view this paper and of course this had to be filed....
But that was all worth it when I bolted the nice, new plates to the car. There, You CAN legally register a rallycar with a full rollcage and racing harness, plus modified brakes, suspension, seats etc in NSW if you do everything right and to the rulebook.
Well, since the decision to do everything properly, it has now been five months and the "do it right" disease is showing no signs of a cure. Surprising really because I have managed to cure that disease easily in the past.
Next was to organise the team. Adrian and his missus Kirsty were going (and trying to get accomodation for us all), plus my wife as navigator, plus the great and most worthy Chicken Deity Keith Ross and a promised 4wd he has dubbed Baby Huey, the logic of that name defies me. Okay Keith, you are quite correct, logic usually defies me. I'ld just thought I'ld say that before you did.However, the rest of Alaince was NOT going! Hatman Adam was off on a beach mission (probably to invade NZ) and Andrew was inconsiderate enough to have a birthday and was partying down and Peter was also going to that party.
Monday, 3rd November was where the countdown really began with a feeble attempt to pack the now race ready Mazda. Well, apart from a non-functional distance measureing device (known as a Terratrip and I can attest to as what a heap of -DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR- they are, I have done too many rallies with a failed terratrip), but that really wasn't worrying me, it was in fact to be expected. Terratrips are overpriced and under-engineered heaps of -DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR-. When you expect water and dust (and what rally does not have both of those in quantity?) to get into the cabin, would you not expect so-called purpose built rallying electronics to be dust sealed and waterproofed? Yes? Well, both of Aliance's terratrips not only permit dust and water into them, as well as a monkey with muscle spasms could do a better job putting them together. I wish I had a Branz distance measureing device (Not for the last time either!).
Now, with time running out, thoughts startup about "what have I missed on the car?". "Oh -DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR-!!!" and off to a quick parts grab at Revolution Racegear and the ertwhile manager Nathan Stephens, another dead-keen rally type. His cash till and my wallet seem to have some sort of syphon device for pocket weight reduction. Not because things are expensive there, but I do always seem to leave with more than I came to buy in the first place. Methinks thats a clear sign that place actually carries things that a racer like me could actually want! (the old "I only wanted a bolt...." syndrome). Ayway Nathan and his gang of paid hooligans are pretty cool to chat to.
Tursday 6th November. Helen's packing night. She's nervous and as jumpy as a kitten on a hot stove (which if the Animal Libbers ask me, I know nothing about ;-)).I'm leaving mid-afternoon for Wagga and she needs to work Keith is giving her a lift friday evening. Adrian and Kirsty will be following the Stolen Trailer in their Datsun.
Friday 7th November. With an ear shattering BANG!!!!! a booby trapped kitty litter tray and small kitten sent into sub orbit wake me too early. Pausing ony by getting hit by the aforementioned feline (who has just achived a re-entry speed close to a space shuttle), I'm off to Revolution Racegear again to get a few more parts (and actually get away with most of my money in pocket). Off I go to Peter's place for a final go making the maligned terratrip work. Beat of a sudden attack by a cash register and return it to Revolution Racegear. Get to Peter's place, pack rally tyres and fail totally to get terratrip working. Leave late. Pause to pick up forgotten paperwork. Off I g...... no back to pick up more forgotten paperwork. Off I go to Hele..... no, back to get another forgotten item. Off I go to Helen's parent plac....... no, back to lock up stowaway kitten. Off I go to Helen's parent's place to drop off house keys.
And finally, after five months I point the nose of the Stolen Trailer towards a rally. Wagga Wagga here we come!
To be continued.......
To Hitching a ride - Part II
Hitching a ride II
Rallying the easy way (not!)
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You may have noticed I have changed the title of this scrap bit-on-a-disk-drive and why not, its my story and I will do what I want, arrogant pig-dog, hah hah!
Well, actually it's because as I explained in the last html enhaced (?) action packed, brilliant(!) episode, there is no such thing as rallying the easy way. It's all blood, sweat and kitten bombings.
HEY!!!! LISTEN TO AN RX-2 BY CLICKING HERE!!!!!!!
(the above will soon be in Real Audio - as soon as I can figure out how!!)
Now, where was I? Ahhh, yes, I'm heading to Wagga Wagga, the day before the Ray White Rally of the Pines in what they claim is God's own rally rally roads, Carabost forests.
80kms out of Sydney there is a serivce staion at Pheasents Nest where I get the bad news Adrian and Kirsty got out of home late (That now being 4:30pm, scrutineering for the rally starts 7:00pm and finishes 11:00pm). I have 360km to go, traffic is not good and I have to empty and get the final bits on the car (like rally tyres) on, as well as find accomodation. Adrian rang damn near everywhere in Wagga and got nothing.... oh dear this is not looking good. All I can do is point the car down the required road and really move.......
8:00pm. Wagga Wagga. Finally made it and I have no idea how, but the first place I go to for a spare caravan has plenty. I guess we instructed Adrian to search in the wrong place? Anyway, enough of that. Unpack the Stolen Trailer and get rally tyres on. finished at 9:30pm. Adrian and Kirsty are at Gundagai now, so I have one hour to get to scrutineering and meet them at the assigned place.
10:00pm, scrutineering. Problems? What with us registering the car only a week ago? No sweat! No hitches and then to the sound test (all rally cars must have a noise limit at a certain RPM. Mine is 5000rpm and 96dba, measured 90 degrees and 1 meter from the end of the exhaust pipe) And it's..... 95.6 dba. That was close. Too close for my liking. In fact this whole experience up to now has been a case of one big close shave. The car was just quiet enough. We only just got here. We only just got accomodation in the last place left. We only got the car registered..... I think I am picking up a pattern here and I dont like this. What else is going to be a close call?
10:30pm, dead on time for once is Adrian and Kirsty. Cool. We have no idea however where Helen and Keith are. They are on the way here, but my mobile phone, which Helen has so we can let them know where we are staying is switched off. -DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR-. At least we have an agreed meeting point but who knows when? We know they left at 6pm and they are driving Baby Huey. I bet 12:30am earliest. Great, just what we need, a late night before an early start. We have to report to rally HQ by 8:00am....
11:30pm. While we are having dinner at a service station diner, I see Baby Huey go past. Whew. In bed by maybe 1am? Better than what I thought....
12am. Ahh, Caravan, sweet caravan. Maybe sleep at last. As the only married couple Helen and me have claimed the double bed. Just becuase the double just happens to be the most comfortable bed too had nothing to do with my choice. Okay, after all the last few weeks effort, I'm going to bed. Helen and Adrian however are staying up to discuss the gentle art of navigation.... it would be a good idea if Helen had some idea what she was supposed to do... and as navigator instructor I make a good turkey plucker. I may be a good nav, but I couldn't explain a thing about the gentle art of guiding a self-deluded maniac who thinks he should be relpacing Colin McRae at Prodrive while dancing the car through a buch of killer trees just waiting to claim another rallycar, juggling time cards, route charts, pens, reset devices and knowing left from right. The left and right bit gets me every time. Funny thing is, when I navigate, I know my left and rights. Any other time, I'm stuffed. It to has dyslexia with my i think to do.....
Wake up call on the mobile, 6:00am, Saturday 8th November, 1997, Rally day. With an enormous BANG!!!!!! the IRA mobile explodes into a zillion flaming pieces, setting fire to the moo-cows in the paddock nextstore. Funny, I thought I heard the chirping of a maniac budgie flying away with an evil tweet. Dusting the the now smouldering pieces of us, we get out of the remains of the 'van, pack the service Huey, put the racing numbers on the car (No. 49 we are, out of 53), fill up cars watched by the owner of the van park, wondering how a perfectly good van could explode for no apparent reason, then off to the the rally HQ to muster with the other crews for the rally start.
7:45am Rally HQ. At Wagga Wagga Beach. At 400 km inland, theres -DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--all surf here. And now to wait and to try and fix this blasted terratrip, wishing I had a Branz instead. Not for the last time either. Helen is still bemused as to what she is to do with navigation bit and for the first time ever, I'm not nervous, but chafing at the bit to get into it. But, being so far back and the car's leaving every two minutes from 8:15, we have to wait until 9:53 until we can leave.
9:53am and finally, after watching everyone else leave, we are strapped in and waved away from the HQ onto the dusty unknown. Helen's nervous but coping. I'm not nervous and I'm not coping with that. Where is the last minute panic? At least the terratrip's clock functions work as nothing on the mongruel piece of electronics is. Oh well, we will cope, it's not like that has not happened before.
Halfway through 72.48 liason (transport) stage to the forest - I have always wondered what women do when there are no toilets. Now I know. Poor Helen has no hope of a bathroom until lunchtime.....
First service point .........but then again she could and does improvise. Day is hot. Water will be critical and I have already drunk a litre. I'm dripping with sweat and we wehre only driving out here, not racing!. Service crew is nowhere in site (only because I didn't see them waving me down) and its time to start racing proper.
Stage 1 (Argyle Junior, 7.94 kms) And after seeing the service crew only after lining up and getting the famous rally start countdown, in a cacpony of wheel spin, rocks flying and engine nise and a seconfd gear crunch, we begin racing. First corner is a tight one, so on comes the handbrake for a "handbrake turn".... nothing!!! Okay, something had to go wrong, so I will accept this. I know Argyle fairly well, so it's long straights and tight corners are not a surprise. Despite no terratrip, Helens calling very well (especially as a first timer) and the car is just bloody brilliant. Ahhh, this was definantly worth it! The car is a bit "taily" coming into corners, but thats actually helping turn the car. Dust, a big worry for me is surprisingly non existant - considering the hot and dry conditions, that's a welcome surprise. Finish control and its 6:28 for us. slow compared to the 4wd mob, but not too bad. I'm happy and do I detect a note of Helen enjoyed the ride? I saw 155kph down one straight, so for the first time I'm in a rallycar that isn't nervous over high-speed or rough roads, not that there have been any real rough stuff yet. Service point is a case of clean windscreen, check exhaust, drink three cups of cordial (it is nearing 50 degrees + in the car ) and off to the next stage. Lose way on transport, but realise mistake and get to control 4 minutes late.
Stage 2 (Miles Block, 6.83km). I have done this stage 3 times before, twice in torrential rain and all in the opposite direction to what we are about to do. In fact, now I think of it, I have never rallied in Wagga before without some rain falling. Considering how bone dry the place is and the fact that the torrential rain times was the ONLY time it had rained in twelve months, I have surprisingly never seen this place dry. It has been worth the wait, as well as section of road that went Cuation Crest, then 70m crest, then 70m Yump. 120kph at the yump and the stomach gets a good workover. I wish I had gone into it harder.... Finish sees 5:40. Second service sees yet more copious quantities of cordial and water and bite to eat. Car, apart from the accursed terratrip is perfect. Unique for me, by now other cars I have rallied would be showing signs of falling to pieces. But then again, I suppose a car running as required is what you get for doing things right.
Stage 3 (Mantons Ridge, 11.24kms) Apart from a problem finding the stage, onward we go again Now I asked before why others have caled this god's own rally country. Now I know. Manton's Ridge is a stage I have never done before and it MUST be the best bit of rally road in existance. Wide, smooth, lighting fast, corners that flow into one another, first time I have taken corners so fast, ever. Rarely got below 110 kph. Staggering. Helen states she's has not been scared yet. I pick up speed. She says she has just changed her mind. The other stages have been great, but this is something else again. Finish control and I almost turned around to do it again. 7:47.
Stage 4 (Akuna Ridge, 8.64 kms) Top stage with an absolute car killing dip taken at 20kph. Also a great stage, but in comparision to Manton's ridge, almost boring. But I did catch and overtake someone for the first time (talk about an ego trip!), which bit into the time we achived. 7:05, probably lost 30seconds overtaking the other vehicle. Akuna ridge for some reason seems to be 10 degrees hotter than anywhere else, car temperatures really soared as a result and I want a drink badly. The day is also giving my physical fitness a workover, not that I was fit to start with. Thank goodness for the first meal break at Humula coming up.
Meal break 1 - Toilets!!!!! Helen runs for it like a.... well desperate person for a toilet. Food!!! Hot Dogs!!! How can I say that in the same breath!!!
After a few litres of drink its up with the feet and relax, after examining the rolled Datsun 1200 and another RX-2 with bad over-heating problems. Car is checked and found still to be a car. Nothing is falling off and its looking like nothing will. Not even the exhaust, much to my relief. And I find a few fellow competitors and start up a "Bull-DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR- Rally Story" session while we are waiting for our times to depart. "The car did this..." "Hit a 'roo" "Did a pike and roll", "Wasn't that road brilliant?", "You broke waht?", "I hate cats" "Whay about..." and so on. Actually, a Bull-DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR- Rally story, by definition is NOT bull-DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR-. What it is, is a group of rally competitors, telling their tales of the day. They are called bull-DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR- because a) no sane person would get up to this in the first place and b) a non rally intruder would be liable, when hearing about the latest near miss, exclaim "BULL-DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR-!!!". The reaction of the accused rally competitor will be to belt the unbeliever over the head with a large hammer. Is this a bull-DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR- rally story? Mostly, yes. The rest of it is bull-DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR-. Oddly, Bull-DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR- rally stories are almost always told by blokes, so its odd to hear Helen talking to fellow navigators and other drivers.... wait up....no, I dont believe it.... she's TELLING BULL-DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR- RALLY STORIES!!!! Damn, I KNEW I had married the right woman! Navigator and story teller all rolled into one. No, bugger off, she MINE you hear? All MINE!!!! HAH HAH!
And then after a too short break, off Helen and I go into the wilderness... after a few moments we realise the car has not come with us so we go back and collect it. And off we go again!
Stage 5 (Wyuna, 11.49 kms) - And its a BIG difference from the fast and open stages we have already had. This one is narrow, winding and its noticably rougher than the first sections. It's rain affected and traditionally would present a problem to the car's I have rallied before. Not this one. The suspension work I did has really paid off, as we don't back off for any of the rough stuff. The only real straight, a 1.2 km rut filled narrow road called Mundaroo Trig, saw us doing 155kph, sideways and airborne. To me, this will be THE memory I cherish most. It was bloody exciting stuff. Time taken 9:24. Not too bad.
Stage 6 (Rosewood Trig, 14.42km) - This was tighter again, very hilly as well and not as enjoyable as the previous stages. However, still a challenge to drive, a challenge I lost. For the second time at Wagga, I went off the road and got stuck. Somewhere about 6 or 7 kms into the stage, I went too wide at the entry of a really what was a simple right hooker, should have been quick dab on the brakes, swing the car right and away I go. Nope. Went wide, locked the brakes and slid off. This was bad. Hit something with sumpguard hard whcih stopped me. That was very bad. Put car into reverse and car was stuck This was very bad. Stop, unto harness, open door to inspect situation and noticed smoke. Me thinks smoke? Should that not be dust? Oh oh. This could be extremely bad. Get out of car and look under car. Wished I didn't The exhaust, which often works at 600 degrees centigrade has set the scrub and dead leaves the car ploughed into on fire. Okay, no panic, I have two fire extingushers. Helen notices me go for one extingusher. Break seal on extingusher, aim at fire and pull trigger. Not a problem, situation under control.
Like -DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR- it was. The fire extingusher failed to work I decided this would be a very good time to panic.
Screaming at Helen to get the other extingusher, I used the only option I had at the time - I beat the fire out with my hands. This hurt. Helen got other extingusher and thank you God, it worked. Not well, in fact quite badly, but it was enough.
Okay, so after the panic was over, now was the time to coldly assess the situation. Hmm, back wheels on the road, not bad, but the gearbox is resting on a stump that was obsured by the natural road drop off. The front wheels are off the deck by a foot. Hmm. Okay, we are not going anywhere in a hurry, so lets try a few things. You never know...
30 minutes later - I tried putting wood under the rear tyres to give them traction, jcaking the car up and driving it off the jack, putting wood under the front wheels until the sump guard cleared the stump and I had it within 1 cm of getting the car off the stump, The sump guard, that wonderful device that protected the sump and radiators from being destroyed, was now catching on the stump, stopoing the car from being put back on the road. Frustrating. The wood was too old and just distintergrated when the car's weight was put on it (otherwise would have worked), the jack was not strong enough (otherwise that would have worked) and the sweep car with its two occupants was not quite enough either. Along comes the recovery vehicle, with it's load of DNF'ed crews. The driver is informed that we can be put back on the road quite easily. He gets a chain out, hitches it to the tow hook and BANG slide, back on the road. Easy in the end. The now useless extingushers, jack and warning triangles are thrown back in the car by the willing helpers and away Helen and I, much dirtier, sweatier and in my case, burnt and cut. My hands are blistered and bleeding, the damage has been increased by dirt and wood infections into the wounds and in fairly urgent need of first-aid. Steering the car was a real trial now.
And finally, the stage was finished...... 1:01:14. Surprised we got here at all. We must be out of late time now. (Late time being how many minutes behind your personal schedule as worked out by the control officials you are, if you are)
Going to next service, I'm doing mental sums..... okay we lost four minutes late time earlier, we have 10 minutes service time and we were due to book in at this time.... we are now 35 minutes after that time and have 4 km to the next control... we have 45 minutes late time to use in total.... Bloody Hell! We are still offically in the rally - I dont believe it! Stopping only to tell the faithful service crew (who were informed of out plight and were waiting in the vain hope we could get out under our own power) to get to the next service point with lots of water and first-aid as a priority, we are off to the next stage.... and book in with 2 minutes late time left. That was close. But more to the point, we can still go on.
Stage 7 (Central, 17.21km) - I dont remember anything about this one, except I was driving dead cautious as any mistake now would be the end of the rally and my hands were in a lot of pain. Oh, and Matthew Martin was viewed on the side of the road, waving me on... and the infamous Datsun Insult parked well off the road and it looked bent. 19:46
Service point never looked so good. As I drank litres of juice (as did Helen), Adrian and Keith looked the car over and Kirsty got the rather incredible hospital Adrian called a first-aid box to look at my hands. The car was fine, I wasn't. Okay, the saline clean for all the crap in the wounds.... that hurt. Dettol next for disinfection.... that really hurt...... and then the iodine. Okay, I admit it, I wandered off and screamed in pain because THAT REALLY F****** HURT. Then it's all bandaged up and my racing gloves put over the top. A few minutes to recover, then off to the next stage, hands now in somewhat better condition.
Stage 8 (Vyners Creek, 29.27 Kms) - Long. Very long. Straights were unbelievable. Pity I was in no mistake mode, as the 2 km + rollercoaster straight would have been incredible. As it was, it was fun at 110 kph. Noted that this was the first time that when a double (ie slow down and be concerned) caution was called, I went from third to fourth. This newly resigned suspension system was really proving its worth now. 25:48, Could have gone a mile faster, but for the fact I'm in finish at all cost mode.
And to the 20 minute service. Lots of water, another checkover of the car, another hand fixup. And a sitdown rest. Ahh, that feels good.
Stage 9 (Bulalgee Hill, 16.30 km) - Roughest stage, I think. Certainly the hardest to find without a tripmeter, followed all sorts of narrow tracks and paths to find. Very relieved to find start control. Pot holes were of interesting size... I think The car just did not notice them. I do remember thinking I wished I had a working handbrake as I slid through a hairpin corner..... some interesting drop-offs - you know the ones, if you fell off them, your clothes would be out of fashion before you hit the bottom. However, considering what I wear, that height would be measured in negatives, so dont use me as a guide.13:56.
Stage 10 (Triffitts, 10.69km) - Done in the reverse direction for the first time have ever done it and not as much fun as last year. Dont know wether that was the heat, the lateness of the hour, the sun shining in my face as I crested hills, or just sheer "will this rally PLEASE end!". It has been a long day. Spectactor point, but no spectactors. 9:25
Final service point. Two stages that we have already graced left to do. The rally officials thought we had finished for the day (That was true for people doing only the smaller and cheaper part of the rally), but I had paid and I was GOING to do the full rally. I win the point. Helen cursed me as she was quite thrilled with the thought of a rally finish right then and there. If I had decided to call it quits there, I would have been deemed a non-finisher. After what we had been through, esp. the fire, I was unprepared to NOT finish. On we, go, one detirmined driver and one resigned, tired and frustrated wife to face the last challenge of the day. In all the confusion and arguments, we left the service point early -
Stage 11 (Mortons Ridge 2, 11:24 kms) - and arrived twenty minutes early. Now, the officials at this point were puzzled to see such a late running car (the last, full rally competitor went through 1 hour ago), but being nice people, called the director of the rally and request permission to get us underway 15 minutes before we were due to begin the stage. The director, understanding of the situation, agreed. We could now do the last two stages and start early in both without penalty.What a much appreciated gesture to the competitor and officials. Okay, second last countdown, second last trip into the forest.... almost the last time the kangaroo that jumped into the car's path jumped ever. Near miss. I hope the joey that big grey was carrying learned a vital road crossing lesson - look before you leap, or a foaming mouth loony may clean you up. Not deliberatly, believe me, the last thing I like is the idea of hitting 100 kg of prime Skippy at 100 kph. I have seen what happens and results are a mess. Did stage much slower, but enjoyed it no less than first time around. 8:28
Stage 12 (Akuna Ridge 2, 8:62kms) - finally, this wearly driver and navigator face the last stage. The day is ending, the temperature is falling as dusk approaches. Final countdown 5 - 4 - 3 - 2 - 1 - GO!!!, Lots of wheelspin and away we go. Tried out a bit of brake bias testing. Discovered bias was indeed out and proceeded to adjust untip the car was stopping remarkably fast. Every time I hit the brake pedal, the gentle thumpthumpbang of rocks on the underbody became a loud RATRATRATBANGBANDHISS, signalling the tyres kicking up rocks all over the place in a controlled brake slide. Actually, this is exactly what should happen, as proper braking in a rally induces brake lockup that digs through the surface loose gravel into the hard surface underneath. Done properly, you can stop every bit as fast on dirt as on tarmac. Not bad. I'm enjoying myself again, first time since the off..... and then the stage ends. 7:00.
And apart from the hideously long 96 km transport to the end at the Wagga Wagga City Golf Club, which seemed to use just about every residential road, Helen falling asleep on that transport, dusk falling and the countryside becoming dark as we booked into the final control at Parc Firme (I have no idea what that means), we had finished. Finally. A cleaning drink (the traditional beer with the service crew and a few others) to get the dust out of the mouth and the equally traditional finishers drink and the first timers drink.......yeeech. At least it wasn't Tooheys or some cat's piss like that. It's VB for me and a Carlton Cold for Helen, who after the fact we had finished, had a snack to deal with hunger, was now enclosed with other competitors, beer in hand, well at it with the Bull-DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR- Rally Stories. Surprise, all I wanted to do was crawl into a ball and go to sleep - which I eventually did, past midnight back at the caravan park, after an inspection of Matthew Martins car. He had rolled. Ouch.
So, was it worth it? Yes!!! Helen is dead keen to go again, the car came through (apart from the towing hook being bent when the 4wd pulled us off the stump) pretty much intact and we all had a lot of fun, which at my level, is what it's all about. And on the fun scale, I can tell you rallying pretty much tops any other experience you could have. It's noisy, fast, dangerous and an absolute adenaline rush.
Surprisingly, the "do it right" mentality that started so long ago even remains now. I can only hope it stays, but thankfully with the good wife now bitten by the rally bug, it will stay that way. The signs for the next rally in February 98 are looking good, so here to exploding pets and I'll see you in a forest somewhere. I hope you enjoyed this story and maybe if I feel motivated I'll write again. Feel free to pass you stories about rallying onto me, and I will post them in the story section of this web-site.
Before I sign off here, some statistics you may find interesting.....
Total Special Stage distance : 153.87km
Total Liason : 267.88km
Total running distance : 421.75km
Total running time (for me) : 9 hours and 52 minutes
Total special stage time : 3 hours, 1 minute and 54 seconds (including 50 minutes lost due to falling off road, plus a few other mishaps
Winners time : 1 hour, 41 minutes and 33 seconds
Total fuel used : 160 litres
I finished 19th (last finisher) out of 29 staters. There were 53 starters total for both shrot and long events. 28 finished the short event (This does include the 19 who finished the full event)
Average competitve speed for the event, including time spent off the road was 50.75 kph. Average speed adjusted without various mishaps would have been in the order of 75+ kph
2 hot dogs, lots of chips and choclate and 6 litres of fluid consumed by the crew.
This was my 21st rally, of which I have been declared a finisher 12 times. 2 times I have not started, I have DNF'ed due to accident 3 times (once only as a driver), once due to navigator illness, once to Police intervention (see Hitching 1) and three times due to mechanical failure. Of these 21 rallies, I have navigated 5 times, finishing once. So, driving I have had 16 rallies, 11 finishes, 3 DNF's and 2 DNS.
Fastest speed I have ever achived was in 1995 on Warks road 180kph.
Marcus Q. Dunn
P.S. The kitten never could figure out where the IRA kitty litter box came from...... :)
P.P.S The title of this stroy is from a Greenday song called "Hitching a Ride". Sounds like the Muppet band on speed.....
Enjoy :)
Hitching a ride
Rallying the Easy way
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Lets just start this story, (which, by the way was not a lost writing of Banjo Patterson, so don't go expecting quality typing in this badly used disk space imitation of a thumbnail dipped in tar) by saying that if you want to go rallying the easy way, go to an anti One Nation protest rally, for the art of motor vehicle rallying is equivalent to bashing one's head against a concrete floor for fun. It's frustrating, it can hurt, it appears not to have any point and it feels so good when you stop.
Have we got any illusion out of your head that rallying is easy? Yes? Good. You may read on.
Note : Anyone who has never read anything I have typed before may find references to previous events confusing. Personally, I don't care. Explaining and converting previous scratchings to web-space would take up more server space than IS-1 has in total.
It seems like a lifetime ago that The Alliance went forth into a forest, getting any piece of scrap that could be vaguely called a motorized conveyance and hoping that fate would turn the blind eye and we would come out of the forest with the car in no more than double digit pieces. Events have surely changed all that. Decent cars, different attitudes, a wife for one, a child for another, new members plus a spelling mistake have turned the once infamous UnHoly Alliance into Aliance MotorSport.
Now, where is all this dribble leading to? Well, how to rally, doing the job properly our way. Now, is there actually a tried and true method for preparing a car for it's time dancing between trees? I think so. For starters, get a good base to work from. If you start from something bad, it will never get any better, unless of course you are Matthew Martin. That doesn't prove anything except you can work miracles using bog, a spray can, coat-hanger and a huge overdraft on your Mastercard. I would not recommend doing things that way, it is as difficult for the average human to do this as it is for a budgie to explode into flames unassisted. Trust me, I know :).
So, with this background, where do I start? Well, how about from the fact this story could begin with a barstard dressed as a Police Officer. No, this is not a harsh description as no person who has been booked by this <expletive> would have any polite words for this poofter power-tripper. He has always deliberately been after rally cars and all I can say is that I'm glad he's no longer in Buladelah. I got done for a so-called dangerous roll cage and illegal seat belts, then defected in such a way I could not compete at a rally I was entered in that day, this event being in April 96. Was I happy? No. When after getting home I discovered the tailshaft bolts were loose and I probably would have lost the shaft in the rally.Was I now happy? No. But my displeasure had been abated somewhat.
Time passed.
The car was left under cover for nearly a year, with no money and no real time to fix it. I'm off doing other things (like getting ready for a wedding ) and The UnHoly Alliance appeared to be no more. Adrian was out with his lady with child, Peter had no money (but a brilliant car), I'm getting myself out of trouble and into Christianity and Keith was left by himself. Gone. No more. That was a sad time as we had some real fun in the Alliance days.
Time passed
And onto May 97 and what could be called a new beginning. Peter, myself and Adrian form the basis of Alliance, a company designed to further our motor sport. It's about the first thing we have done sensibly as a group, ever. To our surprise, when we go the register the business name, just about every Alliance name combination was already taken. One quick spelling mistake corrected that and Aliance MotorSport was born. Then came Aliance M-S Technology, our computer technology company. Okay, this is a bit boring and tedious, but I just want you to get a bit of background information (and it's a bit of a shameless plug too). So, we now had three guys, usually without a clue and one perennially finished RX-2, another RX-2 needing a lot of work, no money, no hope of seeing another rally and plenty of commitments we never had before. What did we do? Like any logical mechanic, we threw a spanner at my RX-2 to see what happened. It bounced back and hit us.
After wiping off the blood from the driveway, we took this as the car daring us to get it working and road registered again. Not for us the easy path of Rally Registration which for me would still leave a car I basically could not use, except in competition and it's even more expensive to boot. Hence, the decision to do the job properly.
Hang on, did I hear this right? Us, do things the long and proper way, no shortcuts or half measures? This was a bit odd! After all, this is the same people who built a Mini on borrowed parts and painted a rallycar Mission Brown with a paintbrush, to name but a tiny portion of our misdeeds. I wondered how long our new found "do it right" resolve would last. Betting started at three weeks.
Be that as it may, the first thing to do when building a car is to set a target for its debut. This was set August 23, a rally in the Shoalhaven district. That's good. Next, examine finance. Hmmm, in our case the 0's in the account were at the wrong end of the account - at the beginning. This was not so good. Then examine what has to be done to the car. This was very not so good. In my case, the last thing to do in this process is to tell all this to the wife. This was very baaaaaad. Helen just did not want to know about it. Little did she know what was to be in store for her in a few months time - or then again, maybe she did, evident by the way she was acting (i.e. - trying to avoid anything to do with the car). Don't ask me, I have really no idea.
Out comes the toolbox. Out comes the spares. Out comes the suspension. Out comes the spray paint. Out comes.... Hey, what's this?? The front suspension bushes were so destroyed, it actually looked like a piece of charcoal. Okay, I'm confused, this car has never caught fire (yet...) and we have a clear case of fire damage, which also explained the strange handling. After some thought, we conclude that someone DROVE this thing fast enough over a rough surface, for the friction in the suspension parts to get the rubber bushes up to ignition temperature. Considering that this car was built by a Minister of Religion for the 1974 Southern Cross (He must have got a blessing on the car. I can't figure out how a rallycar could have survived this long otherwise), been through several owners, won several club and state championships, held lap records at Catalina and elsewhere, it is indeed possible that somebody drove the car hard enough to set the suspension bushes on fire. But considering I have never heard of this before in fast rallycars, it really staggers me just how fast the car was traveling to me this happen.......
Just a wee bit faster than I'm capable of driving.
With a nice new set of yellow Nolathane bushes pressed into service, plus a spare road going differential assembly (for the fitting of a cable handbrake, this was impossible on the race rear end) and a front end overhaul, the handling is transformed. Transformed to what I have no idea, as driving around the block once or twice fast with most of the major panels missing, the seats loose and no belts is not a good way to endear yourself to the long-suffering neighbors. At least this time there was no custom built spray booth, no loud music till 3am, no causing chemical spills that create a major NBC alert for the nearest four kilometers, no loud bangs of Vogon Engineer modifications and finally, no exploding balls of flame and budgie cage pieces breaking windows. Not even the quiet and serene scream of a chainsaw wielding bird chasing the latest cat who didn't realise what the cat exclusion zone sign meant (Unfortunately, that bird departed this existence and joined the Budgie chainsaw gang, chasing celestial cats for the rest of eternity. No more exploding IRA alarm clocks, or sneak attacks with blenders. Like will be a bit less interesting...). All there was two or three people, working respectable hours (read - when no-one else was there) and still doing things right, fours weeks back into the project. Well, we may still be somehow doing things right, but enthusiasm was waning, along with the non-existent bank balance. Winter is also not a good time to work on the car out in the open.
August 97 - So we missed the original target. The seats were proving a nightmare, due to butchered seat mounts, the steering column was still loose, there were no fuel lines, the fuel pumps were proving a challenge to fit in the boot and the exhaust had huge holes in it. At least the boot had been repaired and repainted, as had the interior, even though the window tinting needed to be removed. The battery was now resident in a nice new battery box in the boot and the roll cage pieces not needed for six-point road registration removed. Some of the many stickers had gone courtesy of a hairdryer, sticker scraper, a red rose, two pints of window cleaner, a four-inch grinder (I had no idea humans came that small) and a bottle of mild battery acid, better known as that wonderful gut corrosive Coke. And for once, that's what I really used. The red rose takes some explaining (well, it was an accident...) but Coke has some incredible solvent capability which was used to good effect. And I actually drink the stuff?!?!?
- As a quick aside, the fuel tank gave us another thing for though. It mounts between the rear strut towers, was a mongrel to get out and had two bloody huge dents in it on either side. Sort of the same that could have happened if the strut towers had crushed into it in say a huge rollover. More indication on how hard this car had been driven in the past? -
The target was now September, the bank balance still had too many zero's in it on the wrong side of the decimal point, the list of things to do was shorter (but not by much) and Helen was starting make noises of interest. Mainly because she was told she would be navigating in the first event back.
September saw the seats somehow remounted and the harness mounts widened to accept eyehooks, the fuel lines fitted in one very professional job (this was inserted so Peter, who did most of the real tricky work could get an ego boost), interior repainted repaired after it had been basically stuffed by too much exposure to welders and angle grinders, Front guards and doors repainted after I had stumbled on a matching paint, handbrake cable refitted, a crack in some sheet metal fixed and for the first time in nearly two years, the car was washed. The result was frightening. There was a very presentable RX-2 under all that dirt and grease.
Of course we missed another target, so the final target was set. We had to make a rally at Hampton, 26th October and as a fall back, the Wagga Wagga State rally championship round on 8th November. With the bank balance still zeros and the list of thing to do smaller again but still formidable, it was not an easy task. However, Helen had resigned herself to the silly seat, so at least one thing was sort of in my favor - I think I can get everything now done in time.
October, especially at the beginning of the month is the traditional time of working on cars whilst people raced cars around some place called Mt Panorama. Considering there was still an incomplete rally car, spending time watching Bathurst I suppose would not make sense. But why start making sense now. The whole Aliance was supposed to go to both Bathurst events, but we had to make do with October 19, and the V8's. Pity, as it would have been nice to have the entire mountain for ourselves on raceday. So, after watching a sort of interesting 2L telecast (and the -DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR- that described a Peugeot 406 as having a rear differential should have been shot - unfortunately that was the standard of commentary all day. Okay race, telecast sucked) I'm off working on the RX-2, taking the exhaust off to effect repairs and the bloody car bites me. Ever had your hand slammed in between FBH's (F***ing Big Hammers)? No? Then the same effect can be had by sticking one's hand between two crashing semi's or having the ring spanner you are using slip whilst undoing exhaust bolts and your hand cannon into the inlet manifold with all the force of a crashing F-18. Ow.
So, after swearing and wondering if that hurt Cameron - Don't ask me where that came from, ask Matthew Martin - email address supplied at the bottom of the page - the exhaust comes off. Well, lets be precise.... fell off in lots of pieces. So much for a so called professional job by a so called professional exhaust maker. It was one of the worst jobs I have ever seen and no wonder I had some unexplained exhaust noises and problems ever since I got ripped off for it. I have no money for a new one, so I get convinced that it could be repaired. So, off to Dean at Mazpower Racing and he TIG'ed the pieces together and filled the many holes. Well, well, well.... looked good. But it was almost impossible to get back on, even with the great hat strength of our mate Adam. A bit of fiddling, axle grease, kitten polish, a block and tackle, two kilos of dynamite and a gentle tap with a 10 kilo FBH that sounded like a bomb going off (funny, there's no budgie here anymore...... ) and the exhaust is persuaded that it would be in it's best interest to resume it's correct place on the car. Start the car up.... niiiiccceeeeee. Drive the car..... niiiiiicccceeeeee. Realise the seat mounts are not working as intended. Baaaaaaaaaaddddddddd.
Mid October sees us off to the real Bathurst and if Nathan Wong or other one eyed 2L supporter ever reads this, V8's will always be the real Bathurst. 2L just dont look and sound right. By themselves 2L are okay, but put up to the V8's they suck. My e-mail address for your flames in reply will be supplied below ;-)
But should we not be working on the rallycar? Maybe, but we have got the list down to only a handful of items, the bank balance finally had a balance other than a negative, the target of 26th October looked achievable (I had even got an entry form for both Oberon and Wagga - wishful thinking?) and Helen was committed. I would be allowed to have her released from the loony asylum for either rally, which frankly is the best place for a decent navigator. One can hardly select a navigator on the basis of personal habits., because navigators are Strange Folk, like hobbits or nuclear physicists or brain surgeons. Just because he / she like picking one's nose and rolling little balls that he / she drolls and flicks out the window by you, torture little kittens, exchange e-mail with Charles Manson on a first name basis, respect Aldof Hitler as a great human being, has a big call for Herbie down the side of the car every time you get airborne and can understand the law relating to Internet censorship, don't mean that you should take umbrage and leave him/her standing by the side of the Snowy Mountains Highway nude at 3am on a brisk July morning (or book them on a skiing holiday in Thredbo). You just have to grin and bear it, on the basis that if anyone is stupid enough to sit besides you and read maps and do mathematical calculations that would leave Einstein confused (while you are indulging in your long- held conviction that the only difference between you and Colin McRae is luck and a huge bank balance), then he/she must be a genius / eccentric a loony and if any, be tolerated with a faint smile and the occasional pat on the head.
So, here we are up at Bathurst, watching the great V8's and that awesome Dodge Viper, driven by none other than His royal appliance, the great rally driver and triple Australian rally champ Neal Bates. Here, we join the members of SLOSH (Society for Long Orgies and Short Holidays) up on the Mountain. Funny, the animals look well behaved..... unexpected this.
In fact, the whole weekend was quiet, even with Adrian's young child Riley there. Could have something to do with the fact we were in a private paddock with no crowds, a house to stay in, a fridge, lots of food and none of the 50,000+ crowd near us. Ahhh, my idea of roughing it.
So, back to Sydney and the rallycar. So confident was we, I got an entry form for Wagga. We could have made Oberon, but the car would be untried and who knows what what would fall off. Anyway, the great Chicken deity, Keith Ross was to be rallying at this event, in his newly acquired Gemini, fully paid by sponsor Australian Canopies and navigated by Adrian, serviced by Peter, Helen, Kirsty and Me. The Aliance returns to the forest! See separate story (maybe...).
October 20 - I buy my wife a kitten named Razor. I hate cats. She loves cats. Maybe its a guilt trip on getting her in on this rallying thing.
Anyway, getting back to the point (which I have never been even close to, so why bother?) the car is now booked for an engineer inspection. Which we make in a burst of last minute activity and the seat mounts, which were finished just as we left home, needed a bit more metal, sun visors needed replacing and the car cleaned. Simple mods and the car passed the hardest part of the rego process with flying colours on October 24 - but Wagga was looming.......
October 29 and the car gets blue slipped. I needed to replace one tire, replace blinker can and get a weightbrigde ticket. Enter Wagga rally, despite the fact I have not registered the car - but then again, how could I not now? The things to do were easy. I even had just banked to dollars to do it. (Believe me, up to this point I had everyone on tenderhooks - will he enter? wont he enter? Even I had not decided up to this point). Get pulled over by a policeman while getting weightbridge ticket. Wasn't he disappointed I was legally driving an unregistered car and he could not fine me! Hah Hah! Pass Blueslip examination. Buy Green slip from Shannon's Insurance (My car is deemed a "classic" and hence can get cut price insurance from them - don't know on whose idea of classic it is, however!)
Friday, 31st October. With Insurance slip, Blue Slip, the wrong copy of the engineers report (which we corrected), company business name registration, pink carnation and required dollars, Peter and I went to the RTA in the final (and for me, by far the easiest step) in getting the car registered. Easy in the end? No, not by a long shot. And unlike the rest of this type-written excuse for a story this next part is 100% true.
We get to RTA and line up half an hour, only to find out the paperwork foul-up and I'm still convinced that it was the RTA who did not know the rules. So off we go and fix that and line up for another half hour. The RTA dude confirmed the paperwork was now okay and then proceeds to a) do an id check on me that takes ten minutes and umpteen bits of paper printed then b) a history check on the car, including REVS check and a check on the stolen vehicle register. The car comes up as stolen. Which, considering I know the history of the car for the last six years is impossible. And I was the last registered owner of the thing. I insist they have made a mistake. Not according to them, the engine is definantly off a stolen car, registered as the plates I handed in from this car 18 months ago. Okay, this is bull-DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR- and I tell them so. Fix it as IT IS NOT STOLEN. Okay sez the RTA dude, I'll find out what happened. So now we wait for twenty minutes and now way past RTA closing time. And finally the answer. My engine number was linked, with my former plates UDB 864 to a stolen trailer with plates UDB864. A stolen motorised trailer. This had to be a joke. No, there it was, a NSW registered trailer, UDB864 with a rotary motor was reported stolen on the day I handed those plates back.
At least it gave us a much needed laugh.
So, that was cleared up and the computer paper trail generated to show the mistake and the corrections.... only another twenty minutes! It seemed like every employee in the RTA had to approve this or that or wanted to view this paper and of course this had to be filed....
But that was all worth it when I bolted the nice, new plates to the car. There, You CAN legally register a rallycar with a full rollcage and racing harness, plus modified brakes, suspension, seats etc in NSW if you do everything right and to the rulebook.
Well, since the decision to do everything properly, it has now been five months and the "do it right" disease is showing no signs of a cure. Surprising really because I have managed to cure that disease easily in the past.
Next was to organise the team. Adrian and his missus Kirsty were going (and trying to get accomodation for us all), plus my wife as navigator, plus the great and most worthy Chicken Deity Keith Ross and a promised 4wd he has dubbed Baby Huey, the logic of that name defies me. Okay Keith, you are quite correct, logic usually defies me. I'ld just thought I'ld say that before you did.However, the rest of Alaince was NOT going! Hatman Adam was off on a beach mission (probably to invade NZ) and Andrew was inconsiderate enough to have a birthday and was partying down and Peter was also going to that party.
Monday, 3rd November was where the countdown really began with a feeble attempt to pack the now race ready Mazda. Well, apart from a non-functional distance measureing device (known as a Terratrip and I can attest to as what a heap of -DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR- they are, I have done too many rallies with a failed terratrip), but that really wasn't worrying me, it was in fact to be expected. Terratrips are overpriced and under-engineered heaps of -DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR-. When you expect water and dust (and what rally does not have both of those in quantity?) to get into the cabin, would you not expect so-called purpose built rallying electronics to be dust sealed and waterproofed? Yes? Well, both of Aliance's terratrips not only permit dust and water into them, as well as a monkey with muscle spasms could do a better job putting them together. I wish I had a Branz distance measureing device (Not for the last time either!).
Now, with time running out, thoughts startup about "what have I missed on the car?". "Oh -DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR-!!!" and off to a quick parts grab at Revolution Racegear and the ertwhile manager Nathan Stephens, another dead-keen rally type. His cash till and my wallet seem to have some sort of syphon device for pocket weight reduction. Not because things are expensive there, but I do always seem to leave with more than I came to buy in the first place. Methinks thats a clear sign that place actually carries things that a racer like me could actually want! (the old "I only wanted a bolt...." syndrome). Ayway Nathan and his gang of paid hooligans are pretty cool to chat to.
Tursday 6th November. Helen's packing night. She's nervous and as jumpy as a kitten on a hot stove (which if the Animal Libbers ask me, I know nothing about ;-)).I'm leaving mid-afternoon for Wagga and she needs to work Keith is giving her a lift friday evening. Adrian and Kirsty will be following the Stolen Trailer in their Datsun.
Friday 7th November. With an ear shattering BANG!!!!! a booby trapped kitty litter tray and small kitten sent into sub orbit wake me too early. Pausing ony by getting hit by the aforementioned feline (who has just achived a re-entry speed close to a space shuttle), I'm off to Revolution Racegear again to get a few more parts (and actually get away with most of my money in pocket). Off I go to Peter's place for a final go making the maligned terratrip work. Beat of a sudden attack by a cash register and return it to Revolution Racegear. Get to Peter's place, pack rally tyres and fail totally to get terratrip working. Leave late. Pause to pick up forgotten paperwork. Off I g...... no back to pick up more forgotten paperwork. Off I go to Hele..... no, back to get another forgotten item. Off I go to Helen's parent plac....... no, back to lock up stowaway kitten. Off I go to Helen's parent's place to drop off house keys.
And finally, after five months I point the nose of the Stolen Trailer towards a rally. Wagga Wagga here we come!
To be continued.......
To Hitching a ride - Part II
Hitching a ride II
Rallying the easy way (not!)
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You may have noticed I have changed the title of this scrap bit-on-a-disk-drive and why not, its my story and I will do what I want, arrogant pig-dog, hah hah!
Well, actually it's because as I explained in the last html enhaced (?) action packed, brilliant(!) episode, there is no such thing as rallying the easy way. It's all blood, sweat and kitten bombings.
HEY!!!! LISTEN TO AN RX-2 BY CLICKING HERE!!!!!!!
(the above will soon be in Real Audio - as soon as I can figure out how!!)
Now, where was I? Ahhh, yes, I'm heading to Wagga Wagga, the day before the Ray White Rally of the Pines in what they claim is God's own rally rally roads, Carabost forests.
80kms out of Sydney there is a serivce staion at Pheasents Nest where I get the bad news Adrian and Kirsty got out of home late (That now being 4:30pm, scrutineering for the rally starts 7:00pm and finishes 11:00pm). I have 360km to go, traffic is not good and I have to empty and get the final bits on the car (like rally tyres) on, as well as find accomodation. Adrian rang damn near everywhere in Wagga and got nothing.... oh dear this is not looking good. All I can do is point the car down the required road and really move.......
8:00pm. Wagga Wagga. Finally made it and I have no idea how, but the first place I go to for a spare caravan has plenty. I guess we instructed Adrian to search in the wrong place? Anyway, enough of that. Unpack the Stolen Trailer and get rally tyres on. finished at 9:30pm. Adrian and Kirsty are at Gundagai now, so I have one hour to get to scrutineering and meet them at the assigned place.
10:00pm, scrutineering. Problems? What with us registering the car only a week ago? No sweat! No hitches and then to the sound test (all rally cars must have a noise limit at a certain RPM. Mine is 5000rpm and 96dba, measured 90 degrees and 1 meter from the end of the exhaust pipe) And it's..... 95.6 dba. That was close. Too close for my liking. In fact this whole experience up to now has been a case of one big close shave. The car was just quiet enough. We only just got here. We only just got accomodation in the last place left. We only got the car registered..... I think I am picking up a pattern here and I dont like this. What else is going to be a close call?
10:30pm, dead on time for once is Adrian and Kirsty. Cool. We have no idea however where Helen and Keith are. They are on the way here, but my mobile phone, which Helen has so we can let them know where we are staying is switched off. -DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR-. At least we have an agreed meeting point but who knows when? We know they left at 6pm and they are driving Baby Huey. I bet 12:30am earliest. Great, just what we need, a late night before an early start. We have to report to rally HQ by 8:00am....
11:30pm. While we are having dinner at a service station diner, I see Baby Huey go past. Whew. In bed by maybe 1am? Better than what I thought....
12am. Ahh, Caravan, sweet caravan. Maybe sleep at last. As the only married couple Helen and me have claimed the double bed. Just becuase the double just happens to be the most comfortable bed too had nothing to do with my choice. Okay, after all the last few weeks effort, I'm going to bed. Helen and Adrian however are staying up to discuss the gentle art of navigation.... it would be a good idea if Helen had some idea what she was supposed to do... and as navigator instructor I make a good turkey plucker. I may be a good nav, but I couldn't explain a thing about the gentle art of guiding a self-deluded maniac who thinks he should be relpacing Colin McRae at Prodrive while dancing the car through a buch of killer trees just waiting to claim another rallycar, juggling time cards, route charts, pens, reset devices and knowing left from right. The left and right bit gets me every time. Funny thing is, when I navigate, I know my left and rights. Any other time, I'm stuffed. It to has dyslexia with my i think to do.....
Wake up call on the mobile, 6:00am, Saturday 8th November, 1997, Rally day. With an enormous BANG!!!!!! the IRA mobile explodes into a zillion flaming pieces, setting fire to the moo-cows in the paddock nextstore. Funny, I thought I heard the chirping of a maniac budgie flying away with an evil tweet. Dusting the the now smouldering pieces of us, we get out of the remains of the 'van, pack the service Huey, put the racing numbers on the car (No. 49 we are, out of 53), fill up cars watched by the owner of the van park, wondering how a perfectly good van could explode for no apparent reason, then off to the the rally HQ to muster with the other crews for the rally start.
7:45am Rally HQ. At Wagga Wagga Beach. At 400 km inland, theres -DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--all surf here. And now to wait and to try and fix this blasted terratrip, wishing I had a Branz instead. Not for the last time either. Helen is still bemused as to what she is to do with navigation bit and for the first time ever, I'm not nervous, but chafing at the bit to get into it. But, being so far back and the car's leaving every two minutes from 8:15, we have to wait until 9:53 until we can leave.
9:53am and finally, after watching everyone else leave, we are strapped in and waved away from the HQ onto the dusty unknown. Helen's nervous but coping. I'm not nervous and I'm not coping with that. Where is the last minute panic? At least the terratrip's clock functions work as nothing on the mongruel piece of electronics is. Oh well, we will cope, it's not like that has not happened before.
Halfway through 72.48 liason (transport) stage to the forest - I have always wondered what women do when there are no toilets. Now I know. Poor Helen has no hope of a bathroom until lunchtime.....
First service point .........but then again she could and does improvise. Day is hot. Water will be critical and I have already drunk a litre. I'm dripping with sweat and we wehre only driving out here, not racing!. Service crew is nowhere in site (only because I didn't see them waving me down) and its time to start racing proper.
Stage 1 (Argyle Junior, 7.94 kms) And after seeing the service crew only after lining up and getting the famous rally start countdown, in a cacpony of wheel spin, rocks flying and engine nise and a seconfd gear crunch, we begin racing. First corner is a tight one, so on comes the handbrake for a "handbrake turn".... nothing!!! Okay, something had to go wrong, so I will accept this. I know Argyle fairly well, so it's long straights and tight corners are not a surprise. Despite no terratrip, Helens calling very well (especially as a first timer) and the car is just bloody brilliant. Ahhh, this was definantly worth it! The car is a bit "taily" coming into corners, but thats actually helping turn the car. Dust, a big worry for me is surprisingly non existant - considering the hot and dry conditions, that's a welcome surprise. Finish control and its 6:28 for us. slow compared to the 4wd mob, but not too bad. I'm happy and do I detect a note of Helen enjoyed the ride? I saw 155kph down one straight, so for the first time I'm in a rallycar that isn't nervous over high-speed or rough roads, not that there have been any real rough stuff yet. Service point is a case of clean windscreen, check exhaust, drink three cups of cordial (it is nearing 50 degrees + in the car ) and off to the next stage. Lose way on transport, but realise mistake and get to control 4 minutes late.
Stage 2 (Miles Block, 6.83km). I have done this stage 3 times before, twice in torrential rain and all in the opposite direction to what we are about to do. In fact, now I think of it, I have never rallied in Wagga before without some rain falling. Considering how bone dry the place is and the fact that the torrential rain times was the ONLY time it had rained in twelve months, I have surprisingly never seen this place dry. It has been worth the wait, as well as section of road that went Cuation Crest, then 70m crest, then 70m Yump. 120kph at the yump and the stomach gets a good workover. I wish I had gone into it harder.... Finish sees 5:40. Second service sees yet more copious quantities of cordial and water and bite to eat. Car, apart from the accursed terratrip is perfect. Unique for me, by now other cars I have rallied would be showing signs of falling to pieces. But then again, I suppose a car running as required is what you get for doing things right.
Stage 3 (Mantons Ridge, 11.24kms) Apart from a problem finding the stage, onward we go again Now I asked before why others have caled this god's own rally country. Now I know. Manton's Ridge is a stage I have never done before and it MUST be the best bit of rally road in existance. Wide, smooth, lighting fast, corners that flow into one another, first time I have taken corners so fast, ever. Rarely got below 110 kph. Staggering. Helen states she's has not been scared yet. I pick up speed. She says she has just changed her mind. The other stages have been great, but this is something else again. Finish control and I almost turned around to do it again. 7:47.
Stage 4 (Akuna Ridge, 8.64 kms) Top stage with an absolute car killing dip taken at 20kph. Also a great stage, but in comparision to Manton's ridge, almost boring. But I did catch and overtake someone for the first time (talk about an ego trip!), which bit into the time we achived. 7:05, probably lost 30seconds overtaking the other vehicle. Akuna ridge for some reason seems to be 10 degrees hotter than anywhere else, car temperatures really soared as a result and I want a drink badly. The day is also giving my physical fitness a workover, not that I was fit to start with. Thank goodness for the first meal break at Humula coming up.
Meal break 1 - Toilets!!!!! Helen runs for it like a.... well desperate person for a toilet. Food!!! Hot Dogs!!! How can I say that in the same breath!!!
After a few litres of drink its up with the feet and relax, after examining the rolled Datsun 1200 and another RX-2 with bad over-heating problems. Car is checked and found still to be a car. Nothing is falling off and its looking like nothing will. Not even the exhaust, much to my relief. And I find a few fellow competitors and start up a "Bull-DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR- Rally Story" session while we are waiting for our times to depart. "The car did this..." "Hit a 'roo" "Did a pike and roll", "Wasn't that road brilliant?", "You broke waht?", "I hate cats" "Whay about..." and so on. Actually, a Bull-DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR- Rally story, by definition is NOT bull-DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR-. What it is, is a group of rally competitors, telling their tales of the day. They are called bull-DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR- because a) no sane person would get up to this in the first place and b) a non rally intruder would be liable, when hearing about the latest near miss, exclaim "BULL-DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR-!!!". The reaction of the accused rally competitor will be to belt the unbeliever over the head with a large hammer. Is this a bull-DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR- rally story? Mostly, yes. The rest of it is bull-DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR-. Oddly, Bull-DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR- rally stories are almost always told by blokes, so its odd to hear Helen talking to fellow navigators and other drivers.... wait up....no, I dont believe it.... she's TELLING BULL-DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR- RALLY STORIES!!!! Damn, I KNEW I had married the right woman! Navigator and story teller all rolled into one. No, bugger off, she MINE you hear? All MINE!!!! HAH HAH!
And then after a too short break, off Helen and I go into the wilderness... after a few moments we realise the car has not come with us so we go back and collect it. And off we go again!
Stage 5 (Wyuna, 11.49 kms) - And its a BIG difference from the fast and open stages we have already had. This one is narrow, winding and its noticably rougher than the first sections. It's rain affected and traditionally would present a problem to the car's I have rallied before. Not this one. The suspension work I did has really paid off, as we don't back off for any of the rough stuff. The only real straight, a 1.2 km rut filled narrow road called Mundaroo Trig, saw us doing 155kph, sideways and airborne. To me, this will be THE memory I cherish most. It was bloody exciting stuff. Time taken 9:24. Not too bad.
Stage 6 (Rosewood Trig, 14.42km) - This was tighter again, very hilly as well and not as enjoyable as the previous stages. However, still a challenge to drive, a challenge I lost. For the second time at Wagga, I went off the road and got stuck. Somewhere about 6 or 7 kms into the stage, I went too wide at the entry of a really what was a simple right hooker, should have been quick dab on the brakes, swing the car right and away I go. Nope. Went wide, locked the brakes and slid off. This was bad. Hit something with sumpguard hard whcih stopped me. That was very bad. Put car into reverse and car was stuck This was very bad. Stop, unto harness, open door to inspect situation and noticed smoke. Me thinks smoke? Should that not be dust? Oh oh. This could be extremely bad. Get out of car and look under car. Wished I didn't The exhaust, which often works at 600 degrees centigrade has set the scrub and dead leaves the car ploughed into on fire. Okay, no panic, I have two fire extingushers. Helen notices me go for one extingusher. Break seal on extingusher, aim at fire and pull trigger. Not a problem, situation under control.
Like -DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR- it was. The fire extingusher failed to work I decided this would be a very good time to panic.
Screaming at Helen to get the other extingusher, I used the only option I had at the time - I beat the fire out with my hands. This hurt. Helen got other extingusher and thank you God, it worked. Not well, in fact quite badly, but it was enough.
Okay, so after the panic was over, now was the time to coldly assess the situation. Hmm, back wheels on the road, not bad, but the gearbox is resting on a stump that was obsured by the natural road drop off. The front wheels are off the deck by a foot. Hmm. Okay, we are not going anywhere in a hurry, so lets try a few things. You never know...
30 minutes later - I tried putting wood under the rear tyres to give them traction, jcaking the car up and driving it off the jack, putting wood under the front wheels until the sump guard cleared the stump and I had it within 1 cm of getting the car off the stump, The sump guard, that wonderful device that protected the sump and radiators from being destroyed, was now catching on the stump, stopoing the car from being put back on the road. Frustrating. The wood was too old and just distintergrated when the car's weight was put on it (otherwise would have worked), the jack was not strong enough (otherwise that would have worked) and the sweep car with its two occupants was not quite enough either. Along comes the recovery vehicle, with it's load of DNF'ed crews. The driver is informed that we can be put back on the road quite easily. He gets a chain out, hitches it to the tow hook and BANG slide, back on the road. Easy in the end. The now useless extingushers, jack and warning triangles are thrown back in the car by the willing helpers and away Helen and I, much dirtier, sweatier and in my case, burnt and cut. My hands are blistered and bleeding, the damage has been increased by dirt and wood infections into the wounds and in fairly urgent need of first-aid. Steering the car was a real trial now.
And finally, the stage was finished...... 1:01:14. Surprised we got here at all. We must be out of late time now. (Late time being how many minutes behind your personal schedule as worked out by the control officials you are, if you are)
Going to next service, I'm doing mental sums..... okay we lost four minutes late time earlier, we have 10 minutes service time and we were due to book in at this time.... we are now 35 minutes after that time and have 4 km to the next control... we have 45 minutes late time to use in total.... Bloody Hell! We are still offically in the rally - I dont believe it! Stopping only to tell the faithful service crew (who were informed of out plight and were waiting in the vain hope we could get out under our own power) to get to the next service point with lots of water and first-aid as a priority, we are off to the next stage.... and book in with 2 minutes late time left. That was close. But more to the point, we can still go on.
Stage 7 (Central, 17.21km) - I dont remember anything about this one, except I was driving dead cautious as any mistake now would be the end of the rally and my hands were in a lot of pain. Oh, and Matthew Martin was viewed on the side of the road, waving me on... and the infamous Datsun Insult parked well off the road and it looked bent. 19:46
Service point never looked so good. As I drank litres of juice (as did Helen), Adrian and Keith looked the car over and Kirsty got the rather incredible hospital Adrian called a first-aid box to look at my hands. The car was fine, I wasn't. Okay, the saline clean for all the crap in the wounds.... that hurt. Dettol next for disinfection.... that really hurt...... and then the iodine. Okay, I admit it, I wandered off and screamed in pain because THAT REALLY F****** HURT. Then it's all bandaged up and my racing gloves put over the top. A few minutes to recover, then off to the next stage, hands now in somewhat better condition.
Stage 8 (Vyners Creek, 29.27 Kms) - Long. Very long. Straights were unbelievable. Pity I was in no mistake mode, as the 2 km + rollercoaster straight would have been incredible. As it was, it was fun at 110 kph. Noted that this was the first time that when a double (ie slow down and be concerned) caution was called, I went from third to fourth. This newly resigned suspension system was really proving its worth now. 25:48, Could have gone a mile faster, but for the fact I'm in finish at all cost mode.
And to the 20 minute service. Lots of water, another checkover of the car, another hand fixup. And a sitdown rest. Ahh, that feels good.
Stage 9 (Bulalgee Hill, 16.30 km) - Roughest stage, I think. Certainly the hardest to find without a tripmeter, followed all sorts of narrow tracks and paths to find. Very relieved to find start control. Pot holes were of interesting size... I think The car just did not notice them. I do remember thinking I wished I had a working handbrake as I slid through a hairpin corner..... some interesting drop-offs - you know the ones, if you fell off them, your clothes would be out of fashion before you hit the bottom. However, considering what I wear, that height would be measured in negatives, so dont use me as a guide.13:56.
Stage 10 (Triffitts, 10.69km) - Done in the reverse direction for the first time have ever done it and not as much fun as last year. Dont know wether that was the heat, the lateness of the hour, the sun shining in my face as I crested hills, or just sheer "will this rally PLEASE end!". It has been a long day. Spectactor point, but no spectactors. 9:25
Final service point. Two stages that we have already graced left to do. The rally officials thought we had finished for the day (That was true for people doing only the smaller and cheaper part of the rally), but I had paid and I was GOING to do the full rally. I win the point. Helen cursed me as she was quite thrilled with the thought of a rally finish right then and there. If I had decided to call it quits there, I would have been deemed a non-finisher. After what we had been through, esp. the fire, I was unprepared to NOT finish. On we, go, one detirmined driver and one resigned, tired and frustrated wife to face the last challenge of the day. In all the confusion and arguments, we left the service point early -
Stage 11 (Mortons Ridge 2, 11:24 kms) - and arrived twenty minutes early. Now, the officials at this point were puzzled to see such a late running car (the last, full rally competitor went through 1 hour ago), but being nice people, called the director of the rally and request permission to get us underway 15 minutes before we were due to begin the stage. The director, understanding of the situation, agreed. We could now do the last two stages and start early in both without penalty.What a much appreciated gesture to the competitor and officials. Okay, second last countdown, second last trip into the forest.... almost the last time the kangaroo that jumped into the car's path jumped ever. Near miss. I hope the joey that big grey was carrying learned a vital road crossing lesson - look before you leap, or a foaming mouth loony may clean you up. Not deliberatly, believe me, the last thing I like is the idea of hitting 100 kg of prime Skippy at 100 kph. I have seen what happens and results are a mess. Did stage much slower, but enjoyed it no less than first time around. 8:28
Stage 12 (Akuna Ridge 2, 8:62kms) - finally, this wearly driver and navigator face the last stage. The day is ending, the temperature is falling as dusk approaches. Final countdown 5 - 4 - 3 - 2 - 1 - GO!!!, Lots of wheelspin and away we go. Tried out a bit of brake bias testing. Discovered bias was indeed out and proceeded to adjust untip the car was stopping remarkably fast. Every time I hit the brake pedal, the gentle thumpthumpbang of rocks on the underbody became a loud RATRATRATBANGBANDHISS, signalling the tyres kicking up rocks all over the place in a controlled brake slide. Actually, this is exactly what should happen, as proper braking in a rally induces brake lockup that digs through the surface loose gravel into the hard surface underneath. Done properly, you can stop every bit as fast on dirt as on tarmac. Not bad. I'm enjoying myself again, first time since the off..... and then the stage ends. 7:00.
And apart from the hideously long 96 km transport to the end at the Wagga Wagga City Golf Club, which seemed to use just about every residential road, Helen falling asleep on that transport, dusk falling and the countryside becoming dark as we booked into the final control at Parc Firme (I have no idea what that means), we had finished. Finally. A cleaning drink (the traditional beer with the service crew and a few others) to get the dust out of the mouth and the equally traditional finishers drink and the first timers drink.......yeeech. At least it wasn't Tooheys or some cat's piss like that. It's VB for me and a Carlton Cold for Helen, who after the fact we had finished, had a snack to deal with hunger, was now enclosed with other competitors, beer in hand, well at it with the Bull-DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR--DO-NOT-SWEAR- Rally Stories. Surprise, all I wanted to do was crawl into a ball and go to sleep - which I eventually did, past midnight back at the caravan park, after an inspection of Matthew Martins car. He had rolled. Ouch.
So, was it worth it? Yes!!! Helen is dead keen to go again, the car came through (apart from the towing hook being bent when the 4wd pulled us off the stump) pretty much intact and we all had a lot of fun, which at my level, is what it's all about. And on the fun scale, I can tell you rallying pretty much tops any other experience you could have. It's noisy, fast, dangerous and an absolute adenaline rush.
Surprisingly, the "do it right" mentality that started so long ago even remains now. I can only hope it stays, but thankfully with the good wife now bitten by the rally bug, it will stay that way. The signs for the next rally in February 98 are looking good, so here to exploding pets and I'll see you in a forest somewhere. I hope you enjoyed this story and maybe if I feel motivated I'll write again. Feel free to pass you stories about rallying onto me, and I will post them in the story section of this web-site.
Before I sign off here, some statistics you may find interesting.....
Total Special Stage distance : 153.87km
Total Liason : 267.88km
Total running distance : 421.75km
Total running time (for me) : 9 hours and 52 minutes
Total special stage time : 3 hours, 1 minute and 54 seconds (including 50 minutes lost due to falling off road, plus a few other mishaps
Winners time : 1 hour, 41 minutes and 33 seconds
Total fuel used : 160 litres
I finished 19th (last finisher) out of 29 staters. There were 53 starters total for both shrot and long events. 28 finished the short event (This does include the 19 who finished the full event)
Average competitve speed for the event, including time spent off the road was 50.75 kph. Average speed adjusted without various mishaps would have been in the order of 75+ kph
2 hot dogs, lots of chips and choclate and 6 litres of fluid consumed by the crew.
This was my 21st rally, of which I have been declared a finisher 12 times. 2 times I have not started, I have DNF'ed due to accident 3 times (once only as a driver), once due to navigator illness, once to Police intervention (see Hitching 1) and three times due to mechanical failure. Of these 21 rallies, I have navigated 5 times, finishing once. So, driving I have had 16 rallies, 11 finishes, 3 DNF's and 2 DNS.
Fastest speed I have ever achived was in 1995 on Warks road 180kph.
Marcus Q. Dunn
P.S. The kitten never could figure out where the IRA kitty litter box came from...... :)
P.P.S The title of this stroy is from a Greenday song called "Hitching a Ride". Sounds like the Muppet band on speed.....