Hopefully you’ve had a chance to read Grant’s article about the Legend of the Lake hill climb at Mount Gambier detailing the preparation and the thought processes of competing a 200hp Mk1 Escort (200hp – in an Escort…??!) up a temporary hill climb circuit so I thought I’d offer you a perspective from the other end – under prepared, under done and a complete novice! Remember those days? I do, like it was yesterday – oh, that’s right, it almost was!

Its fair to say I’m a nervous passenger at best. Doesn’t matter if its sitting in the passenger seat of my car whilst my beautiful partner is driving (and its fair to say she drives better than me), sitting in the back of an Air Force PC9 whilst one of the Roulettes was turning my stomach inside out or just sitting on the train, I just like to be in control of my own destiny, even if I know I can’t do it any better.

Which pretty much sums up my weekend at the 2022 Adelaide Rally. No control over my destiny! And that was before the front left-hand tried to escape the rest of the car (it didn’t like us and protested its displeasure in various ways all weekend) … don’t start me on trusting other people’s mechanical abilities! The only person who can do a job right is me (maybe I have control issues…)!

So, what on earth am I writing about? Well, an old Navy mate, whom I hadn’t seen for over 20 years, and I ran into each other on a job a few years ago and, like anyone ex-military person will know, you just pick up the conversation pretty much where it left off all those years ago. Then, out of the blue came an invite to be the navigator in the Rally Adelaide in a car he’d just bought. Trust me – its’ going to be fun! Now, John likes his toys. He used to race a Ducatti in one of the feeder production superbike classes until two accidents, the second very serious (for him and the bike) left him unable to race on two wheels. This lead him down an all too familiar path – pick up a track day car which leads to another – sound familiar at all? Anyway, his current track weapon (a highly modified current spec Nissan GTR) was a bit excessive for events like Rally Adelaide, so, he set out to buy a good tarmac rally prepared Porsche 944 to have some fun in and somehow ended up with this crazy track special Maserati Grand Sport. Gutted of all semblances of luxury, two racing seats bolted to the floor, a Ferrari derived 4.2l V8 complete with race spec engine management, an exhaust system that will wake the recently departed and a custom-built race suspension. Sounds crazy right? Nearly 500 brake horsepower all going through a standard Selespeed gearbox that smelled like it was constantly 30 seconds away from melting due to the crawling along at each starting special stage line up. Now you might start to understand my nervousness!

Day One was interesting for both of us in many ways. I’d never sat in the car for any more than 30 seconds (loose weight Robin, loose some weight) and John causally mentioned he had only really driven the car in earnest once, not including the trips to and from the suspension shop, the tyre fitter and the run to Parc Ferme at the Show Grounds. He did warn me that it was loud, but even after the first day, neither of us yet understood quite how loud a 4.2 litre Ferrari V8 with a full race exhaust system was on the rev limiter. Oh, and don’t kick that box right where you want to put your left foot – that’s one half of the ECU.

The first few stages were interesting to say the least. Officially there was an 80kph or 100 kph speed limit on all the stages as a risk mitigation strategy post the tragic accidents in Tasmania earlier this year, but it became obvious that not everyone was obeying the imposed limits, mostly legitimately by accident on the first day. I have in-car footage of some of the stages that, honestly, I’m too ashamed to show anyone as I was either (a) scared witless as John man-handled what is in reality a very heavy Grand Tourer through the hairpins and winding roads (“for god’s sake mate, slow down or we are going to be thrown out of the event…”) or (b) holding my breakfast down as we descended the Cork Screw like I’ve never done it before … (“nah mate, that was slow – you should come down it in the GTR one day with me”… err, no thanks John, but thanks for the offer!). I don’t think I’ve ever been up to Eagle on the Hill quite as quick until then either (“mate, that was only half throttle – wait until tomorrow…”). So you get the idea. Not exactly the place for a nervous passenger with control issues….!

So, anyway, back to Day One and somewhere around lunch I sensed something wasn’t quite right. Me and vibrations have a kind of symbiotic relationship and as I get to know a car/ship/helicopter, I kind of get in tune with it on a spiritual level and can sense changes before others do. A 10rpm change in the main diesel on my last ship would have me instantly awake wondering why we had sped up/slowed down. The car was grinding every time we had a slow, hard right turn with the body work and the front left rubbing (never thought I’d be taking to a Maserati with an Ozito grinder, but I did – lots of firsts for me last weekend!!), but I had a nagging sense of a vibration in the front. “Its fine mate – its steering fine” says John repeatedly. The thought of jacking it up to check the tyres was quickly quashed, simply because we, err, didn’t have a jack. So, on we pressed. Each stage a little bit faster, a few more revs, later and later on the brakes into corners and harder on the throttle out. As John’s confidence with the car built (and my confidence in his driving increased) I had this nagging feeling that something just was not quite right. Then to the final stage on day one, up Lower North East Road. Those who know this stretch of road know that, with the exception of one double apex left hander, it’s a series of fast flowing corners. Confidence high, John really started pushing it, closer to the rev limiter, and, after being told to shut up about speeding (!), I finally sat back to enjoy the rush (or at least tried to!). Through the finish, hard on the brakes to make the sharp left back onto North East road for the trip back to Gouger St (and beers) all heck broke loose. We had been listening to the grinding of tyre on body work all day, but this was different and the steering wheel was shaking like a leaf in a storm. And, of course, there was nowhere to pull off. When we finally could, without a jack of course we couldn’t see anything wrong either. A very sedate drive down into the city but by the time we got to Gillies Plains it was almost undrivable so, no Gouger St beers for me. I’m told it was a good night!!

I have to admit there was a small prayer offered to the Motor Sport gods to release me from this rolling nightmare with a catastrophic failure of some sort. As it was, the bolts securing the spacers to the hubs had come loose. Two were completely out and the other three were hanging in by about half a thread. “I knew they were a bit short” says John. Needless to say, once ‘Frank’ from RAA had it sorted enough to get home, my first job of the next morning was to take all the wheels off and check the torque on all of the spacer bolts. We might have missed the first stage as a result, but I had a little more confidence in the Italian engineering, and after a check (tear down) at Urailda, all I had to worry about was the noise (oh my goodness it was loud – louder than front row tickets to a Guns and Roses concert) and attempting to keep John under control with the speed.

The Urailda lunch stop was interesting. Intent to checking the wheel spacers for security, I set about finding timbers to stop the trolley jack from sinking into the wet grass and proceeded to remove the fronts. This was of considerable amusement to the assembled masses, many of whom observed my progress from under the shelter of a large gum tree (yes, it was raining) and offered advice, but only one person (other than John) actually came and helped! An interesting window into the minds of some of the participants in the event! Mind you, we also knew each other and I think up until then he thought my stories of being a walking talking vibration sensor where probably somewhat exaggerated.

By this time I’ve just given up. Mentally I’ve rechecked my will, chastised myself for not handing the signed executor form back to the lawyers (Margy will find it I’m sure I think). As John’s confidence in the car grew and the wet roads dried out, the deeper into corners we plunged and the harder the shove in the back on the exit became as the car literally roared down the quiet Adelaide Hills back roads. A short sharp hill climb stage, followed by a crazy (to me) descent down Eagle on the Hill and then a run up Belair Road like I’ve never experienced, ever. I don’t think the Midget will go as fast on a straight downhill road with the wind behind as we went up it. Never, have I ever, been up that road so quickly (I swear it was 80kph Officer…). We thought the rev limiter kicked in at 7500. We were about 500rpm early and when it kicks in it creates a staccato sound akin to an AK47.

My final hope to surviving is we will be removed from the event Sunday morning for repeated speed transgressions on Saturday. The Rally Safe Lite app kept going off (and off and off) and, well, I saw the speeds we hit on the final three stages so I was sure (prayed) we were going to be thrown out. Then we stopped for fuel at the OTR at the top of the Belair Road run (it drinks fuel at a rate not unlike I was drinking Scotch each evening to calm my nerves) and all the other drivers in our packet had manic grins on their faces. The cars in front of us, an Audi RS3, a WRX Station Wagon and a vintage 911 RS had all distanced us on the ascent and the follow car (a Yaris GR4) had been up our quadrophonic tailpipes all the way up the hill with the navigator laughing all the way at the mechanical din we were making – damn. Oh well, I guess we are all out tomorrow (I hoped)….

…Alas – no. Despite my desperate desire to make it stop, armed with a deep understanding of how military grade GPS tracking systems work I was now strangely ready to defend our honour against the Rally Safe app and the GPS capabilities of an iPhone, but it was not needed. There was stern warning about keeping the speed under control and we had a private audience with the Chief Steward for an alleged transgression (a burn out coming out of Uraidla which we vehemently denied – we honestly didn’t but I guess someone complained about the noise of the car – there was a Maserati guy watching us go so maybe we made a little too much noise as we left, but no burn out – the clutch couldn’t have coped for starters!).

As for Day Three itself, its amazing how different the roads are only a few km to the south. Gone where the tight switch backs to fast flowing roads … and the tour speed limits that were, in the most part, well obeyed. Still, if you have massive Brembo brakes and warm semi slick tyres you can plunge deeper into a corner than any sane person would and there was the homicidal roar of that glorious flat plane crank V8 as it provided enough kick to probably launch NASA’s next moon mission as you exited the bend. We might have been warned about driving quietly in the built up areas but not on the road, much to the amusement of the many young boys and girls who lined the roads.

So, what did all this prove? As a navigator I’m completely useless. Most of the time I had no idea where I was or honestly, which way we were going! And clearly I have trust issues but I think at least some of those were justified. It probably also proved that I have addiction issues as I’ve now been browsing the Sprite Parts and PME online shop sites with the thought of putting the Little Blue Car into the event next year. Pretty sure it’s quick enough for the Main Tour (and can be made to go a little quicker through the bends with some minor adjustments…), the question is, can the nut behind the steering wheel be taught how to drive quickly, instead of being a candidate for Miss Daisy’s driver? Stay tuned – oh, and don’t tell Margy what I’m thinking about…she says I’m too impulsive!