Targa Tour - Targa Tasmania

Targa Tour
tour de
Words NATHAN PONCHARD
Photos ELLEN DEWAR & PERFECT PRINTS
Force
the main targa without the
times is still a proper challenge
M
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en have attempted to conquer some pretty big
things in history – Everest, the Rubik’s Cube,
Elizabeth Taylor – but asking a 49-year-old Ford
Galaxie to complete a six-day Tasmanian tarmac
challenge is a fair way up the scale. Bravery?
Naivety? Probably a bit of both.
A full-chassis, pillarless Yank Tank running a Cruise-o-matic
auto, bench seats, lap seatbelts, a non-collapsible steering column,
no crumple zones – the list of reasons why this shouldn’t work,
or probably shouldn’t be contemplated, is slightly massive. And
that’s not taking into account the stuff that doesn’t actually work,
like the radio, the clock, the dash lighting, the cigarette lighter,
the heater, and, calling it quits just days before the event, the fuel
gauge. Crawling through Melbourne gridlock on a Saturday arvo
to board the Spirit of Tasmania mothership, I notice the Galaxie’s
front-right blinker has also stopped working…
We’re feeling pumped though. The Gal’ has been through
weeks of prep and she’s busting for some Targa Tas’ action – in
this instance the Tour, which covers each stage of the main
event an hour or so before the timed, rollcaged, Terratripped
competition cars tear their way through. And that means plenty
of pre-dawn starts.
The boys at Suspension City in North Melbourne went to
town on the Gal’s flabby bits – replacing the sagging original
rear leaves and shagged shackle rubbers with a lovely pair of
five-leaf springs and all-new bushes. Up front, the virtually
coil-bound springs were junked for some King items with loads
more travel – all in conjunction with the adjustable Koni shocks
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Targa Tour
already fitted. Then our mates at Tyre Plus
in Airport West attended to the oily bits,
including the transmission, in preparation
for over 2500km of ‘touring’ in little more
than a week. That’s more mileage than the
Gal’s done in 18 months!
Getting on and off the boat proves a
piece of cake, and the dawn cruise from
Devonport to Launceston through dense
fog highlights the Gal’s wafting qualities, if
not its demisting abilities. With no working
heater, prevention is the only option to keep
the windscreen clear, as my partner-in-crime
– staff snapper and great mate Ellen Dewar
– discovers following in our roustabout Ford
Kuga support car. I’m pottering because I
can barely see, I’ve got no idea how much
fuel is in the tank, and I really, really don’t
want to see the Gal’ going home on a
flat-bed. For the first time, I start to wonder
if any of this was a good idea…
With scrutineering aced (the dead
blinker was just a globe), stickers and plates
attached (thanks to Phil Walker and knightwith-a-toolkit Simon Richards from the
Sims GT-R crew), and outfits sorted (El and
I decide the George Town prologue deserves
threads that match our car), we meet on
Tuesday morning at a very respectable
9am. From the Silverdome it’s a detour past
the Country Club U-drive for Tassie telly,
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followed by a 36km transport stage to a new
Leg Zero warm-up through Lilydale.
Straight out of Launceston, the open-road
limit hits 110km/h, but I stay on about
65mph (105km/h), reminding myself that
easing the car into the event could be vital
to survival. It’s a good open-road test of the
new springs, too, and they’ve transformed
the ride. The Gal’ can now handle any
surface thrown at it – feeling tightly
damped, yet absorbent, without being
too firm. She’s riding level, too, like she’s
Hoovering up the road beneath, swallowing
up distance with disdain.
The view out is postcard-special, courtesy
of Tassie’s rolling beauty and the Galaxie’s
slender pillars, but El reckons there’s an
odour in the air. “It’s probably blood-andbone”, I reply, seeing I know so much about
above Ponch and Sue Lodder tackling
the cracking 33km Rinadeena stage into
Strahan. Ellen’s in the back...
right Appropriate ‘60s garb for El
in George Town, while Ponch goes for a
mid-west Seppo flavour
farming... “Nah, it smells like plastic”.
Two minutes later, our first “holy shit”
moment. There’s fluid spewing from under
the dash, all over El’s camera. The smell is
bloody coolant! All that 65-70mph cruising,
pumping coolant through a buggered heater
core, has resulted in a bright-green water
feature. I rip the car over to the edge and we
jump out, staring at each other in shock.
Luckily, the camera has great seals. Also
lucky is that I have a scungy towel in the
boot and the George Town Prologue is
only 10 kays up the road.
The stage has already started when we
arrive, but the Historic Rallye crew are
still waiting so I slot in behind none other
than Phil Walker in our purple Torana
XU-1 giveaway car. Not wanting to harm
the Gal’, I just let her waft through the
very tight course – using engine torque
out of corners and easing on the brakes,
revelling in being the last car through
before competition starts. She only kicks
down to second twice during the whole
stage – one of those after a well-timed
hard right turn onto Main Road, in front
of the largest street crowd. We then park
on the town oval, pop the bonnet and
bypass the heater – re-routing the coolant
piping into the back of the engine before
pouring more than a litre of water back
into the radiator. Crisis narrowly averted.
Back in Launceston, Andrew at
Radiators Plus pressure-tests the Gal’s
cooling system and it reads a steady 13
pounds – no leaks, no need to worry.
That’s bloody great news because the last
thing I feel like doing for the next five
days is pottering about like Mr Magoo
on Serepax. We then head to a servo
and fill up the tank and an emergency
10-litre plastic jerrycan with 98. The Gal’
is meant to hold 16.5 imperial gallons
(about 75 litres), but I’ve never squeezed
in more than 52. And with the first tank
from Melbourne yielding 22.0L/100km
(or 12.8mpg) and a bung fuel gauge, who
knows what lies ahead…
Day Two is the first of the early starts
– a 6.15am meet for a 6.45 departure.
Eight stages lie ahead, starting with
the 10km Quamby Brook, followed
by a 12.5km Deloraine stage and an
entertaining 10.6km one at Merseylea.
We’re all warmed up now – us and the car
– and even though we’re staring down the
barrel of having lunch before 10 o’clock
(another downside of leaving so early),
we’re having an absolute ball.
I wind the Gal’ out to 75mph along
some of the straights, watching the
magnificent 300SL Roadster of Ray and
Sue Lodder disappear into the distance,
and she’s just so quiet and calm, backed by
an increasingly beautiful burble from the
new exhaust as it gets lined with carbon.
At the Sheffield lunch stop (at
9.45am!), I head to the only servo in
town and gas-up – 35 litres for 127
miles (204km). A few calculations on
El’s iPhone later and the good news is
in – 17.1L/100km, or 16.5mpg, which
is incredibly good for such a big car
performing such a big ask. Then we’re
straight back into it – starting with Nook
and following with the superb 16.7km
Paloona stage.
Grant & Randal
’74 XB Falcon GT
“mum and dad bought [the
car] just before the warranty ran
out. It’s fully optioned [and] we
used to get taken to school in
it. Even back in the ‘70s when
people wore hideous clothes, this
car stood out. The kids would
stop when mum drove up the
drive at school to pick us up.
“When it got too dear to run
[in the ’82 fuel crisis] dad started
buying six-cylinder cars and [the
XB] lay around in sheds around
St Marys for 15 years.”
“A panel beater called Ray
Oliver moved to St Marys to
retire and dad talked him into
doing the paint work. He stripped
it to a bare shell then died of
a heart attack one morning. I
decided to take the job over,
started on it in ’93 and finished it
in 2003.” – GF
below The infamous Sideling at its moist
and foggy best. By then, the Galaxie’s steering
had also gone a bit moist and foggy....
bottom (l-r) Ms Dewar; the Faulkner’s
XB GT; corners galore; spare 10-litre jerrycan;
creative stickering; “watch the badges ladies!”;
Targa Tour road book; furniture guy Mark
Tuckey’s gorgeous Porsche 356
Targa Tour
Bruce & Rosemary
’81 Datsun 280ZX
below Galaxie looks even better dirty!
New springs have lifted the ride height slightly
i notice on the fun, flowing transport stage to st helens that
something isn’t quite right with the gal’s steering
Again, I’m behind the Lodders in the red
SL and we’re all trying. Plenty of elevation
and loads of not-too-tight corners gives the
Galaxie a chance to show off its dynamic
talent, though the aim is to keep the SL in
sight so Ellen can get some shots of it, while
still navigating. Who better for such a job
than a woman with an iron stomach!
Moving the steering wheel from
side-to-side by 15 degrees or so, I
demonstrate the Galaxie’s newfound steering
response – “have a look at this”. Despite
the obvious limitations of a circa-1963
powered recirculating-ball set-up, there’s
distinct movement from the front end. I
don’t even need to trail brakes into a corner
to get the Gal’s nose to turn in – it just goes
there! And once she’s into a corner, the car’s
balance is fantastic. A ’63 Galaxie might be
a primitive old thing, but you can totally
understand why it was Ford’s motorsport
weapon of the era. The big-block V8 is
positioned exactly where it should be in the
engine bay – aft of the front axle line – the
springs are as big as dinosaur bones, and
with all that weight hanging out behind,
it’s no wonder the Gal’ sits poised on its
outside back wheel in a bend. Cue looks of
astonishment from fellow Tour participants.
Day Two’s sunny and unseasonably
warm weather takes a turn on Day Three.
Our 5.45am meet is a struggle and it’s
been raining. An 89km transport leg to the
below ‘The Crew’ – snapper
Ellen Dewar and author Ponch – in
their George Town dress-up threads.
The weather and the car were often
amazing, though both were prone to
fits of tears and tantrums...
below (l-r) Martin and Garth in a stunning ’53 Jaguar C-Type replica; chatting with the
Lodders between stages; Galaxie certainly fills a lane in Tassie; handling was a revelation!
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Rossarden stage is followed by a 53km
one to the treacherous 12km Elephant
Pass. There’s fog settling in, the road is
soaking wet and very steep, and there’s
lots of turning in under brakes. All of us
take it pretty easy descending in old cars
in such conditions, but I notice on the
fun, flowing 48km transport to our St
Helens lunch stop that something isn’t
quite right with the Gal’s steering.
I perform the same side-to-side
steering manoeuvre as the day before,
but there’s no response – just vagueness.
On the narrow, ill-surfaced road
into St Helens, the Gal’ occasionally
darts towards the centre line, as if it’s
tramlining but almost like it’s steering
itself – sometimes even when the wheel
is pointed in the other direction!
At lunch, honorary pit-crew bloke
and UC contributor Dave Morley gives
our car a once-over and discovers it’s
been spraying power steering fluid in
the engine bay. I top up the reservoir,
chuck in 45 litres of fuel and gingerly
push on, but Pyengana, Weldborough
Pass and The Sideling all lie ahead.
And they’re all challenging. El and I
surrender by moving to the back of the
pack and after each stage, I pop the
bonnet, only to discover that more fluid
is leaking from the steering reservoir.
By the time we reach The Sideling,
my brain has switched to limp-home
mode and the Gal’ is being nursed
like a newborn. With such spectacular
scenery, so much fog and so many
corners, Ellen jumps in the back to snap
away and we drop all the windows for
an unimpeded view. Spectators must
wonder what’s going on because we’re
miles behind the others, and there’s a
small female flailing a camera about,
“I’ve done [the Tour] before in
a 280 automatic sedan but not
with Rosemary as navigator. My
previous navigator’s girlfriend
bought this car and wanted to
sell [so] I gave her $2000 for it.
“We fitted a rollcage after
seeing that car land on its roof
in the Huon River in the Wrest
Point Targa and we bought some
new wheels and tyres for $1250
dollars so it’s your average
bloke’s car.
“I’ve changed the oil and the
filter – I even forgot to change
the plugs – and it’s pretty much
run like clockwork. [We’d like to]
encourage all your readers who
don’t have much money that you
can do it on the cheap!” – BS
Ray & Sue
’57 300SL Roadster
“I bought the [300SL] in 2005
and it underwent a three year
restoration and since then we’ve
been using it often. We’ve done
the Classic Adelaide [and] 8000
miles in the last four years.
“My sister’s boyfriend briefly
drove [a ’50s SL] and I wanted to
buy it but couldn’t afford it. When
I finally could afford to buy it,
he had just sold it! In almost a
knee-jerk reaction I saw one
come up for auction in Sydney
and I bought it. I didn’t check it
out as well as I should have.
I paid market value at the time,
but then had to spend [a lot] to
get it up to scratch. Everybody
seems to love the shape. – RL
Targa Tour
but we just want to make it to Longford
where further inspection can take place.
Between mouthfuls of meat pie, sausage
roll and vanilla ‘snot block’, Morley
checks the steering and discovers the fork
underneath the Pitman arm is flexing a
good 20mm or so (when it shouldn’t move
at all!), indicating there’s a broken spring
or something awry inside. But there’s
nothing loose or disconnected, and it seems
unlikely that we may end our Tour spearing
unintentionally into the scrub!
Friday’s shift of location from Launceston
to Strahan brings even more cornering
challenges, but the Galaxie seems to have
cleared a blockage and is feeling better.
Ellen swaps places with other navigators and
I complete the wet, but amusing, Cethana
stage with Randal Faulkner on board (from
the purple XB GT). Three stages later, El
and I have a riot blitzing through the fast,
flowing Oldina, which is perfectly suited
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to the big Galaxie. Then I’m joined by Sue
Lodder from the SL – another woman with
a rock-solid stomach! – and the amusement
continues through Hellyer Gorge and the
absolutely beautiful, yet fast-paced, Plimsoll.
Word comes through that the SL has
suffered a “mechanical failure” (a tappet,
apparently), so Ellen is couriered in a
sweep vehicle back to us while Ray remains
stranded. We complete the final 33km
Rinadeena stage into Strahan with three
on board, windows down. I straight-line
corners as much as possible to protect the
steering, but still can’t resist having a go.
It’s an amazing road, this main road from
Queenstown to Strahan, and I can’t bear
to waste it. Despite the steering’s vagueness
around straight ahead, it’s still easy to trace a
line in a corner, though we’re now cornering
better going left than right! But the Gal’s
brakes – surely what everyone thought we
be our biggest problem – are totally fine!
Only once, down Elephant Pass, did they
start to smell, and even then the pedal
remained firm and responsive.
Given our survival instincts have
kicked in, the remainder of the 2012
Tour is simply a “get to the finish”
task. We skip the 600km of driving
scheduled for Day Five – and the
5.45am meet – though Sunday’s
kick-off isn’t much later and it still
involves 400km of wheel time to
Hobart and beer-o-clock.
The steering is far from confidenceinspiring, but it’s no worse than before,
and as we glide into Tassie’s east-coast
capital and across the finish line, the
engine is as velvety as it was 1610 miles
earlier. Yep, that’s 2591km – a lot of
mileage for a car that has now travelled
just 47,670 miles in its entire life.
On the wintery cruise back to
Devonport, I relocate to the back seat
and Morley drives. It’s not that I’m over
being in the hot seat; it’s just that I really
want to sit in the back – jacket on,
windows dumped – to soak up a view
I never get to see. And to contemplate
what I’m going to drive next year.
top (l-r) Radiators Plus
checking cooling system; George
Town Prologue stage; plenty of hills;
AOK at Hobart’s Wrest Point Casino
below (l-r) Cruising back
to Devonport; lapping Launceston;
officially Targa Tour finishers