Its 10am on a Saturday morning, the day after my Chev became legal on Victorian roads for the first time in who knows how many years.
After calling in to visit my friend Les Francis, we set off in convoy, my 28 National Tourer following Les and his wife Jan in their 28 Chev Truck. The two old vehicles must have looked pretty impressive travelling up the fern lined roads climbing into the Dandenongs. The scenery took my mind off the mechanical short comings of a car that had not even been run in engine wise, and still required numerous adjustments to the brakes and clutch just to mention a few. Never was I so happy to sit behind a slow truck.
After what seemed an eternity to a driver that was still learning how to drive double clutch and tame the beast, we ended up at Doongalla, the remains of an old homestead long gone in a fire, but surrounded by beautiful gardens and a breath taking view in all directions.
A quick photo stop to catch this young man in a track suit top with hair down to whereever. I wonder where he is now. Back in the cars for the trip back down the mountain and home. Locked her up in the garage, a list of jobs to be done, adjustments, tinkering and re-adjusting, which still goes on today, but the required adjustments are minor and the words "constructive tinkering" are more applicable.
Little was I to know back in 1975 how much a part of my life this piece of machinery was to become, the highs and the absolute lows that would see me in despair walking away in disgust and losing interest for weeks, and sometimes years at a time, then coming back and picking up the tools or firing up the engine as if it was yesterday. But that's what this so called hobby does to you. An obsession? I will let others make that judgement as the postings continue.