This part of New South Wales reminds me a little of rural France. Driving along the old Sydney-Brisbane highway from Taree, it twists, rises and falls through woods and meadows, and crosses Peg Leg Creek. My final destination is a right turn off the road and onto an unmade track that bounces and shudders the Hyundai all the way up towards a large, single storey house set someway back above the highway. As I pull up, a man appears clad in blue overalls, and approaches as I turn off the engine and open the door.
Bob
Having re-watched his film the other day, I would recognise him anywhere, despite the 45 years since passed. Greetings and handshakes, and so begins one of those days that will never be forgotten. Bob and his wife Colleen welcome me in and before I know it, we are sat around the dining table, tea with scones, cream and jam all laid out, and we plunge into Bob's life behind the wheel of a racing or rally car.
Funny, self-effacing, practical, I listen transfixed as he explains his attitude to life - as a boy, while in hospital for an operation on his feet, he contracted polio which left him immobile. Being bed-bound, he read. And read. And read. Books fired his imagination and determination and he progressed from learning to walk to competitive cycling to competitive motor-racing. His first competitive race was in 1951. His most recent? Last Sunday! He has survived rally and racing accidents and more than one bout with cancer, and attributes his longevity to the spirit that took him from a childhood sick bed to becoming one of the most respected saloon car racing drivers in Australian history.
We walk up to his 'toy room' - a huge garage and workshop, containing three 'classic' circuit-racing cars, two vans and beneath a blanket, a Hillman Imp, its bodywork immaculate. He remarks that the workshop is a mess. I have never seen a more tidy set up. In a side room (the engine room), the walls are covered with photographs of his racing life.
Before I know it, hours have passed. Next up, Bob has to 'quickly' take an engine out of one of the vans, so he digs out a photo-album covering the filmed journey he made from Sydney to London, and as he sorts out the van, so I scan and copy picture after picture, chatting to Colleen as I go. At on point I am urgently beckoned outside - there in the trees behind the house is a koala, cuddled up in a fork of branches! The first I've ever seen outside captivity or in a controlled environment.
Will I stay for dinner? Of course I must stay over! Slowlv I realise I am being confronted with that wonderful, genuine hospitality and enthusiasm I have so often experienced during this marathon undertaking of mine. Time and time again I have journeyed to meet these adventurers from 45 years ago, whether England, France, the US or Australia, and encountered generousity of spirit and simple 'matter-of-fact' welcome. So, a quick dash back to the motel to grab my stuff (followed by a second dash because I'd left something behind), and I'm here, listening to a life story in Aussie motorsports from a man who has attempted at all times to be honest, straight-forward and careful to only take on what he could afford, attaching huge importance to reputation. At times deeply moving, Bob is an extraordinary man with a permanent twinkle in his eye and a real appreciation in what I am trying to do, even though an established writer is also trying to write his biography. As Bob said yesterday, 'well you contacted me first!'.
Once again I also feel a huge responsibility to the men and women I have spoken to these past 3 years, and a familiar feeling of frustration that circumstances have often prevented me from 'cracking on' with the Marathon project. Ah, if only I could do nothing else but this until it's done.
Colleen cooked a lovely dinner, and we sat and chatted about all sorts. Then settled down to watch one of the films I have of the '68 Marathon, which Bob had never seen, him pointing things out I didn't know or hadn't noticed. It was again moving to witness both Bob and Colleen watch a stream of familiar faces on the screen, friends who have since passed away.
Now sitting here surrounded by materials, photograph albums and scrap books. Colleen has driven down to Sydney and Bob, having repaired one of his vehicles while I have been here, has driven off to sort a few things out. Further insistance that I stay as long as I need to (I need time to go through this tremendous archive!).
I am a very fortunate man indeed!
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