Yesterday was a day spent pouring over photographs, magazines, and news articles. From time to time Bob would appear from his workshop for a natter, before heading back to carry on with his automotive alchemy. I have taken copious notes, been given contact details for more folks (in Finland and Australia), and realised generally that the 1968 London-Sydney Marathon is but a footnote in Bob's long career - apparently one of his knick-names is Captain Araldite as once he gets in a car, you can't get him out! He is a man who fell in love with cars in the very early 1950s, and made them the central part of his life for the next 60 years. Mind you, in 1952 he was about to be put forward for the Tour de France, so successful was he as a competitive cyclist. Only an accident prevented this from happening, which led to cars, which led to where he is now.
We have been joking about how he can remove and replace an engine in 30 minutes, but doesn't/doesn't want to know how to use a PC! I showed him his Wikipedia entry, which he was fascinated by, amused that all the facts were correct. Also, coincidentally, in 1968 once the Marathon was over, Duncan, who I met with on Saturday, sold his car to Bob. Bob rebuilt it (it had of course hit a bus in Teheran) and went on to rally it for 18 months before selling it back to Duncan. They had pretty much lost touch, but I have now given Bob Duncan's contact details. Bob also insisted I read the initial draft of the biography his friend his writing. He is ambivalent about this whole enterprise, mostly because he is very private and feels uncomfortable about appearing to brag. A fascinating read, I told him that within the contemporary motor racing scene in Australia, there will be many folks who would relish to chance to know a bit about what has made him tick all these years.
So, I was outside for a fag break, when I caught a glimpse of movement to my right. I glance across... two wallabies happily grazing 50 yards from where I stood! Then, a small flock of kookaburras land in a tree to my left and start that astonishing, maniacal laughter they have. On top of the koala yesterday, in terms of Australian wildlife you can't get much better than that.
With Colleen away in Sydney, and Bob's lifelong refusal to learn to cook (!), we went into Taree for dinner. Lovely seafood restaurant and my chance to thank him for his hospitality. Mind you, as we went in my car, I can't tell you how stressful it was to drive this saloon car racing, trans-continental-experienced champion the 20 minutes there and 20 minutes back. Along dark, pot-holed, rain-drenched country roads and into a town I have never visited in my life. I don't think I impressed him much - the rental car's wipers and indicators are the reverse of my BMW, so I got in a right bother as it was raining. Poor man must have thought I only learnt to drive last week. I did learn something though... during rallies, if you're navigating, never say 'left' or 'right', as this gives the driver too long to think about which is which, by which time you've passed the junction or crashed. Instead, always say 'my side' or 'your side'.
Must try this when next giving Rob directions - "at the next junction, to me, no, to you"!
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