Health Warning - from this report forward, all readers should review these updates with empty hands, and avoid concurrently sipping hot drinks while leaning over computer keyboards and screens. The HKTT disclaim any liability for sticky keys, shorted mother boards, or death by choking
Day 5 dawns, and a day of frenetic activity beckons, with Skipper tossing and turning all night with excitement, and The Nav 'a log of wood' with exhaustion. Darkness, rest, slumbering..….and then "Oi, Nav, get up and get showered, its 6.15 and we've got to get going!" The Nav leaps out of bed in his boxers, standing dazed and confused for several minutes, trying to figure out his current location, thinking that maybe buying a hand-held GPS would have been a good idea after all, and then the sound of Nav's own alarm sounding its 6.15 reveille call snaps him into the cold hard present
S,S,S,&S, down to full breakfast with Skipper asking if he can have just baked beans as the continental breakfast option at no extra charge so as not to risk the overall integrity of the kitty, pick up gear from room, shuttle bus and talking to other shuttle bus passengers with their glazed, open-eyed, nostrils flaring, jugular pumping look as the excitement of Day 1 racing dawns. Into cars, line up in the wrong order causing cussing and chest thumping anguish for the rule-bound Volvo T5 driving Packet Leader John and his trusty Chief Nav George, and then we're off !!!
45 minutes later we're finished.......and now we sit for our first hour and a half tea stop. A genteel time with Toorak, South Yarra, Scotch College types chatting sociably, scoffing pies, sausage rolls, cup cakes, and scones with fresh whipped cream and jam - in the car park of the Temco specialized ferrous metal alloy factory – while holding their cups of coffee or Earl Grey tea between thumb and fore-finger......with Skipper and The Nav upsetting the apple cart somewhat while lobbying the Packet Leaders' (Skipper's Ed Note : A 'Packet' is a group of about 10 cars travelling in convoy, in order, in unison, with no passing, no speeding, and no hoon-like behaviour allowed. A simile in one concise sentence being 'Octane fuelled funeral procession'.).....Nav takes us back to the story......lobbying the Packet Leaders’ to hold a 'Donut' competition in the car park - causing some spilt coffee moments by Packet Leaders' over their silk, emblem emblazoned souvenir jackets (Skipper's Ed Note : A 'Donut' is a tire-smoking circular burnout, at or near maximum engine rev count)
Then it was on to Georgetown. Line up, 10th in our Packet. While waiting, and after being breathalized by a cabal of local constables, Skipper yells out at to what looks like the Chief Constable of Northern Tasmania and Bass Strait Islands "Excuse me, is the speed limit around the town streets for our timed run 60 kmph?", and gets a terse, low toned reply "50! And turn your head lights on, make sure your seat belts and air bags are working, and stay 100 metres back from the car in front!"
More waiting, moving up to Start Line – and then our Packet screams off - 180 metres hard right, 110 metres hard right, 160 metres hard left, 130 metres chicane leading 100 metres hard left etc. 300 metres hard left through roundabout 150 metres DOUBLE CAUTION hair-pin right etc. 250 metres hard right 30 metres hard left, 120 metres look left wave at little old lady in camping chair in her driveway who is our one fan in Tasmania, 120 metres CAUTION road narrows 150 metres CAUTION dip then hard left then hard right etc. 100 metres hard right DOUBLE CAUTION into hair pin etc. 150 metres tight right rounding bend 250 metres hard right 400 metres straight FINISH LINE. Breaking. Stop. Time Control. 70 metres wave at wine drinking mob in Sponsors tent. 85 metres park car. 45 seconds sit dumb-founded. 3 minutes get post-tramautic stress disorder
Previously, at the formal briefing Monday, our Overall Tour Leader remained adamant that we MUST drive the first Georgetown Prologue within the 50kmph speed limit as seen before the start. Skipper, post the Georgetown run just completed and then being interrogated about speeding practice for the run, was asked what speed did he hit in the 90 degree hard right hand turns? Skipper sheepishly replied "85 kmph.....mate" expecting ramifications. After this revelation Packet Leader John responded "Ah we left ya for dead! Tomorrow it'll get a lot more exciting mate." The Nav innocently enquired about what the speeds will be tomorrow, to which Packet Leader responded "Lightning!"
After the Prologue, Skipper and The Nav enjoyed some nosh at the Sponsors Tent, imbibing water and lemonade while the fellow Tourers’ got stuck into gallons of locally brewed delights. Food was sensational, including Tasmanian seafood and meats, and a bar brimming with vino and brews. Commentary from the all-knowing commentary box educating us, with erudite analyses including "Ah, and that was Jim Richards in his brand new 2008 Porsche GT3. Quite a coup to drive this car for a man who's won the Targa Tasmania on a couple of occasions." Fellow commentator - "Ah, actually Bazza, he's won the Targa on 8 occasions." At completion of the Main Race, it was back to the car park and then standing around for almost an hour, as the hordes of traffic departs, wearing our blue, BMW Racing uniforms and assorted wrap around sunnies, gassing on with Packet Leader John whether he'll be thrown out of the Targa for doing 110 kmph in a 50 kmph speed zone
No sooner that you could say "Brockie", Skipper and Nav were surrounded by hordes of kids, Mums, Dads, and sponsors asking for our autographs. "Oy Jimmie, get over here ! There's work to do !" Nav yells over to Skip. "Righto, Andrew. Into it." Skip yells back. Many minutes later, caps, hats, shirts, posters and flags autographed by ‘Jimmy’ Skipper and ‘Andrew’ Nav, job was done, but not before photo ops were completed, with Mothers placing their infants in the arms of Skipper for said photos, and The Nav nervously mumbling in the background "This can only lead to a GT3 in someones garden in about 19 years….." Unfortunately The Nav's view of the future was confirmed when the mother asked ‘Jimmy’ to sign her babies shorts and shirt, on the basis that Skipper will be a future Michael Schumacher, and that that signature will put her baby through Melbourne University
(Skipper's Ed Note : ‘Jimmy’ aka Richards. Legendary Australian Touring Car and Bathurst Champion. Multiple winner of the full Targa Tasmania, 4 time Australian Touring Champion. And ‘Andrew’ aka Merdecki, fellow legendary Australian race car champion)
Afterwards, the HKTT made our way back to the Launceston Velodrome, chores were completed such as filling the tank, washing the car, and affixing flags and names to the exterior. The pocket rocket was left at the Velodrome for the good people of Launceston's visit to have a gander, then it was off for a good Chinese nosh up downtown with Packets 2 and 4, then back to the hotel for an early one as Reveille call at 5.45am on Day 6 would be a challenge
Some reflections on the life in Launceston -
A) Safety first in Tassie, with an elderly gentleman and his Schitzu terrier taking their morning stroll on the road shoulder of the main highway leaving Launceston, humungous German performance cars screaming by at over 110 kmph, the spunky Schitzu snarling at each, and Skipper and The Nav visualising a momentarily horizontal but suddenly empty dog leash
B) Hotel asking The Nav to type the words "green cow" into browser search engine to get the hotel network and Nav's laptop to communicate
C) Great comfort in our 4 and a half star hotel, in downtown Launceston where the only sound we hear day at night is............nothing............except for the Launceston Church Cathedral clock banging off hourly like Big Ben within metres of our hotel room window, assuring action-man Skipper and trusty Nav that we are safe, secure, and sleep-less in the Land of the Marsupial Devil
So, now understanding what shell-shock on the Western Front was like, The Nav slips into those trusty HK Stanley Market silk boxers and glides off into the world of high octane dreams, knowing that tomorrow is the Big One. 240 kilometres, 7 closed road stages, and an elderly chap taking his Schitzu for a morning walk
Until then
This is The Nav. Comatose
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