Targa Tasmania 2008 Day 8 – High Plains Drifters

Day 8 and our assault on the north Taswegia coast. Another early start, heaps of hotel admin, cold muesli, fruit, and cold coffee, into to the taxi, and we were off again to the Velodrome. Arriving there the normal admin - sort the car, ask the Targa volunteer officials for guidance, get a "Da know mate", grab the big barista coffees, light the M3, out the main doors, line up in our Packets, ready for our next 'date with death'

While waiting for kick-off, Nav sidled over to listen to a conversation between Skipper and Elder Statesman John - driving the Yellow M3 mirror of ours - a man with massive experience both in Targa's and motor racing in general. Skipper - in deep discussions with John about shock absorbers, fuel mixes, tyre psi etc. - commented that he'd like to get his son Mitch more involved in motor sports like moto cross and touring etc., to which John replied "Why would you want to do that ? So he can turn into a hoon like you?"

The dreaded start horn sounded for the next charge, all Packets quickly belted up in their vehicles, and we were off - 10 metres to the Taswegian constabulary breathalising technicians. On arrival, Skipper somewhat concerned about previous evenings imbibing, decided on a cunning strategy to throw off the focus of the constabulary with particularly humorous comments. As the constable stepped forward to administer the 'breath of death', Skipper piped up "Only had 2 milkshakes last evening constable." Constable, standing menacingly over Skipper somewhat perplexed, regathers himself and answers "You'll be right. Now Blow!" Sheepishly Skipper achieved the task at hand and was sent on his way

Driving out of Launceston, the pocket rocket made its way to the dreaded closed stage Merseylea - or 'The Masher'. While awaiting our start instructions, the Nav had a long conversation with fellow M3 Nav Suzannne, showing HKTT Nav her cars 760 Garman Nuvi GPS car navigation system. What a system ! Times, distances, speeds, air temperatures on Mars - the absolute Full Monty in pocket rocket guidance systems. Recommended retail price a mere A$799, but $624 deal price at Newcastle JB Hi Fi. The Nav, frantically taking notes on all of this, undertook to pass specs & details to Skipper's partner Tinka for Skip's Christmas present, with balance of Skip’s family Chrissy holiday budget spent on tent rental at the Wangaratta caravan park - in a no-power tent site. Near the abbattoir

So it was on to Devonport Town, a colourful conglomeration on the northern coast of Taswegia; the site of the HKTT's ferry arrival mere days before, and where car warning stickers were in abundance, including one on the rear window of a local ute (Skipper's Ed Note : Ute isn't actually a North American Indian tribe somehow alive and hunting buffalo in the wilds of Taswegia, but is in fact short for 'Utility Vehicle'.) - "Lost your cat. Try looking under my tyres"

An so it was into the closed street stage, mother's holding their babies on most street corners to admire the prowess of the three M3 Drivers - John (aka Mad), Daniel (aka Maniac), and the Skipper (aka Maniacal). It was over in seconds, assorted houses, fences, and fire stations marginally missed by the flying 3M3's, but luckily with just one or two significant hazards prominent on the course. Possibly the most severe being a mere 5 metre drop into a deep muddy estuarine river, with the Skip enquiring of The Nav before the run "Any major cautions?", Nav reviewing and answering "Yes, road goes hard right - if you miss the turn, the Mersey River’s straight ahead." Skip "I meant real cautions Nav!"

Day completed it was back to Launceston, get cleaned up, complete admin, then ready for another big night out on Cascade premium low alcohol lite beer. As the HKTT prepared to depart our hotel room for the restaurant, all lights turned out, with the setting April sun romantically streaming in through the blinds, another Packet 2 participant knocked on our door. Quick as a flash, horror etched around his ears, Skip yells "Get behind the wall before they think that we're gay!" The Nav, realising the threat, dropped to his right, and stood very very still. The Skipper opened the door and eased the threat out towards the lifts, pointing to the Aussie Rules football results in the local papers left by the lift, as the room door was closed very very quietly - crisis averted

And so ended Day 8; over half way there, death for The Nav now looking less and less likely. The next day Strahan, and a day of infamy, with the South-Western Taswegia Woman's Auxiliary Road Safety Association - not for profit - waiting in ambush. Day 9 would prove to be costly for our Tour in more ways than one, but more about that in an upcoming update

Until then, overdose on octane

This is The Nav. Gone for all money