Up at 5am, streaking through room admin, no sign of Skipper at Launceston hotel check out desk. Walking up to desk Ther Nav sais "Good morning, could I check out please. Lovely hotel. Will pay everything in cash." The somewhat flustered desk man asked The Nav about which of the ready bills was mine. Desk then asked "You're not with that chap who shot through the reception area, yelled "Bill, 308!" and disappeared outside are you?" Nav replies " 'fraid so." Desk "Your not driving the Targa with him are you?" Nav " 'fraid so." Desk shakes his head and mumbles "jeez" 
Some angst on this the final day at the Launceston hotel. After 4 days of sweat and smell, Skip and The Nav put in their hotel laundry bag. Later that day fellow M3 Nav Narelle showed us the room 4 metres down and across the hallway with the words "GUEST LAUNDRY" on the door in 150 point font, advising hers cost $6 - including the drier! At check out, reviewing the HKTTs $39 laundry bill, and after days of spending $150 a day for a tank of 98 Hi-Octane fuel, Skip fumes "How much!?" Bad hotel research admin from The Nav who took it on the chin, with no early week brief received from Skipper to ‘figure out our floor’On to the Velodrome, beaten to the punch for space on the baggage van by a dozen competitors parked ready at 6am (Skipper's Ed Note : Shoulda ripped their spark plugs out last night. Then we'd have had no dramas!), bags loaded with the help of 'Hot Dog' and 'Coal', to which Nav commented "Is that C O L E?" and gets a "Na, C O A L. Look it's on me t shirt. Not me real name though mate." The Nav having a think about this, understands it's an excellent technique to baffle the identity fraudsters in Guatamala
Skipper then sais "Look at this !" On the front page of the main Launceston morning newspaper, their Ed has scribed "[The] Motoring editor of the UK's The Telegraph Newspaper wrote "Rather than even attempt to describe the experience here, I will only urge you to include it in your life at least once if you can......." The Nav mumbled under his breath "Bloody idiot"
A long 50Km drive follows and we reach Cethana (Skipper's Ed Note : Pronounced with a 'Sssseth'), a closed stage of almost 40Km through sub-alpine mountain, plateaus, and down through deep river valleys; considered to be the best long section tarmac road in the world. The Nav doesn't remember much about this the longest stage of Day 8, except at the end of the long plateau, speedometer reading close to 180 (Skipper's Ed Note : For those personnel still living in Imperial measures, that equates to about 112 miles an hour), yelling "Blind crest, long left down hill, 140 metres !!!" Skipper yelling "How Long!?" Nav "Loooooong, 140 metres!" Skip "How Long?!" Nav "LOOOOOOONG, ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY METRES !!!" Skip "Thanks Nav”
Screaming to the bottom of the hill, many minutes later, eyes blinking and body feeling the effects at the END of 'this longest run', a Taswegian Government health warning on a massive sign on the side of the roads reminded us "Fatigue Can Be Fatal." End of the run Skipper, still buzzing, notes "Did ya see, 180 k's at the top! Best so far!" The Nav nods in a stupour. Kilometres later, Nav's jaw locked and iris' dilate as he suddenly realised Skip was at that moment looking at Speedometer in admiration, just as Nav was yelling "Blind crest, long left downhill, 140 metres............ !”
Into Sensational Strahan by the sea, The Nav driving, Skip still struggling with navigation theory through this small west Taswegia coastal holiday town. On to the big red half donut at the finish, with local MC announcer asking Skipper through the window "What was your favourite stretch of road?" Unbelievably, Skipper was speechless. The Nav grabbed the microphone and yelled to the people of Strahan "The flat bit!"A few hours shooting the breeze in Strahan. Car chores then completed, drive to Queenstown 40 km's away where the HKTT were staying for the night, a meal with some infamous 'Packet 2 personnel', then bed by - our readers are not going to believe this - 8.30pm for a 5am start tomorrow, the final fang into Hobart Town
And so ended the penultimate competition day of this '08 Targa. A day of high drama, ranging from baggage handling heart-burn, to laundry laments, to timely local government health warnings. Tomorrow the final Targa Day. And maybe, just maybe, the HKTT team will get some real driving in
Until then
Go hard or Go Home
This is The Nav. Chequered
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