If, like me, you are a frustrated petrol head whose only chance of being the next Colin (-ette?) Macrae (RIP) is if the DVLA gave out free lessons in rally driving as a condition of owning a car, then the next best thing might be to mosey on down to your nearest rally event. If your nearest rally is in a UK forest then, so long as the weather holds off and you don't mind a bit of a walk, it should be an interesting few hours. If your nearest event happens to be the Queensland round of the Australian Rally Championship, forget it; I've seen more sideways action on our ride-on lawn mower.
The day started badly: Pottering up the highway on Dave's 1953 Matchless motorbike, we were nearly side swiped into the afterlife by a tosser towing a caravan, clearly revelling in the glory of actually being able to overtake something. Shortly afterwards, Dave was stopped at a junction by traffic cops lying in wait for people not stopping at an unnoticeable stop sign. Having been too busy negotiating the highly dangerous and confusing road markings to see any stop sign, poor Dave was slapped with a $225 fine and three more points on his licence. Judging by the number of other rally spectators unfamiliar with the area who were also being stopped, Queensland Transport must have raked in a fortune in revenue today. Much like on the M4 in Wales during Rally GB, Queensland also has its own highway men. We can only assume they were working on commission.
At the rally stage we were greeted by friendly marshals, lots of parking and a short walk in the sunshine to the spectators' area. This made a nice change from tramping mile after mile through muddy fields and forests in the freezing rain in Blighty. The abundance of parking should have been our first warning sign however. That, and the high concentration of competitors' friends and family who were spectating around us. They were the only other people IN THE WORLD who could possibly be interested in what turned out to be a mind numbingly boring event.
The other clue lay in the fact that there were only 66 competitors in the combined Australian Rally Championship and Other People categories, pinged off the start in two minute intervals, allegedly. Seemed more like ten to us. On a recent British Rally Championship round there were 307 competitors plus reserves, most of whom were competing in championships, thereby showing some commitment, unlike the free wheeling grannies at Imbil this weekend.
I had been excited at the prospect of watching powerful, turbo charged beasts careering down a steep hill into a hairpin right with the possibility of an 'off' on the left hand side if they didn't throttle hard enough out of the bend. But after standing through a couple of hours of Datsun Cherries and things called Geminis with drivers seemingly having the time to wave at their proud mums and dads in the 'crowd', we'd had enough.
Off we tootled on the Matchless, avoiding the highway this time, taking the beautiful scenic route to Kenilworth and its lovely cafés. Where I was charged $17 for half a plate of lettuce. What a great way to round off a rubbish day.
