Angela
Richardson on Point Duty
In the vein of my older garage-mate (and currently
hospitalized with a seriously broken bone) the J2, I have been asked to report
on my experiences in the recent MG Classic Marathon.
After some neglect over the last
40,000 miles since my last mechanical rebuild, my Skipper, known as “Hairy” for
obvious and less obvious reasons, decided a check-over was necessary.
My front joints were lubricated, any air expunged from my brake lines, new
footwear replaced the balding 40,000 mile Michelins and my timing was checked
to improve the heart. Finally a bit of
looseness in my steering box was corrected with new bushes. To say the least, I was feeling a little more
sprightly and keen to get some good miles under my new sneakers.
Blossom, driver of my old mate the J2,
had entered a half marathon walking race the same weekend leaving my Skipper
and his mate Maurie to represent her in the MG
Classic Marathon.
Boastfully, I can claim that whilst
my bones are pretty primitive and my footwear the same as those worn by MGA’s, my total weight at one ton is relatively light, and
my beautiful heart, designed by motorcycle fiend Edward Turner, pokes out 140
healthy horses, making me a little more energetic than most of my fellow
competitors, I’m handicapped only by a supposedly mild dislike for corners.
We arrived at the start to find a
great collection of equally enthusiastic motors including to my delight,
another Daimler, although really an imposter, a Jaguar in drag! I overhear its owner saying he plans to fit
a later supercharged six cylinder engine, obviously unhappy with the strength
of its original heart.
All the owners disappear
to what I learn was a thorough briefing by the organisers,
and as we are regarded as
“heavy pedallers” we are held back amongst the last starters.
Nothing like throwing down the gauntlet I say.
Traffic
lights and city traffic separate us from the other pedallers,
but before long we arrive at the first checkpoint, and here “Hairy” really lets
the side down, apparently unable to do the simple mathematics required. I hear the often used excuses “too much wine,
too much food, and too little sleep the night before has befuddled his
brain”. It’s also apparent that he and Maurie quickly decide to forget the timing and just have a
“bloody good drive”, fine by me!
Soon we
were into the country with great roads and very little traffic. The gravel roads are excellent and my narrow
footwear bites through the gravel ensuring good control. Morning tea is the first real challenge for
my crew, both very conscious of how easy the middle-aged waistline can expand.
By the
lunch break at Piopio, my Skipper had been pressing
my loud pedal harder than usual in these fuel conscious times and we arrive
amongst the first dozen or so, having dispatched a few M.G.’s along the way.
This
time the local fire brigade tested my crew’s resolve and home cooked goodies
were added to their waistlines!
The afternoon
route was obviously really enjoyed by my Skipper and navigator and against the
instructions of the organisers, some serious speeds
appeared on my speedometer there being very little other traffic apparent and
the roads superb. We arrive at the finish
at the Lakelands Motel in Taupo
first and we’ve won! Well not really
for both driver and navigator have forgotten all about average speeds as well
as the timing!
Whilst
I’m tucked up under my cover (top still down) I gather my team enjoyed a really
good evening with yet more temptations to add to their already bloated
waistlines.
Sunday
morning, the weather doesn’t look so great and I’m rushed around to the hotel
canopy to stay dry whilst the organisers issue the
day’s orders.
Once
again we’re amongst the first away and the organisers
have found more superb roads, sealed and gravel to test my nettle. We arrive at the first check-point first
after a stirring drive and the sound of my fruity exhaust has been heard and
approved of as we wound our way down to the check point at the Ohakuri hydro dam.
Despite the morning’s rain, the gravel roads are dusty and it’s a relief
the BGT we’ve been hounding let’s us past.
The final culinary test at….. school for lunch
sees the weather starting to look serious, and despite hearing my Skipper do
his usual boast of “tops down unless it’s snowing”, he and Maurie
slink off to raise my roof to the applause of those aware of this back down.
Away again
to the finish and my crew, too confident by now at hardly having put a wheel
wrong, miss a turn in Tirau, and despite returning
within half a mile, they find at least 12 – 15 cars have slipped through. Seeing this as a challenge we start to try
and work our way back to the lead, but it is soon apparent we’re not far from
the finish and it’s not worth the effort.
Certainly
my little V8 heart has been singing like a bird all weekend, my brakes
inspiring more confidence than usual and my steering a little sharper than
before.
The
finish is at the
Bryce
and Brett Gliddon in the racy little black number
(MGA Coupe) are first, Paul and Bronwyn Walbran in the racing green MGB
Roadster, fresh from the Silver Fern Rally are second, and Neil and Sue
Courtney in the VINOUS yellow MGF are third.
It’s
been a superb weekend of good fast motoring over truly excellent roads.
I know
my team are on a high and really appreciative of the organisers efforts, did they say 8000 kms
in total plotting the route? Gordon
Bennett!!! Blossom has been gently but
kindly ousted out of my navigators seat…I believe it
now belongs to Maurie!
Humps
SP250
Dart