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Last updated on August 9th, 2017 at 08:49 am
Apologies for lack of posts—and thanks to all who kept the open thread below wide open.
I’ve just driven a Bentley Continental GTC from California to Las Vegas. A delightful romp, or so it was meant to be, until I learned via text message of Peter Brock’s death. Brock won the first motor race I ever saw, in 1972; a couple of decades later, I spent a day at his farm discussing everything from his fondness for meditation to the torque-binding characteristics of A9X rear axles.
A genuine and delightful oddball was Brock. He once embraced all-change-is-bad conservatism, campaigning for Malcolm Fraser in 1983 against Bob Hawke. By the end of the eighties, Holden had dumped him for his peculiar faith in crystals. At one point Brock converted from a smoking, drinking carnivore to a non-drinking smokeless vegetarian within 24 hours.
Yesterday morning, in memory of Australia’s finest domestic driver, I shot that Bentley up to 140 mph. Not much of a tribute, really; as Brock would have been aware, it still had another 50 mph left.
More posts as soon as I’m back in Sydney.
