Tony Haycock , 12 May 2011

It’s a scary thing, the internet. You never know when something from the past reappears in front of you. There I was a work, minding my own business when an e-mail arrives from my brother. While looking for goodness knows what, he had discovered a photo of someone involved in committing a deplorable, brutal, almost inexcusable atrocity upon a motor car. The worst thing was that it was MY car, and I was the guilty party!

Early in 2010, in conjunction with the Top Gear Live stage show, a four day convoy from Invercargill to Auckland was organized for “Classic” (and there is a term wide open to interpretation!) cars. The organisers rightly decided that having some vintage (and that is a term which is NOT open to interpretation) cars as part of the event would be a good thing.

So at the start line in Invercargill, of the 12 cars which did the entire event – others joined in enroute - my 1930 Durant, my brother and sister in law Derek and Becky in their 1929 Chevrolet, the mixed Thompson/McNair crew with Delage D8 and V12 aero engined Sunbeam, along with Terry Roycroft in his very famous type 35A Bugatti were there to show the more modern drivers that vintage cars are just as capable as their later model counterparts in covering long distances without difficulty.

Day One was the longest. Invercargill to Christchurch is a bloody long day, no matter what you are driving. I have to admit that I didn’t do all of it. Due to a work commitment that evening, I jumped ship in Dunedin and flew to Christchurch.

My co-driver for the day, Rangiora High School Automotive Studies teacher Richard Smith, an avid car enthusiast, but a vintage version, was left to his own devices to discover the delights of a crash gearbox, mechanical brakes and in the case of my Durant, left hand drive. I didn’t drop him in it completely – Derek was instructed to hold station behind him in the Chev in case of trouble.

I am told that the look on Richard’s face when what I suspect was his first attempt at a double declutch downshift from top to second gear resulted in a box full of neutrals, and the gear lever in his hand but no longer attached to the gearbox, was one well worth seeing. 

Fortunately the AA service officer following at the rear of the convoy was equipped with a torch, and the offending piece of cold steel was reinserted into the appropriate orifice, and normal service was resumed, with full access to all three speeds as required.

Another day, another early start as the convoy moved on to Picton, and the ferry to Wellington. With the Chev. and Durant being the two slowest cars in the event, Derek and I were normally first on the road. I had a change of co-driver as Richard went back to work, and Brendon Wilshire, a fellow Peugeot fan, with a sad penchant for very elderly Fords took over navigational duties. Well, he should have, but 

being nothing more than a car whore, he spent the next three days jumping from car to car, leaving me with a revolving population of displaced passengers!

After four full days on the road it was a proud moment when the convoy, now boasting 30-odd cars pulled into Auckland. There was an especially strong bond among the group of eleven cars which had done the entire run from Invercargill and I think we five Vintage drivers had given a pretty good demonstration of the abilities of what some people mistakenly think of museum pieces.

So you may be asking now, what has this got to do with a photo on the ‘net? Over the three days the Top Gear Live show was on at the ASB Showgrounds in Auckland, the convoy cars were on display at the venue. Following each performance, we convoy drivers had ten minutes to put on a demonstration on the test track.

Somehow this turned into a rather extreme test of car and driver, three times daily. I suspect the photo on the ‘net was taken on the first night, where we were not aware that we were needed on track, and it is just possible we may have availed ourselves of slightly more of Top Gear’s hospitality than was wise. Too many canapés can be a bad thing!

At the end of it all, I had run out of tread on most of the tyres, and had rubbed the paint off the front mudguard brackets. And all that remained was the small matter of driving back to Christchurch. This was accomplished in two days, and the car never gave the slightest hint of trouble. Not a bad advert for boring vintage Americana.