Gauteng historic racing enthusiast Greg Mills is the owner of a unique 1970's F5000 car, the Sana, which was recently invited to take part in a historic race meeting at Phillip Island and, a week later, the curtain-raiser to the Australian Grand Prix.
But, as Frank Sinatra so succinctly put it, you can't have one without the other, so Mills was invited as well - and here's his tongue-in-cheek account of the adventure of a lifetime:
“One people separated by a common language,” observed Winston Churchill of the cultural divides across the North Atlantic.
Despite many commonalities - life under the Southern Cross, a shared love of oval balls and cricket, and a passion for the outdoors - the same might be said for Australians and southern Africans. But it's not as if the language is all that similar either.
Consider: “If you do that, I'll turn your car into a suppository”, “He was found in the proximity to livestock with his pants down”, “Yer car should last longer than yer first marriage”, “If you can't win from the back of the grid, you're not going to win anyway”, “I'm off home to open the fridge and get my leg over” and the favourite of Phillip Island's clerk of the course Michael Holloway, “It's better to hang an innocent man than not to have a hanging at all.”
But many of these gems contain a great deal of common sense, and that's one of two notable aspects about racing in Australia: The strict enforcement of rules and regulations, of which there are many, and a recognition that common sense should prevail in the absence of those rules - although, as will be noted below, I was the victim of an unfortunate lapse in such judgment. But as the assistant clerk of the course at both Phillip Island and Albert Park, sports-car and F5000 ace Kevin Bartlett, reminded us, there was precious little at stake: “There's no sheep station to win here, mate.”
These rules, though occasionally tedious, make for great meetings. Their enforcement is backed up by the imposition of fines - including for missing driver's briefings. They are also cleverly devised, such as in the use of targeted scrutineering of a few, select competitors rather than the lackadaisical and sometimes subjective cursory once-overs usually applied to all.
Phillip Island, from a spectator's vantage, is right behind Goodwood's Revival. The diversity of cars - from Lola T70 Can-Ams to a Porsche 908/2 and three 962s, three Maserati 250F's, two Gurney Eagles, a multitude of historic touring-cars, Formula Juniors, Fords and no fewer than 30 Formula Atlantics and F5000s - is what South Africa could have been, save for a combination of avarice and a lack of foresight and assurance about the political future. And the Phillip Island circuit, with its sweeps, dips, dives and ultra-fast straight (where my F5000 was geared for 270km/h at peak revs, and was bouncing off the rev-limiter all along) is a driver's delight.
The invitation to participate in the Phillip Island meeting and, a week later, the curtain-raiser to the Grand Prix, was unexpectedly received via South African émigré Peter Ellenbogen only four weeks before the race. Not only had the Sana to be properly shaken down after a three-year rebuild, a proper five-litre race engine (rather than the “cooking” four-litre version originally installed) built and/or found, and the complex logistics arranged, which included airfreighting the car to Melbourne in the short time available.
The Sana has a chequered history. Starting off its life as a F3 car, in which guise it competed in the Monaco F3 race with Terry (brother of Australian F1 driver Larry) Perkins driving, it was then converted in turn into an Atlantic and F5000 car. It was remarkably unsuccessful at all three categories, perhaps unsurprisingly given its designer, Gordon Fowell's, previous attempts with the Amon and Tecno-Goral F1 cars.
Comprising little more than a battered monocoque, four corners and some tatty bodywork, I found it in the rafters of a shed in the English midlands in 2008. Michael Budd was entrusted with the restoration which started late in 2009.
After four problem-filled Midvaal test sessions, the car was freighted to Melbourne. However, Thai Airways thoughtfully changed the booking at the last moment, with the result the Sana only arrived at Phillip Island on the Friday rather than the intended Thursday night. So my first Australian run became the first Philliprace.
The distraction of remedying the pre-race drama of a failing steering bracket saw a rear wheel come loose after only two laps. A misfire blighted the second race, but everything came together in the main event on the Sunday, when I was able to work my way from last to finish 15th out of 30, lopping ten seconds off my previous best over a 1min45 lap.
If you've never driven a F5000, it's hard to describe, save to say I have never been in anything so powerful. With contemporary improvements in head design and injection systems, the top cars are producing an alleged 485kW. The acceleration is simultaneously exhilarating and numbing, even though I was giving away at least 150kW to most competitors, all of whom bar one were Chev-powered. For both races the similarly “Leyland” (Rover/Buick) powered Elfin of Paul Trevethen was my immediate benchmark.
And then it was on to Albert Park in Melbourne, a three-hour drive away.
It's hard to comprehend the logistics involved in a modern Formula One meeting if you haven't seen and, especially, been involved in one up close. It's more akin to a military operation than a motor race, with tractors, trailers, scaffolding, vendors, car parks, a dozen entrance facilities, bridges, pontoons, accreditation and media centres, V8 Supercars, historic demonstrations, a celebrity Lexus challenge, Porsche Carrera races, fun-fairs, shuttle services, acres and acres of tents, and burly, monosyllabic security guards, fencing and gates at every step. The only time I saw a F1 car up close was when we went down the pit lane after our qualifying session was twice stopped due to incidents. Modern F1 is not a spectator-friendly occasion.
The Grand Prix circuit is both exciting and impressively smooth, but a sometimes bewildering combination of left-right or right-left corners interspersed by short straights flanked by concrete walls. I missed the first practice since it was declared “wet” and my rain tyres were still being grooved. Qualifying was my only opportunity to learn the track and set a reasonable time - which I managed, though inevitably closer to the blunt than the sharp end of the grid.
In the first race on the Saturday, I drove from 23rd (out of 26 starters) on the grid to 11th overall, enjoying a few fantastic dices on the way. The Chev cars were, as expected, generally faster on the straight and out of the corners, but the nimble Sana, so ably engineered by Michael Budd and Graham Vos, was quicker through and especially into the corners.
The second race, however, reminded me that F5000s need a combination of testicular fortitude, brave pills and a severe lack of imagination at the consequences of an accident. I managed to make up three places at the start and was lying sixth on race aggregate a lap and a half from the finish when an unguided Matich decided the best way to get past me was to go over the top.
The Sana ended up in the kitty litter with one corner hanging off and I landed in Alfred Hospital after getting a bit of a thump on the head from a flying F5000 wheel. They are heavy, I discovered, but fortunately there was not much in there to shake about.
Regardless, the Sana had improved again now to be faster than midfield pace. I was fifteen seconds a lap quicker than the only other non-Chev runner, the Trevethen Elfin, in a two-minute lap. And whatever the final result, this was truly the adventure of a lifetime.
Lolas and Chevrons dominated the F5000 entry, along with Kiwi-produced McCraes and Matichs and the Australian Elfins. There was only one March and not a single McLaren in sight, sadly, and few of the older cars appeared, with the notable exceptions of Bob Harborow's ex-Mark Donohue Lola T192 and the ex-Jackie Pretorius Surtees TS5 sympathetically restored by New Zealand's Warwick Mortimer - though Doug Serrurier would probably be spinning in his grave given its Chev rather than Ford power.
And of course there was only one Sana - or as one Aussie wag described it noting the protection it afforded, Insana. More than anything, however, both events were “made” by a combination of such dry Aussie humour, sheer efficiency and hospitality.
The 30+ strong F5000 circus, who race regularly together in the Tasman Revival on both sides of the strait and at meetings in the UK and mainland Europe, are laid-back and friendly if hyper-competitive. The Phillip Island meeting was won by Greg Thornton, an ebullient Englishman driving an ex-Peter Gethin Chevron B24, from James Davison, grandson of Australian legend and four-times local Grand Prix winner Lex. But an outsider, even one in the unique and unusually angular Sana, was made to feel at home under the accommodating wing of Australian F5000 stalwart Bob Harborow and colleagues.
“F5000s - Ridding the World of Fossil Fuels” was the politically-incorrect slogan blazoned on more than one of the 1970s' monsters. Their speed, rumbling noise, variety and loud colours recall an era when drivers were characters, rather than tools for public relations, and racing cars looked different from each other and were made with aluminum and rivets, not as Tamiya-like plastic mouldings.
And it's what South African motorsport has given away and is missing.