1994

Wliat a day!  Four intrepid souls arrived at the shale oval only to find that most of it was underwater.  Then when we saw that Rod Pashley had bolted on some fearsome knobbly tyres (that he had just happened to come across) I tliink we all realised this would be a day to remember.  Anyway, after driving across a commando assault course to act onto the track the line up was: Rod Pashley, Neil Clarke, Simon Hiles and John Salter.

I thought that by starting from the back and running on slicks (what is lie like? - Ed.) I'd give everyone a chance.  Off we went on our rolling start for an eight lap race and by the time we had completed the warm up lap 1 was already struggling to keep up.  Rod Pashley thundered around in great style to take the flag with Simon Hiles in hot pursuit and Neil Clarke third.  Me?  Let's just say I was an honourable fourth.

The second race started with me determined not to get left on the warm up lap and as we turned into the bend to start the race my steering suddenly decided that it was not going to work any more.  So, from my lofty position perched high on an infield kerb I could see Rod Pashley once again romping away with it followed by Simon Hiles with Neil Clarke in third after a great spin on the far bend.  By now to say that we were a bit muddy would have been the understatement of the year.  Our cars were barely recognisable taking oil some weird form under the caked shale and mud mixture (all except Rod who had spent all of his time in front).  Then, just as we thought it couldn't possibly get any worse and we were preparing to go out for the last race, yes it happened, it started raining!  So after digging out the shale from my steering rack and getting my car to go round corners again we set out over the assault course to start our rolling lap for the last time (ever I hope!).

By now the track was more like a skating rink than a shale oval and after once again getting left behind on the warm up lap I had so many so many spins that to be honest I didn't have a clue what was happening in the race.  So after ending up perched on another kerb and feeling very giddy, I finally deduced that Rod had won with someone else in second.  So ended an extraordinary day and I would like to thank our loyal band of supporters (the Grindrods) for giving us so much encouragement throughout the day albeit from the warmth of the bar.  Special thanks to Karl for such nuggets of wisdom as: "You're going to get wet out there son" and "Bugger me.  Looks slippery don't it."

As a footnote we should thank the Proaressive 600 Association for lettine, us share their race day with them.  I wonder what we've ever done to upset them?!  Never mind, we'll get our own back one day.