Last week the dream finally died. Mike, my old neighbour had offered his ’68 Austin 1800 for the rally and had got it to the point that we were ready to take it for a spin around the neighbourhood to see how it performed.

On the face of it, there’s something to be said for taking the world famous Mini’s big brother for a 5000km trip from Sydney to Darwin, a sense of doing the rally in the style befitting such an enterprise. Add to this Mike’s desire to give the old girl one last hurrah, and no doubt his wife’s desire to have some garage space back, and you would be forgiven for thinking there is some element of destiny at play.

We took it for a first spin around the block, choke out all the way to prevent bunny-hopping. Mike muttered something about muck in the fuel line and to give credit where it’s due, the old girl settled down pretty well after the first 500m. Now your old 1800 is not the same kind of drive as your modern car. There are certain niceties to be observed when attempting a gear change. The idea of power steering in the era of the 1800 is still a future dream, like something out of the Jetsons, so you feel the weight of the car. The same for braking too… you know you have well over a ton of welded steel moving at 40kph when you try to halt it.

All that said, I was getting a feel for the beast, recalling the Austin Princess I learned to drive in. I moved into 3rd gear up a slight hill and opened up the throttle.. and for one moment it looked like a goer. Then the universal joint disintegrated on the left wheel side and we ignominiously came to a halt by the kerb. Mike nursed it back home and we stood at the front of it, silent for a little while before I said “that’s buggered it” and let it go: the 1800’s destiny lies elsewhere.

So now I’m looking at early 90’s Toyota Corollas on eBay. It’s not the same, granted, but an outback mechanic is a lot more likely to have parts for a Toyota. Sometimes it’s not how you play the game but whether you win or lose that counts.