The winning co-driver, Graham Hoinville, wrote this in 2002 for the Southern Cross Rally Reunion booklet. It is reproduced here with permission.
The motor sporting journals of the day comprehensively covered our victory in the Cortina GT500. What was never recorded is the series of incidents which occurred during preparation and the actual event, any one of which could have caused us not to finish, let alone win the event. This is perhaps the occasion to tell the whole story. Motor sport has something in common with fishing. Fishermen are well known for their stories of “The one that got away.” In motor sport we regularly hear how “We would have won the event if only …” In the 1966 event we reversed this scene, as there were numerous setbacks, all of which we overcame and, in spite of which, we were to claim victory. So here is the story in detail.
The car we were to use was one of the ‘100+’ Cortina GT500 models that Harry has ‘remanufactured’ for Ford and had dominated the 1965 Armstrong 500 at Bathurst. The car was actually the ‘press test’ car which had been on loan to journalists for road test purposes. The gearbox ratios were based on the 2.5 first gear setup from the Lotus Cortina – which we feared would be too high if the fully loaded rally car faced difficult muddy going. We substituted the Escort Twincam gears (nominal #:1 first gear). In planning our strategy prior to the event our main concern was one Barry Ferguson. Barry was a very competent driver of VWs and was rumoured to be preparing a VW of some 2 litres capacity using components from VW industrial engines. Additionally BMS was rumoured to be bringing from Europe Cooper S1275 cars to be driven by names such as Paddy Hopkirk, Rauno Aaltonen and Tony Fall. Harry concluded we needed more engine capacity.
Overboring the 1500cc Kent engine was common practice but about 1650cc was the limit; we wanted more. Harry had experimented with a ‘stroked’ crankshaft which had given encouraging results. Back in MG TC days he had developed the technique of building up the crankpins by metal spraying, then re-grinding the crank with increased stroke. Through Ford channels we learned there were plans to redesign the Kent engine (into the crossflow form) and included was increasing the stroke from 72.75mm to 77.6mm to give 1600cc. Les Powell of Ford was pressed to secure one of the new cranks for us. The answer was negative – the new engine would not be in production early enough for the crank to be obtained prior to the event.
Harry decided we would go up in bore size – to 88mm if possible. The achieve this the cylinders in the block would be removed by boring, and large ‘wet’ sleeves welded into the block. The work was entrusted to an outside firm.
The project was further complicated by Harry being invited by Allan Moffatt to co-drive the Lotus Cortina in a long-distance touring car race in the USA. Harry departed the country leaving the project in the hands of his brother Norman at the H & N Firth establishment at 35 Queens Avenue, Auburn. Norm phoned me to report that the block had been completed, but under the pressure test “It leaked like a sieve”. After a hasty conference we decided a new block would be obtained, bored to 85mm and we would fit the home-made ‘stroked’ crank. The new engine was built, fitted and I was given the car to do some miles and check it out. The car felt very strong.
On Harry’s return from the USA he was acquainted with the circumstances. He seemed rather ‘miffed’ at the engine build, but had no option as he was about to leave for the Gallagher 500 at Bathurst. He shared a Cooper 1275S with Ern Abbott – it was the year the regulations were changed to virtually eliminate the Cortina GT from any chance of success.
Harry’s plan was the run in the GT500 by driving it to Bathurst, then on to Sydney after the race. I did not go to Bathurst, planning to fly to Sydney on the Tuesday after Bathurst with the rally starting that week. On the drive down to Sydney Harry was having a friendly ‘dice’ with another enthusiast (actually Max Stahl, editor of “Racing Car News”) when the Cortina went onto three cylinders. He stopped at a garage near Liverpool, removed the head and found a piston crown melted. The pistons were from forgings intended for the Repco-Brabham V8. To get the right compression height the crown had been machined until they were just a little too thin. Harry asked the friendly garage proprietor could he suggest a competent welder of aluminium. Nearby was Bankstown Airport and of course, De Havilands.
Not only did they repair the damaged piston, but reinforced by welding, the weak crown areas on the other three pistons. Harry re-assembled the motor and proceeded to the team motel in Sydney. When I flew in I was told the story. We were ready for the rally – or were we?
Our plan was not to lead from the outset, but to keep within range of the leaders. We would make our bid in the latter half – by which time some of the contenders would be out due to mechanical problems or driver error. We had used that strategy in the 1964 Ampol and it worked admirably.
Stage one went without incident – we were around tenth. On Stage two we struck a minor problem. One tube of the exhaust manifold broke about an inch from the cylinder head flange. There was nothing that would catch fire from the escaping exhaust gases, but the noise was frightful. At 1500 rpm the noice suggested an engine speed of 6000 rpm. It was like a Manx Norton exhaust note compared with that of an Italian 4-cylinder. Bethanga came up – a little town in the isthmus formed by Hume Weir. The local garage proprietor made his oxy gear available to us. I was holding the broken pieces together while Harry welded. I looked down to see we were standing in water – then I realised it was petrol! The torch was instantly turned off. Les Powell and helpers had been refuelling the car at the rear and they had a spill – the old garage floor sloped towards where we were working. The car was pushed to a safe spot and the repair completed.
I must report on what became known as the “Bethanga Stampede”. Bob Taylor manned a control in the centre of town. There were for special stages each starting and finishing with Bob – in a cloverleaf pattern. (Actually three loop stages, plus the incoming stage from Talgarno). The town turned out in force – coloured lights decorated the street, the resident policeman was away on leave and the stage was set for action.
Neither before nor since has Bethanga been the scene of such action!
Over the four stages we did well – Aaltonen’s Cooper was fastest, we were 15 seconds behind. We had started our climb to the front.
Next was an easy run in Albury for a meal break. As we crossed the Bethanga Bridge (a typical country bridge with planks laid across the bridge with the result that the car generates a noise like a giant xylophone) we lost one cylinder. We drove on and ate in silence – Harry and I both thinking it was our patched pistons that were failing or was it our home-made crankshaft?
The rest of the stage was down to Melbourne via the Alps. Before starting in earnest we were able to check the motor by removing the rocker cover. We fund our problem – a valve in one cylinder was not opening. Obviously we had lost a lobe off the camshaft or we had broken a cam-follower. We neutralised the cylinder by removing the pushrods and plug lead, and pressed on. The performance of the car was appalling. I remember a heart-stopping run to Dandongadale – Harry hurled the car into corners at suicidal speeds because we simply had to keep the speed up – acceleration was so poor. We slid into Dandongadale (actually Whitfield) with seconds to spare – I said to Harry “I am going to check under the bonnet”. I found not one, but two plug leads disconnected. Back on three cylinders the car felt like a Ferrari. The remainder of the stage proved uneventful except for a minor “off” near Mt Donna Buang – the left guard and headlight suffered damage. From Warburton we made an early morning phone call to Norm Firth briefing him on the rapid engine rebuild that would take place at the workshop that afternoon.
The Melbourne control was at a BP service station in Church Street just up from the Hawthorn Bridge. That station has long since been replaced by ‘modern development’. Time allowed was generous so we prepared our engine removal by removing three of the six bell housing bolts and two of the four bolts retaining each of the radiator and bonnet. From check-in we were allowed one hour service before being due at impound at Olympic Park.
After a lightning trip through the back streets of Hawthorn we drove into the workshop at Queens Avenue and the crew were ready. Those who know the Kent engine are aware to change the cam followers you have to remove the camshaft – a major dismantling job. A new camshaft and followers were there, plus new sump and timing cover with gaskets already cemented on to save time. Our fellow rally driver Dough Hughes who ran a body works in Murrumbeena had turned up – with the engine out he moved in to straighten the left front guard and fit a new headlight, without cosmetic niceties of course. My great friend John Pryce (Motor Racing Manager of BP) was there to time the operation. We drove out 42 minutes after we arrived.
As we headed towards the city in Burwood Road we had just under 15 minutes to reach Olympic Park and we were travelling opposite to the peak hour traffic. All went well until we reached the famous ‘bottleneck’ in the narrow part of Bridge Road. There the traffic choked up. Most people in motor sport know Harry Firth as a man of few words with a rather deep gruff voice. Having spent many hours in the same car with him I know another side – at times of real crisis that voice can go up an octave or two or more. As we crept past Lennox Street steam came from under the bonnet. Upon seeing the traffic solid to Punt Road the Firth voice went an octave or two “We must have a loose radiator hose”. I shouted “turn left” – we were in a little cobblestone lane – Verity Street. I had local knowledge; my good friend Morrie Monk (the founding President of CAMS) had his engineering business at the bottom of Verity Street. I knew there was another little land which led through to Punt Road. We burst onto Punt Road, down to Swan Street and checked in at impound with seconds to spare. The Cortina was steaming like an overheated pressure cooker. We pushed it into its parking spot and retired for some rest.
The next stage was Melbourne to Canberra via Gippsland and the Alps. Out of the city to Packenham there was generous time. As we drove out the south gate of Olympic Parl the Firth van was there with Ian Tate and Matthew Philip on board. They spent ten minutes checking the engine over – the loose radiator hose was tightened, water replaced and we were away, with added confidence. The run through Gippsland had some testing sections which took points off everyone, and we started to work our way up the leader board. From Cooma to Canberra were several very challenging sections and we started our charge. By Canberra we were two points behind Ferguson, with our team Cortinas of Vaughan and Kilfoyle close to us.
For the final stage – Canberra to Sydney – Bob Selby-Wood had stated the pressure would really be on. We increased our determination. The pot certainly was well and truly stirred on that stage/ The imported BMS cars were all having mechanical problems, while of the locals, Evan Green also had mechanical problem and Bob Holden crashed. Barry Ferguson had an “off” and hit a tree. Actually the recorded times show we had moved into the lead before Barry’s crash. Nearest to us was Greg Garard some 25 points behind, whilst our other team members had dropped back a couple of places. Victory was in sight, but there was another crisis to come! The engine was starting to use considerable oil. It was fitted with twin DCOE Webers. They had trumpets, but no air cleaners. The first two stages had been particularly dusty and obviously the piston rings had suffered. We carried spare oil of course but as we approached Kangaroo Valley we had used all our oil and on bends the pressure gauge indicated the sump was low. In the grey light of early dawn I scanned the paddocks for a tractor. I figured the temporary removal of a sump plug could provide us with oil – even if it was rather second hand.
A solution appeared – in the form of a control. The smiling face of the official was familiar to us – from other Selby-Wood events we had run in. He certainly could be described as a “battler”. As usual, he was accompanied by his wife and two or three toddlers, in a rather dilapidated car – an early Morris Oxford if I recall. As we checked in I asked the question “Would you have any oil to spare?” His face fell as he muttered “I use re-refined oil; you would not use that would you?” Here was his big chance to help the leading crew in a top factory team and he had ‘blown it’ by not having what they needed. I cannot recall what my comment was, but with one hand I thrust money into his and with the other hand sieved a gallon tin of oil. We topped up the sump, and were on our way. The rest of the story is history, well recorded in the journals of the day.
I have chronicled this later incident not just because this individual made a vital contribution to our victory, but because he is representative of the hundreds of volunteer officials supporting motor sport. All love the sport but many do not have the means to be competitors, so taking on officials’ jobs is there was of enjoying the sport. Without them motor sport as we know it could not exist.
To this day I do not know the name of this particular official. Perhaps he will attend the reunion, read this, and make himself known. After 36 years we will be able to put a name to the one who helped us in this incident.
