In the 1970s a Datsun 1600 SSS was a desirable car, one that
was not readily available in Australia. Things were different in Malaysia, and
having the use of one for a day or two was not to be knocked back.
For a 12 month period in 1972-73 I was Vice President of the
RAAF Butterworth Motor Club (RBMC). During that time the club was involved in
organising a major motor rally – although I can’t remember what it was. Curly
Knight told me recently that the RBMC organised the North Malaysia Rally and it
may have been that.
The local Datsun dealer was one
of the sponsors – if not the major one. In that capacity it supplied the club
with a SSS to help with the route survey. Now I don’t know how I came to be
involved with the survey as I was into bikes at the time but I was entrusted
with the keys to the Datsun. Perhaps, as club Vice President I was judged to be
one of the more responsible members.
And so it came to pass that one
morning bright and early four of us set off in the SSS to survey a part of the
route. This took us through a rubber plantation somewhere south of Butterworth.
Gravel roads, no traffic, a hot car and three mates to show off to. For a young
hoon – did I suggest I was one of the more responsible RBMC members - this was
pretty close to heaven.
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| The 1600 I bought when I returned home in April 1974 |
Zeke Behm is the only one of my
passengers I can remember. Zeke was a couple of years younger than me and
obviously somewhat sillier. I remember an earlier occasion when I had hired a Colt
Gallant for the weekend. These were pretty good little performers in their day
and Zeke and I decided to take it for a spin around Penang Island. This was late at night after I had been
enjoying Zeke’s hospitality at a party he and his housemates threw out Hillside
way.
The road from Hillside to Batu
Ferringgi was narrow, windy, potholed and hilly. It afforded a great opportunity
to demonstrate my driving skills to Zeke and he was obviously impressed. ‘You’re
a great driver, Ken’ he would exclaim as I dropped it down a cog or two, lined
up another corner and threw it into another drift. ‘The best driver I’ve been
with’. And we continued on this vein until I looked at the fuel gauge. This was
a most sobering moment as I realised there was no way I would get around the
Island and that I would be lucky to get back to Hillside if I turned around
then and there. So I did the smartest thing I had done all evening – turned around
a drove quietly back to Zeke’s place in order to save as much petrol as I
could. We made it.
Next morning I thought about what
we had done and it really scared me – and it does to this day when I think
about it. But not Zeke – at least at the time. He still raved about my skills
behind the wheel for months.
Now here I was again with Zeke in
the front left-hand seat. And as I lined up the corners, dropped down a cog or
two and applied power and a bit of opposite lock as we drifted through one
corner after another, Zeke again was complimenting me on my driving skills. This
was how a Saturday afternoon was meant to be lived.
Now I know what you are thinking,
that with all this encouragement I continued to try harder until … But you’re
wrong – although the more my ego was stoked the harder I may have tried. But
for some reason I had slowed to a crawl – no more than 15 to 20 miles per hour.
Nothing hoonish at all. And then it happened. It was a gentle corner, the road
was grassed and, as I was about to find out, quite slippery. The back slid out,
up a slight bank and we ended up on the roof. Although the passengers in the
back didn’t have seat belts no one was injured – perhaps except for a bruise or
two.
Now we had a bit of a dilemma.
Here we were in a rubber plantation with a sponsor’s car on its roof and no
mobile telephone. Now I can’t remember how it happened but it didn’t take long
before the plantation manager appeared on the scene with his tractor. With his
help it didn’t take long to get the car back on its wheels.
We assessed the damage and found
the car was driveable. Now I may be wrong on this but I have a recollection of
throwing the windscreen into the boot. We did have a slight leak in the
radiator and we did have to stop a few times to top it up. Don’t ask me if we
had enough water with us or had to scrounge some on the way home. And I can’t
remember the reception when the car was returned to the sponsor so maybe
someone else in the club had that responsibility.
Planning for the rally continued
and it was finally conducted successfully. I have limited recollection of the
event itself other than being in a rubber plantation at night manning a
checkpoint. I remember the fire flies. And I remember the Saabs.
These Swedish beasts were
different. They were three cylinder 841 cc two strokes with a distinctive
scream that warned us well in advance of their arrival – and then there was the
two-stroke exhaust haze that hung in the air after they passed.
On my return to Australia I
bought a second hand 1600. I drove it from Richmond to Brisbane accompanied by
Ken Simpson and B.J Boyton to attend Zeke and Angel’s wedding shortly after
Zeke returned from Butterworth. I had the honour of being their best man. The
1600 was a good, fun car to drive, but not as good as the SSS. But at least for
the time it was mine it remained right side up.
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