Sydney Dragway
9:44pm
A few hours ago, I was saying the last rites to the roof of my mouth as I bit through a meat pie. Now I’m in a lose-lose drag race. To my left, Alf Sciacca’s 2,000bhp Lamborghini-bodied drag car and an engine so imposing it could swallow a small child. SRT’s launch control activated, the Jeep’s 400mm Brembo stoppers are trying its best to restrain the SUV as I mash both pedals at the same time. As Alf revs up, I tear up. Not because I know I’m going to lose, but because his race fuel is seeping through the Jeep’s air vents. Luckily, mother nature saves my embarrassment as before the Christmas tree lights go out, rain stops play. Phew.
Even so, every Wednesday night Sydney Motorsport Park hosts the most eclectic grassroots drag and burnout event I’ve ever seen. Week in, week out, hundreds of cars rock up, including everyone we’ve met today. Every kind of car imaginable is here; euro, muscle, JDM, race cars, old, new. There’s also a refreshing youth community, and it’s somewhat agnostic as the sticky tarmac is where everyone comes – boy or girl – to flex their egos, fight for valour, release their stress and get away from the anxiety of the obsessive nanny state they keep banging on about.
With the death of the car industry, you’d think that Australia would be in some maudlin no man’s land. And yes, people are angry and upset. But it’s edifying and inspiring to see such passion when it comes to cars. It’s old-school, raw and flowing down to the next generation. There’s also something quite romantically punk about the whole thing. Australian cars may be gone, but they’re definitely not forgotten.