HOLIDAY Road
THE day after Christmas in the centre of a suburban Adelaide car park, Andrew ‘Jaf’ Staples holds court amongst the sweet aroma of avgas. He’s here for Jaf’s Last Cruise (of the Year), and as he leans against the green metalflake flame job adorning his white Hudson sedan, he waxes philosophical about the cruise that bears his name. “It’s less of an event and more a bunch of mates getting together,” he says. “Well, thousands of mates getting together! We do liaise with the cops, but this thing almost can’t be stopped.” Tugging his lengthy goatee, he concludes: “So it’s better I do it. Otherwise a different mob might try and it all ends up on Today Tonight!”
Jaf’s Last Cruise (of the Year) had innocuous beginnings in the early 2000s. Back then Jaf was a young buck leaning on his car outside Hungry Jack’s on Anzac Highway, watching the hot cars cruise back and forth. “My mate Mick Bridges with the blue Centura told me we need to do our own cruise. And that I needed to organise it!” Jaf remembers. “So the next year I did. I sent 80 texts to some mates the day after Christmas. Three hundred cars showed up to the Kurralta Park Kmart – and were told in no uncertain terms never to come back!” he chuckles.
Since that first event, Jaf’s cruise has been called a couple of different names, including the Bored After Christmas Cruise, and most recently the Last Cruise (of the Year). Jaf had to add the brackets, as “I had to keep telling people it was the last possible cruise of the year, not the last cruise forever!
“I did it on Boxing Day a few times,” he continues, “then I didn’t, and people got upset, so now it’s just easier if we do it that day. There’s no shopping and I can guarantee I’ve got a day off.”
Since the advent of social media, the event has exploded. As we chat, nearly 2000 cars are spilling out of Tea Tree Plaza’s car park into Adelaide’s north-east suburbs. With the temperature on the asphalt bordering on cruel and the line at Macca’s out the door, snapper Troy and I depart ahead of the cruise, only to find that plenty of others have the same idea. Barrelling along the Port River Expressway, we’re surrounded by the sweet sounds of the street, the noise of my stock Buick four-banger overcome by smooth, whistling turbo sixes, stonking angry big-blocks and farty Mazda rotaries. It’s easy to forget amongst the muscle and magic that this isn’t some finely honed invitational; the people just run what they brung and hope they brung something cool!
Turning onto Lady Gowrie Drive, North Haven’s esplanade, we find plenty of cruisers
IT’S LESS OF AN EVENT AND MORE A BUNCH OF MATES GETTING TOGETHER
have peeled off the strip to park by the seaside, open a brew and watch the world go by. We do the same to watch classic Aussie, Yank, British, Japanese and even Italian steel (with holes) mix it up with the bodykits and blow-off valves. The parade is as impressive and varied as it is disorganised; some cruise through, others do a lap and cruise through again. Save for a few run sheets, an email to the police and a discussion with the two shopping centres, Jaf does precious little else in the way of organisation, and is keen to keep it that way.
From the shade of a towering Norfolk Island pine, we spy his flamed and familiar Hudson. We wave him down for another chat, and he explains his event preparation. “After each run, the police ask me if we had any trouble,”
he explains. “We tell them where it bottlenecked and they suggest an alternative route or police the area.
“As for event insurance, I’ve been a member of SMASA [Street Machine
Association of South Australia] for about 18 years and they now officially list it in their calendar. Although I may have forgotten to put them down as a sponsor on the cruise sheet!” he admits before exploding in raucous laughter.
That SMASA is willing to get on board is testament to its community-minded spirit; membership has grown five-fold in the past year off the back of SA’S new club rego rules, an initiative headed by SMASA’S Glenn Stankevicius, so it’s great that the association can give back for an event like Jaf’s cruise.
As the fiery sun sets over the ocean, we crank up the Buick and fat-arm towards the final rendezvous point at Marion Shopping Centre, a cooling breeze playing at our sweaty armpits. Catching up with Jaf for a final debrief, he slides up to partner Meegan for a photo. “This is the first time in years we’ve done the whole route,” he says. “It was mental to go through Outer Harbour and see how many cars were parked up under the pine trees there. I’ve not heard any reports of any dickhead behaviour or major dramas. A couple of blokes along the esplanade copped defects, but let’s face it, their cars were defectable!”
As Meegs hides her durry behind her back while Troy snaps a volley of pics, we all agree the event is a success. “At least we made it this year,” Jaf laughs. “A couple of years back the Huddy went home on a flatbed!”