An Australian Adventure, Part II

  Prologue: In late February of 1988 NASCAR sanctioned what amounted to an exhibition race in Australia at a sparkling new speedway near Melbourne, The Thunderdome.  It held the potential of being a great  adventure for those lucky enough to be going, including me.  The trip proved more than equal to the promise.  Over the next few days "Scuffs" will recount some of the stories from two decades ago, including a heart-warming triumph by the late Neil Bonnett. 

   Sixteen hours after arriving in Australia and then getting a bit of rest, my pal and fellow journalist Steve Waid and I headed to the track for a first look.
   We were anxious to see the facility built by Aussie Bob Jane, a wealthy Goodyear tire distributor who had visited Charlotte Motor Speedway many times to get ideas for creating his own major auto racing layout Down Under.
   "Boy," I said to Steve, "this must be something like the press guys felt back in 1950 when they went to Darlington Raceway in South Carolina for the first time.  No one knew what to expect."
   Flags were flying and an aura of excitement abounded as we arrived at Calder Park, scene of the speedway a few miles from Melbourne.

    A friendly police officer directed us to a building where we could sign for our press credentials.  And from there we were sent to a parking lot reserved for competitors, the media and special guests. Shuttle buses were to take us to the garage area and infield press center.
   The bus driver sweetly welcomed us on board, her accent exceedingly charming.  Our jaws dropped.  The young woman could have competed for Miss Australia.  AND WON!
   She commented on liking our Southern drawls and asked me three or four times to say 'Y'all" for her.  I readily obliged, much to her smiling amusement.
   We continued gushing about her as we walked into the infield media center, which Bob Jane had hired Tom Cotter of  Charlotte Motor Speedway and his pal, Charlie Rabb of little Derby, N.C., to oversee during race week.
   "All the shuttle bus drivers are beautiful!" declared Rabb.   "They look like movie stars.
   "And guess what!?  The driver who brought you boys in told me this morning that all of them are getting together one night this week to take part in a nipple tournament!
   "See if you can get us invited!"
   Steve and I assured Charlie he could count on that.
   But first it was time to do some work.
   We found that the  entry list for the Goodyear 500K included Americans Bobby Allison, Neil Bonnett, Dave Marcis, Michael Waltrip, Kyle Petty, James Hylton and D.K. Ulrich from NASCAR's Winston Cup Series.  Among several other Yanks participating were Chad Little, Bill Venturini, Hershel McGriff and Ron Esau.
   Their cars had been shipped to Australia in big containers, leaving weeks earlier.
   The racing surface was layed out like Charlotte Motor Speedway, now known as Lowe's Motor Speedway.  However, The Thunderdome measured a bit shorter, 1.15 miles to 1.5.
   "It's an eye-catching place, no doubt about that," said Bonnett, who came to Australia as NASCAR's most recent winner, having taken the Pontiac Excitement 400 at Richmond Raceway the previous Sunday with his Rahmoc team.  "It's out here in the country among big cattle and sheep ranches.
   "As pretty as the place is, Turns 3 and 4 are so tight it's basically going to be a one-lane deal, a lot like the corners at Darlington.  Going through 3 and 4 it's going to be like funneling off an interstate highway onto a one-lane road."
   Bonnett solved the tricky turns to pace first-round qualifying with a lap of 141.066 mph in a Pontiac.  Allison was next in a Buick at 138.841.
   By mid-afternoon action was tapering off at the track.  Steve and I hustled to finish our stories and join others in doing some sight-seeing.
   We especially wanted to go to Melbourne Harbor, which, according to Petty and Waltrip, offered some fantastic scenery.  It was, or so they said, a topless beach.
   I asked one of the Aussie reporters for directions.
   "Ahh," he said with a smile and distinctive accent.  "Ya mates are goin' down to see the White Pointers, eh?"
   I was non-plussed, and it showed.
   "White pointers?  You mean sharks?"
   The guy bellowed.
   "No, mate," he said, cupping his hands at his bosom and jiggling them.  "White pointers!"
   I got it, reddened, and joined him in laughing.
   He gave me and my "mates" the directions we wanted.
   Steve and I boarded the shuttle bus for a ride back to the parking lot. The same Aussie beauty was at the wheel that had driven us into the infield a few hours earlier.  "Say 'Y'all' again for me, Tom," she said with a grin.
   "Only if you tell me about your nipple tournament," I replied.
   "WHAT?!" she said, eyes flashing.
   "The nipple tournament."
   "Whatever are you talking about!?"
   "Charlie Rabb said you and your friends are having a nipple tournament and he wants to know if we can attend."
   The young worman burst into gales of laughter.
   "That crazy Charlie Rabb!" she said.  "He's had trouble understanding us all week.  It's a NETBALL tournament!  Netball!"
   The women were going to play volleyball.
   "I'm gonna kill Charlie Rabb," I told Steve.
   Back at Old Melbourne Hotel we were met by Bill Broderick, UNOCAL's colorful "cap man," noted for his Victory Lane flamboyance back in the States.  Bill had rented a van and was driving a group of us to Melbourne Harbor.
   It proved to be everything that Petty and Waltrip had claimed.
   Immigrating to Australia crossed my mind.

   Next: Not Everyone Is Charmed To Have Us..