The Undead Car Club

Could be worth a look. 



Picnic at Hanging Rock (for the Undead at least) kicked off at 8.00am as I was taking in the chill early morning ambience of the main street of Woodend, which no joke was pretty nice.  Out of the procession of various classics through the town came Cam and Kayla in the Datsun, Andrew in his Red Alpha – and a couple of his mates in a gleaming black Daimler.  My white Charger (not a horse) made its first club appearance.  Our tardy President and inimitable First Lady presently appeared – swinging the requisite bottle of transmission fluid that his Pontiac drinks at a rate akin to Bob Hawke with a yard glass at an AWU barbeque.

 

The convoy headed up the hill and joined the throng – and what a throng it was.  Who knows whether the 2500 vehicle target was reached – we can personally verify there was a dead set shitload of cars.  They were everywhere.  It was like the opposite of when the Griswold’s turn up at WallyWorld.

 

We set up like many others to watch the procession and joined with the oohs and ahs as every shape and size rolled in.  With this volume of cars it was terrifically apparent that different people love different things (although we at the Undead can surely understand this).  From the sublime to the ridiculous, there were 7 litre engines, 7 litre fuel tanks and 7 seaters.  There was a GT Falcon that idled so ferociously it looked it wasn’t going to stay on the ground (nice); a truck with a giant mural of Princess Diana on it (not nice); there was even a goggo mobile.  And contrary to the advert – this one WAS the Dart.  

 

In amongst these classics and the predictable throngs of mustangs, monaros, toranas, corvettes etc etc, we were collectively a bit despairing in the acknowledgement that something made in 1989 was now 25 years old – which meant (groan) EA Falcons and VN Commodores are now considered ‘classic’.   Honestly, if one of these is your pride and joy then a least make it 2000hp, or amphibious, (or both – and enter it in the Southern 80 which is on the same weekend so you can’t come to Hanging Rock).  There is no accounting for taste.   

 

We split up to focus on our own particular favourites amongst the bazillion cars.  Briggsy sought out the muscle, Nat sought out the bugs, I sought out Captain Calamari.  Everyone sought out some shade.  The day quickly got progressively hotter, and one by one we petered out like the rest of the crowd as the sun was highest.  Does anyone’s airconditioning work?

 

In the end it’s a pretty good (and massive) show and especially so if you like diversity.  The four plus one cars representing the Undead were certainly not disgraced.  The more Zombies the merrier next year. 

– Ben