Yep, remember Auto chick" very well.
The BP at Gaven became a popular spot too, as we would race on highway.
Many a dollar was earned doing a little street racing.
Geez, there was one night, we were leaving around 1 or 2 in the morning and unbeknown to us, ol mate coming home from the bowls club has run wide on a corner and gone up the footpath and wedged a small tree into an old escort ( a car not a hooker)
We've taken off from the lights about 400 metres back down the road.
With 250 HP of nitrous flowing through the ol 302, we went 6,500 in low, 6,500 in second, punched top gear and we are flying along now, 6,500 rpm and the windsor is howling.
As we arrive on the small bingle, the old bloke in his bowls outfit is struggling to stand, the towtruck driver has a grin like a split water melon and officer dibble is about to crap himself.
For a split second, we thought he was gunna pull his gun.
He ran for the car but went to the left door. We knew the radio was quicker than a Datsun, V8 or not.
The mate just said...... DON'T LIFT
We got a few K's up the road and stuck the thing is a side street and went looking for a coffeee shop.
Hours later, we very carefully drove home.
YEAH YEAH YEAH, i know it was wrong and we shouldn't be playing up like second hand lawnmower, but stuff me sideways....
IT WAS FUN.