A beast lurks on Hobart's urban fringe, its lair a nondescript fibro garage. It lies dormant within, waiting for its master to bring it to rumbling, snarling life with a turn of his key, sending 98 RON petrol surging through its massive four barrel Holley 725 CFM carb, burning fiercely in its eight cylinders and out via twin exhausts that you feel as much as hear. The beast has a name: De Tomaso Pantera (aka the Panty-Tearer) and it looks as menacing today as when it was built in 1974.
UMPH likes to think that The Master's need for a mid-engined Italian classic was born during a quickish run from Lower Longley, around the side of Mt Wellington and through to Ferntree in the X1/9. That and the Master's love of American iron in the form of big V8s, as had been fitted to his previous ride, a 50s Cadillac coupe`.
What a way to combine those two influences: a sexy, low-slung Italian body fitted wrapped around a stonking great 351 Ford V8. Italy meets MoTown in a big win-win!
And so it was that last Sunday, The Master, his artist wife, Mr and Mrs UMPH and three motorcycles headed off for some fun roads, a bit of landscape painting and lunch at Strathgordon on the shores of Lake Pedder in Tasmania's Central Highlands. Of course, a trip of that distance - approximately 300 k return from Hobart - required a fuel stop, meaning that a few of the New Norfolk locals got a good eyeful of some very tasty Italian metal, not that anyone noticed the Fiat!
From New Norfolk, the convoy made its sedate way up the Bushy Park side of the meandering River Derwent, following its sinuous curves up and down some gentle rises along reasonable condition black-top with farms, oast-houses and hop-fields making for a very picturesque view. A left turn at Westerway saw the cars and bikes leave the Derwent in their rear-view mirrors and most of the traffic gradually fall away, allowing a few short, sharp tasters of things to come.
Things to come came after the forestry town of Maydena - now an 'adventure hub', whatever that means - and took the form of some long, sweeping curves, some tighter, twistier bends and a few up-hill sections that saw the Panty surging ahead until, eventually, it was lost from view completely. It was only when the Fiat finally crested the last big hill approaching the contentious Florentine area, the scene of some not so distant anti-forestry actions, that the Panty was seen again. There it was, parked against a stunning backdrop of button grass plains and mountains behind with The Artist knocking up a quick water colour!
The bikes and the Fiat left the Panty's occupants to their artistic endeavours for the final thrust along the edge of Lake Pedder, with the latter taking advantage of the riders' photo-stop to take the lead for an unfettered run into the Strathgordon Lodge. It was all eyes on the road but, even then, it was hard not to take in the view by osmosis as it assailed the car from every angle.
It wasn't too long before all parties arrived at the Lodge, having built up a fairly big appetite along the way. The sole on-duty staff member may have been outnumbered but she wasn't phased by the arrival of a group that quadrupled the remaining lunch-time clientele in a single wave. She simply announced that we had missed the end of the regular lunch service, that she was out of steak and almost everything else on the menu, and invited us to tell her what we thought we might like to eat. A few quick decisions and we were soon feasting on fish and chips, scrambled eggs and hamburgers that put many more fancied 'burger joints to shame!
Appetites sated, the entire group, plus two big BMW touring bikes, the riders of which had been finishing their lunches as we started ours, all headed back for Hobart as a long, snaking conga line of fun. The timing was perfect; the road was all ours and we enjoyed it the whole way back to Westerway, even if the Beemers eventually broke away and headed off into the distance.
A quick stop at the Westerway Raspberry Farm for some fresh local fruits was followed by a more leisurely run down the Gretna side of the Derwent and, with some regrets (time was running out), past the Two Metre Tall Farm Bar, and home to Hobart. A satisfying day all round! Thanks to Mrs UMPH, The Master, The Artist, and bikers Mr and Mrs Exterminator, Marty and Chris (?), plus the Beemer boys Winnie and his mate (whose name escapes me, I'm afraid).
U M P H
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