Upper Middle Petrol Head:

What drives sensible people to do stupid things?  Some smoke, despite overwhelming evidence that it will probably make them prematurely dead.  Others drink and drive.  Then there are those who join religious cults,  think that tattoos of their kids' names done in joined-up writing look classy or  believe that McDonald's actually employ baristas. UMPH has tried to live a moderately intelligent life.  He stopped attempting to ride motorbikes years ago, more often than not drinks in moderation and has never once voted Liberal.  So what on this funny little planet possessed him to buy a Fiat and why did he think it was a good idea to detour down Tasmania's east coast on his way home from the Longford Revival?    It may have been the weather.  The Weber twins' sweet music might have seduced him, too, as he and his mate from the last two Huon Valley adventures turned left at Conara and headed east - that and the fact he couldn't face the Midlands Highway twice in

What could be more Gallic than two couples in their Peugeots touring local vineyards on the first day of Autumn?  Imagine, if you will, one driver's scarlet scarf trailing in the breeze as she pilots her chic convertible, roof down, through the lush green countryside in search of pinot noir and Chardonnay, closely followed by the tres elegant Mme S upérieure T ête de L'essence Moyenne ... .  Hold on a minute!  Whilst it is true that She of the Scarlet Scarf's fellow Peugeot driver is very stylish, there isn't a beret and stripey tee shirt wearing cyclist in sight - let alone one with onions draped over his handlebars - and both Pugs are driving on the wrong side of the road for France!  Just as well they're actually heading down to Tasmania's Huon Valley, thirty minutes south of Hobart! This week's expedition features She of the Scarlet Scarf, her friend who's a boy (but is not her boyfriend - AKA the former second best forensic photographer i

Curiously, UMPH is fond of bug-spatter.  For him, the sight of mangled insects festooning the front of a car speaks of country adventures ; it reminds him of night-time dashes along rural roads, moths having set their controls for the heart of the sun, dive-bombing and smashing themselves into The Galant's or Exxie's lights.  This latest episode may have been a day-time only affair but Tasmania's Midlands Highway, the main route between Hobart in the south and Launceston in the north, was thick with all manner of six-legged flying fauna.  It didn't take long to start an impressive insect collection on the business end of The Galant.  The otherwise unrelenting ennui of Tasmania's most boring road was thus punctuated by jets of soapy washer-spume as the variously yellow, white, clear, brown and red entrails of local arthropods were scoured from the The Galant's windscreen by its hard-working wipers. Turning left at Perth and beginning the westwar

And, besides which, the bloke who wrote it's quite happy to share his experiences of Galantism in this excellent post: That's Wine-Walking . U M P H ( uppermiddlepetrolhead.blogspot.com.au ).

1980 was, for various reasons, a very exciting year for UMPH, one being that he turned 17 and got his driver's licence.  It was also the year he nearly bought a green 1750 Alfa 105 from Dick Pou Motors on Hobart's eastern shore but ended up with an Escort van instead.    Wiser heads advised against the flashy Italian classic ;  Alfas were unreliable, they said.  So, too, were Fiats, knocking a white 124 AC from a dodgy car yard in New Town  out of contention.  However, it appears that the pundits had never experienced a mid 70s Escort because, if they had, UMPH's van would have been given the thumbs down, too!   The following year was, in automotive terms, much better.  Putting the Escort debacle behind him, long-term rally aspirant UMPH found himself a red 1975 Galant hardtop at Arnold Autos in Argyle Street, North Hobart, and soon outlaid the then princely sum of $3,800 .  It was to be a long relationship.     Two icons of Tasmanian transport Galant

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

Two distinct schools of thought exist at UMPH House.  The first holds that loud is good, louder is better and that exhaust and induction are at their best when combined to produce some form of raucous automotive rock concert.  School of Thought Number One also has it that there's hardly a single bit of a car that isn't somehow enhanced by being bigger or smaller, wider, squatter, stiffer, of greater wattage, lower profile, or otherwise different to that which was intended by said vehicle's original manufacturer. Mrs UMPH does not belong to that school of thought.  Not for her the throaty growl of a Weber or two ; no snarling or popping exhaust note when she lifts her elegantly clad foot from the accelerator.  Strangely, Mrs UMPH doesn't want to test her tyres' limits of cornering adhesion and seems perfectly happy with her compliant, plush even, suspension. No, Mrs UMPH has a grown-up's car: a Peugeot 206 CC and anything that she might be missing out on is p