STRUCK BY WHITE LINE FEVER
Shane’s second article for Drive, published 7 January 2011.
Many people collect objects, trinkets and things and receive joy from doing so for no reason other than owning many of something, be it stamps, spoons or even antique cameras, as my stepfather did.
I am guilty of the same habit. For me, it has been stickers, hats, DVDs and, more recently, cars – but one collection I started when I was 18 was a collection of licences. I started with the obligatory car licence, then motorbike, heavy rigid truck, bus, semitrailer, forklift, boom lift, scissor lift, jet-ski and boat. The water licences are just so that when I can afford the big boys’ floating toys, I can be the skipper.
As long as my small mind can remember, my family and I would jump in the car and spend every holiday or long weekend heading to a camping spot or caravan park. I always felt the journey was every bit as good as the destination. As I got older, my friends and I would find any excuse to drive. Once a year, we would drive to Adelaide to watch mates perform in shows and we spent many weekends heading bush to any destination where we could swim or light a fire.
Driving then became part of my working life. For two years, I was a travelling sales rep covering more than 1400 kilometres a week selling medication and false teeth for a dental-supply company. I also spent many weekends travelling country Victoria when I was a pyrotechnician doing firework displays, as well as comedy shows, amateur theatre performances and gigs with my band. I started picking destinations further away, driving trucks to Sydney and Brisbane and even took a camper van and a mate to Alice Springs, just to spend a few days there and drive back. I can honestly say I have driven most of Australia.
So, why was I doing all this? Because, I have to say it, I love driving. And I mean anything. Be it slow for a long while or fast for a little, I have always felt that any chance to hit the road in anything in any direction is as good as life can get. I’ve driven in many countries around the world as diverse as Ireland, Sweden, Switzerland, England, the US and Greece and the pleasure is just as good on either side of the road.
Many people argue that the problem with Australia is so much of it is covered in absolutely nothing but, for me, that’s the best part of it, the isolation. You really feel like you are, dare I say it, “hitting the open road”. Paul Hogan and I made a film called Charlie & Boots, a road-trip movie about a father and son travelling from the southern-most tip of Australia to the northern-most tip.
The only way to make the film was for us to actually travel with the crew on the road and it was the best news I had ever been given: me, Paul Hogan, a Kingswood, a highway as a studio and the Australian countryside as the backdrop. Does it get any better than that? I doubt it.
Being the host of Top Gear, I have had the chance to drive many a car quick but even before that I had my fair share. I have competed in many rallies, been in a touring car with Craig Lowndes, ripped around the Calder Park Thunderdome when I was involved with a NASCAR race team, not to mention getting to drive trucks around it for Kenny. I’ve taken two wheels around the Phillip Island race circuit and have even raced the formula one Australian Grand Prix circuit at Albert Park in the celebrity race, where I first got my racing licence.
But I have to say that being a passenger brings me nowhere near the joy. As a result, I tend to be perceived by others as the nice guy on trips when I say, “No, it’s fine, mate, you rest, I’ll keep driving.” If only they knew how selfish I am.
So, when I eventually retire, will I hook up the trailer or buy the Winnebago and do the grey nomad trip around Australia? You bet. It will give me a chance to start my crap souvenir collection.
