This is an old poem I found in a 1970 club magazine (Goblins' Gazette,
magazine of the Austin Healey Sprite Drivers' Club
http://yallara.cgl.rmit.edu.au/~mg/cars/ahsdc.htm ). The author is unknown
and the poem was previously published (prior to GG that is) in
the NSW Sprite Club's newsletter Sprite Torque.
It seems magnificent timing given the upcoming Healey International
Commemorative Race at Bathurst in a few weeks time. Maybe I should
add a Nitro kit to my bugeye! The poem is at the end of this message.
BTW, Redcar and I participated in the annual Sprite vs Mini "A Series
Challenge", held at Morwell Hillclimb over the last weekend. The event is
composed of two parts - a regularity trial and a speed event. The aim of the
regularity trial is to do 3 runs as close as possible in time. The speed
event
is simply your fastest timed run. You are awarded points based on your
finishing position (1 point for 1st) and the lowest aggregate wins. the 4
best
individuals for each club (AHSDC, Victorian Mini Club Inc) comprise the
teams. the lowest team score wins.
The result: AHSDC 47, VMCI 52 - Sprite win! Redcar and I took out overall
first place. There were 21 minis and only 8 Sprites but we still kicked
their
FWD butts!
Mike
------------
The Little Healey Sprite
She was balanced, she was "ported",
and She sported twin SUs,
The brakes were big and hairy,
With Ferodo on the shoes,
The tank was full of Nitro,
And the paint was shiny white,
She really looked a picture,
My Little Healey Sprite.
I entered her for Bathurst,
All the aces they were there,
Brabham, Hill and Gurney
and the guy who’s lost his hair,
His face it looks familiar
For his name I’m at a loss,
Now I remember,
His name was Stirling Moss.
We lined up on the starting grid,
The crowd was tense and hushed,
Starting man he dropped the flag,
We took off in a rush,
We laid the rubber on the road,
And through the drifting smoke,
Came a noise as loud as thunder,
When the mighty engines spoke.
Sprinting for Hell Corner,
With the counter showing nine,
Drivers were all fighting hard,
To get their cars on line.
Well Brabham won the corner,
And Moss was next in sight,
And snapping at their very heels,
Was the Little Healey Sprite.
Slipping quickly through the cogs,
We dashed up Mountain Straight,
Can the tortured engines
Stand the frantic rate?
I ripped back one and flattened her
With ten grand on the clock
She leaped forward like a rocket
When I pulled out all the chocks.
Moss set himself for Energol,
And picked a line real tight,
Then straight up underneath him,
Shot the Little Healey Sprite.
We scampered up the cutting
And swept round Griffons Mount
I won about four seconds
While the tacho lost the count.
I closed right up on Brabham,
I could hear the Brabham bark,
I let the Healey have her head,
and pushed him through Reid Park.
When we took him on Mt Phillamey
His face was chalky white,
And full chat over Skyline went
The Little Healey Sprite.
In motor racing circles,
They talk about it still,
Of the time the unknown driver
Did "Mossy" up "The Hill"
Took Brabham on the mountain,
With Victory in sight,
Then disappeared for ever in
The Little Healey Sprite.
To clear up all the mystery,
Of where the Sprite got to,
I’ll give a very useful tip
To each and all of you.
When you’re going very hard,
Though everything seems fine
You’ve got to knock it off a bit
When you’re going up to Skyline.
And if you’re glancing skywards
On a clear and cloudless night,
And way up in the heavens
You can see a streak of light.
It’s not a flying saucer
Or a Russian satellite
It’s only me in orbit
In the Little Healey Sprite.
(Reprinted from GG Vol III No 5, May/Jone 1970, from an issue of "Sprite
Torque". Author unknown)
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