Journey From Sydney to Melbourne to Tasmania in a Classic Jaguar
Many years back I worked as a jackaroo, which would require no explanation in Australia, but in case you don’t know, that’s a young bloke who is working on a sheep or cattle station (farm) to gain practical experience to become a property owner, overseer or manager. The female equivalent is a jillaroo.
The closest town was 45 minutes away and Friday meant payday. Then, being a single bloke in possession of a good fortune, town was the place to be. I was driving a four-fifths worn Mini Cooper at the time, but it got us to where we wanted to be, and back again. It was during this time that I learned something crucial to driving on our roads—the Australian wave.
You could have called the way into town a road; however it was more like a track, a deeply rutted track, and heaven forbid if someone came the other way. No way would a Mini and a Holden Ute (Aussie for pick-up truck) fit next to each other. Nevertheless, you would always give the other driver a wave, as it was and still is the custom.
If you didn’t know the person in the other car, the wave would consist only of the raising of the right index or forefinger without the rest of your hand leaving the steering wheel. If you did know them, all four fingers would be raised while the palm of the hand and thumb would remain on the wheel. Now, if it happened to be that pretty girl that you had met at the pub the previous Friday night, you would raise your whole hand and how you would move your hand would depend on how much you wanted to impress. The ultimate wave would be to open the driver’s window, raise your right arm to the sky and with the palm open, wave vigorously.
Fast forward a decade or three and the Australian bush is long behind me, but I was still driving a Mini Cooper, which by then I had gone upmarket so it was only three-fifths worn! It was a daily driver and I would frequently pass a bloke going the other way in a MG Magnette sedan. I would always raise my index finger, but never received anything in return. Sad! As I always wave to the drivers of older cars, no matter what the car’s country of origin. Still do!
Then one day I had to drive our Jaguar Mk2 and along came the MG. I raised my right index finger and received, in return, a waving of his whole hand. I knew that I had not met him in the pub, but it made me think that there must be a further sub-culture when it came to waving. Is there a pecking order when it comes to classic cars? Did he see that driving a MG made him a step above that of a Mini driver, while needing to impress a Jaguar driver?
I had thought about the waving hierarchy many times over the years; not that it’s kept me awake at night, but it is amusing.
Jaguar
Another decade on and recently this notion returned to the surface when good friend Geoff Wheeler asked if I wanted to join him in ferrying a 1937 SS100 Jaguar from Sydney to the Australian island state of Tasmania. Needless to say I jumped at the chance, but as I could not afford the time to be away I told him that I would only join him as far as Melbourne and he would be alone for the overnight ferry to Tasmania.
The SS100 was sold new in the UK, but has been in Australia since 1946. It is currently owned by a collector who had moved to Tasmania and over time is moving his goods and chattels. The car has probably been restored a few times and during its last, the engine was stroked to over three liters.
Swallow Sidecar
The story of how Jaguar evolved from a humble motorcycle sidecar builder to a manufacturer of complete vehicles after World War II is probably well known, however, how it grew into an impressive coachbuilding company before the hostilities is worth highlighting.
While the first Swallow Sidecar was produced in 1922 it was just a few short years later that founders William Lyons and William Walmsley were widening their repertoire by altering the austere bodywork that was the norm for the time. This included changing straight lines to curves and replacing the monotone colors with duotones. In other words, they were doing something that today we would call—customizing.
In 1927, the company name was changed from Swallow Sidecar Co. to the Swallow Sidecar and Coachbuilding Co. They also moved the business from the seaside resort town of Blackpool to the center of the British automotive industry, Coventry. Soon they were making complete stylish bodies to suit Morris, Austin, Fiat and Wolseley chassis and running gear.
However, it was their relationship with the Standard Motor Company (see last month’s Vintage Roadcar Feature for a history) that was to provide the greatest influence, as Lyons was to reach agreement with Standard’s John Black to provide chassis and running gear. Lyons wanted to produce cars under his own name and at London’s 1931 motor show the SS 1 was shown for the first time. Compared with other cars of the day it was a striking looking vehicle, even if its performance was less than sparkling coming from four- or six-cylinder, side-valve engines.
The SS 1 was noticed too, with London’s Daily Mail christening the SS as, “The Car with the £1000 Look!” While long bonnets, shortish passenger cockpits and helmet-style front fenders certainly made for a stylish design, the price tag of £310 was attractive too. From then through to 1936, a total of 148 SS 1s were built.
As mentioned, Lyons was enthusiastic about producing cars and, in late 1933, SS Cars Ltd. was formed at the same time when Walmsley sold his half of the business on the basis that he did not really wish to be a vehicle manufacturer.
Sports Cars
Then in March of 1935 came the release of the first SS sports car in the form of the SS 90 (90 mph being its theoretical top speed). Powered by Standard’s 2 ½ liter, 70 bhp, side-valve six-cylinder and using a shortened SS 1 chassis it was a very stylish looking sports car, but soon drew criticisms of being “more show than go.” Just 23 SS 90s were produced.
To counter these criticisms, Harry Weslake was brought in to work on engine development for Standard, and from Hillman came Bill Heynes, as chief engineer for SS Cars.
With a new Weslake overhead, crossflow cylinder head design, the 2 ½ Standard engine was developing 102 bhp, and late in 1935 a new range of SS cars emerged on the showroom floor. A more powerful engine gave birth to a new name—the SS Jaguar 2 ½-Liter Saloon. Priced at just £395, it looked to be valued at least twice that amount. While sporting the saloon certainly was, its performance was hampered by the bodywork. It was the company’s first use of the Jaguar name.
It was in 1936 when a new sports car put paid to that. The SS Jaguar 100 was, as the name implied, good for 100 mph. Well not quite, as contemporary testing could only squeeze 95 mph out of the 2 ½-liter version, but when the engine was enlarged to 3 ½ liters, producing 125 bhp, more than 100 mph was finally seen on the clock.
With a wheelbase of 8-feet, 8-inches, the chassis of the SS100 was essentially a shortened version of the saloon chassis. Suspension was semi-elliptics all round on solid axles with 18-inch wire wheels. Both engines breathed through twin SU carburetors and the car’s four-speed gearbox had synchromesh on the top three ratios. Girling mechanical brakes were more than adequate for a car weighing just over 2,600 pounds. Like all SS cars beforehand, the purchase price was extremely reasonable at £395 for the 2 ½-liter car, while the 3 ½ liter would set you back £445.
While the saloons and tourers were made in greater numbers, only 198 2 ½-liter SS100s were made and 116 3 ½ versions before World War II interrupted production. In 1945, following hostilities, SS Cars changed its name to Jaguar Cars Limited. Under its new name Jaguar would produce Standard-powered saloon cars through to the release of the DOHC engine-powered XK120 in 1948. The SS100 would go on to be renowned through to the present day as one of the most aesthetically pleasing of all Jaguars produced.
Quickest
The quickest way between Sydney and Melbourne is to head to the freeway, turn south, set the cruise control and away you go. The road has improved dramatically from a single lane either way with limited passing opportunities, to a four-lane freeway for most of the 540 miles. Depending on stopping times it should take somewhere between nine and ten hours.
Setting off down the freeway for over 500 miles would have been pleasant enough, but Geoff decided that the SS100 really needed to be driven on roads that were more in keeping with the age and style of the vehicle. This meant heading west and over the mountains to the country city of Bathurst and then criss-crossing the state of New South Wales and ending up that evening in the rather pleasant town of Beechworth, located in the north of the Australian state of Victoria. The plan was to travel 454 miles on the first day, and then the following day it was a further 224 miles into Melbourne. Simple math will tell you that’s a total of 678 miles. Well, that was the plan, but there were a few deviations, so we never quite figured out that while the odometer was reading 6399 when we started it was 7280 at the finish. That’s 881 miles for the calculator deprived.
Bathurst was the best place for coffee, and like many Australian country towns it was reverse 45-degree parking to the kerb. We soon found out that it’s hard to be inconspicuous in a SS100 as it attracted quite a few lookers, many of whom wanted to know what sort of MG it was, only to be completely confused by the SS Jaguar badge on the grille. The number plate also drew a few comments as while the car wasn’t registered for the road it did carry an Unregistered Vehicle Permit. To help deter unwanted stops by local “boys in blue” Geoff had made up a special set of fictitious number plates – 1 UVP.
Big Smoke
West of Bathurst and every minute driven, we were further away from the Big Smoke (Sydney). We headed southwest toward Cowra, a town renowned for servicing the local farming community and also having experienced a mass breakout by Japanese prisoners-of-war during the Second World War.
It was my turn behind the wheel and frankly I was surprised at how quick this almost 80-year-old car performed. Also surprising was the ease of the four-speed gearbox with synchro on the top three, so much so that I very early in the drive remarked to Geoff at how modern the SS 100 felt. It stopped with confidence too, even with its mechanical brakes. 
By this stage, we were really into the Australian bush and paying heed to the kangaroo and wombat warning signs! Heading south of Cowra is when it started—the slight raising of the finger and, of course, doing the same in return. A bloke has to be friendly doesn’t he? It was almost every car going the other way and on the B roads they were mostly locals going about their normal business who surely appreciated the sight of a striking square-rigger.
Through the town of Young, the cherry capital of Australia and on to Cootamundra. However, then followed one of the highlights of the trip—a stop at the town of Wombat (pop. 180) and a cleansing ale at the Wombat Hotel that’s held its liquor license continuously since 1877. Memories of B&S (Batchelor and Spinsters) balls held at Wombat came back, where jackeroos and jillaroos would come from far and wide. No details please! However, the Mini Cooper did look odd among all the Holden utes.
Next was the road to Gundagai and the passing traffic was getting more enthusiastic with one passer-by throwing us a full arm wave out of the driver’s window. The main south running Sydney-Melbourne freeway skirts around Gundagai so we spent our only time among the semi-trailers where the waves gave way to blasts from their air-horns. Geoff was back behind the wheel and he insisted that the windscreen be folded forwards. It was mid-autumn and thankfully not too cold.
Thankfully too that we were soon off the freeway and heading south-east toward Tumut and dinner at a local hotel. Then it was another 40 miles to Tumbarumba where I must admit that it was getting cooler.
The Border
Next we headed southwest toward the border with the southern Australian state of Victoria and back on to a four-lane carriageway crossing at the twin towns of Albury and Wodonga.
It was now dark and not just cooler, but bloody cold. The climate control in the SS100 was working perfectly—with the inside temperature the same as the outside! I didn’t have any gloves, and frankly even if I could see them I really didn’t care who waved, as I certainly wasn’t going to take my hands out of my pockets. Geoff was driving and, yes, the windscreen was up. Thankfully, the Lucas “P100” headlights were surprisingly effective as were the others, including a reversing light.
The next town was Yackandandah—now try saying that through chattering teeth.
As mentioned, our destination for the evening was Beechworth, and dinner with a bottle of red at a local restaurant was beckoning. However, it was 9 p.m. and no amount of driving up and down the main street in a SS100 could convince anyone to open. A pizza along with the red sufficed. Rooms had been booked in a converted priory, and a long hot shower was perfect for the chilled bones.
Next morning, looking from inside the Beechworth Bakery, the SS100 looked fantastic in the early morning light parked 45-degrees nose to the curb. Early morning risers stopped to see what it was.
With a full tank of fuel we headed west along the back roads for 100 miles toward Wangaratta and then south to the town of Mansfield for coffee. Enjoying the brisk morning air it was interesting to see the many vapor trails from the jets vying the Sydney-Melbourne air corridor, one of the world’s busiest.
The waving continued! Some with just a waved finger right through to an enthusiastic arm out the window. We even managed to attract waves from a number of police officers who had stopped on the side of the road. Clearly, they were after a couple of suspicious-looking felons in an SS100.
Black Spur
We were soon just 35 miles northeast of Melbourne and going along what is without doubt one of the most spectacular roads in Australia. Coming from the north it was downhill along the Black Spur Drive and through spectacular tall forests with enormous mountain ash trees with an understorey of green ferns.
It was my time behind the wheel again and just a delight to drive through such an environment. It didn’t take me all that long to realize that it was possible to lock up mechanical brakes, making it interesting on the damp road.
Healesville was our next destination, and a close look at a tarmac rally-prepared Volvo 122. Personally, I couldn’t get enough of the pea and ham soup along with the crusty bread. That said it was just ten miles later where Geoff and I parted company. Me by taxi to Melbourne’s Tullamarine Airport for the flight back to Sydney, and for Geoff another 22 miles into Port Melbourne and the Spirit of Tasmania ferry across Bass Straight. Geoff arrived at his destination mid-morning the following day and was flying back to Sydney later the same day.
A wonderful couple of days delighting in an almost octogenarian motor car that was meant to be enjoyed on the open road. Clearly, going on the number of waves we received—reserved to enthusiastic—it was also a delight for the many passers-by. A lot of fun!
