I was seven years old when Allan Moffat and Colin Bond crossed the line 1-2 in their Ford XC Falcon Hardtops at Bathurst in 1977. I still remember seeing these incredible cars crossing the finish line in a manner that defied the plan of Ken Miles and the GT40s (derived from the Shelby Cobras) at Le Mans in 1966.
A lifelong Ford tragic, that was the day I fell hopelessly in love with the sound of a Cleveland V8 and the sight of a Falcon Hardtop, Australia’s greatest muscle car. (It’s not my opinion, it’s fact.) Allan Moffat became my hero, and he never really stopped being one.
A year later, in 1978, I was at Roselands Shopping Centre in Sydney with my grandparents. There, under the fluorescent lights and surrounded by curious shoppers, sat Moffat’s famous XC Cobra coupe. I was able to slip into the driver’s seat. For thirty glorious seconds, I was Allan Moffat. I can still feel the goosebumps. The blue-and-white livery of the Falcon Cobra, with its sleek shape and incredible hips, made this enormous beast so desirable that I still dream of owning one.
Fast-forward almost half a century to January this year. I was standing beside the Dog on the Tuckerbox near Gundagai, stretching my legs on a long drive south. The Dog on the Tuckerbox is another reminder of my 1970s childhood. I was taking a selfie next to it to send to my sisters when a van pulled up. Out stepped Allan Moffat’s manager, who started taking photos of various trophies and posters in front of the Dog. They were bound for the National Motor Racing Museum in Bathurst, where Le Mans legend and Moffat’s co-driver Jacky Ickx had just returned for the first time since 1978 to present the 1977 Bathurst trophy on behalf of the Moffat family.
Allan’s manager and I got to talking, and he told me Allan was not in good shape. The original trophies he had in tow were headed for the museum. I didn’t know then that it would be one of the last stories I’d ever hear about the great man still being involved.
Allan Moffat was Canadian by birth, but Australian by choice and by deed. He arrived here with an accent, a ruthless work ethic, and a gift for driving a race car on the absolute limit with a grace that made it look effortless. Four Bathurst wins, four Australian Touring Car titles, a Le Mans class victory, and more lap records than most drivers have race starts. Yet he was never less than courteous, never less than impeccably turned out, never anything less than a gentleman.
He gave us the 1-2 fairy tale of ’77, and decades of Ford versus Holden battles that felt like civil war on wheels. Australian motorsport would have been quieter, slower, and far less colourful without him.
So thank you, Mr Moffat, for every perfect racing line, every polite post-race interview, and for letting a starry-eyed kid from Penrith sit in your Cobra all those years ago. The Falcon Hardtop is long gone, but the memory still roars.
Rest easy, champ. The chequered flag has fallen for the last time.
Dr Michael de Percy @FlaneurPolitiq is the Spectator Australia’s Canberra Press Gallery Correspondent. If you would like to support his writing, or read more of Michael, please visit his website.
