Well, where to start?...... I was born second son to the famous Bernie Elsey Snr, Gold Coast tourism tycoon and self confessed playboy womaniser. My father was 72 when he flew to the Philippines and first wooed my then innocent but well educated and employeed coporate hi flying mother Angelina. Mum apparently was at first rather disgusted by the advances of my dirty old man and turned him down several times before she finally agreed to a couple of shaparoned dates with my grandmother in toe.. Much to everyones surprise a friendship developed. Apparently he was quite charming, well most womanisers are..Mum never saw him as a lover though, not to mention she wanted a child and thought that he was too old anyway.
Mum first agreed to a 2 month all expenses paid shaparoned holiday to Australia with my grandmother in 1979, just to see what it was like. Mum was 28 at the time so you can just imagine the uproar when dad brought my mum over. Headlines in the paper depicting my mother as just another money hungry "mail order bride"......Lets face it dad had some money and people thought that was the only reason why my mother found any interest in my father.....Dad was looking for a partner to travel with him and look after him in his old age. He knew his clock was ticking and that he was unlikley to get any help from his ex wives who would have happily seen him rot in a nursing home.
Mum started to love my old man, the same way a student sometimes loves a teacher and agreed to stay with him for awhile after her mother went back to the Philippines.
A year later they were married and I was well on the way (pre Viagra days mind you). Born with a silver spoon in my mouth. My young life consisted of tv and magazine apperances. Dinner parties with politicians, Helicopters in the front yard and big yachting trips around the world on my dads private ship the Lanaki. We lived in a mansion in the Gold Coast hinterland initially built for the Prince of Malaysia. Life was good and I had everyting a young spoilt brat could want. When I was 6 my father swallowed a bottle of nebutol and drifted into death after a short but painful battle with bowel cancer.... Not more than 24hrs after my dads death the sharks came in, claiming everything that wasn't bolted down. With 8 companies to wind up my mum was in well over her head and not knowing how to control the matter often paid people off that didn't deserve a cent... She was a young woman in a new country and was all alone to protect what was left of the Elsey fortune......But without good advice she was easy prey for some of the Gold Coasts more unscrupulous characters. In the end, there wasn't much left....
The New Begining
It was about that time that she sold things up including the boat, house and the flash cars and bought a little S3 rx7 and moved to the new swamp land suburb of Mermaid Waters. I had just started school out at Somerset College in Mudgeeraba and the road to school was long and winding. Perfect for a little S3 Rx7... It was those trips to and from school that started my Rx-7 rotary obsession, it was like a roller coaster and I loved it.
Me on the first day of school
As soon as I was old enough to drive the choice was pretty easy.. Rx-7...lets be honest it's all I could afford. Except for a commodore which didn't interest me one bit. I worked holidays in a cafe and mowed lawns for the old people in our street to pay for it. She cost me $4K it had a 12A engine and a 3 speed auto transmission, paint was abit faded and she had some rust in the usual spots but she was pretty clean for an original car. It was slow, but was still fast enough to get me into trouble one afternoon on my way to a mates house. Doing some stupid speeds in the wet I lost control of the car on a bend and skidded for about 200m before running into a massive storm water culvert. Bent the front left guard, bumper, apron and also the underside of the car. I somehow managed to flat spot all 4 brand new tyres. A valuble lesson that luckily didn't cost me my life. I'll refer more to this story later.
I finished with resonable marks from school. I wasn't a scholar and was often in trouble...Spent most of my time in detention or playing in my rockband . I was used to getting my own way at home with my mother and 3 aunties. My step father Bruno was strict as most Croatians are but he was more interested in sport than academics....We often clashed and I'd use the old "your not my father line"....I was often the topic of heated arguments at home between Bruno and Mum. I needed some fatherly advice and guidance and a good old kick up the bum, but Bruno's abrasive slav temprement often added fuel to the fire....
When things got too heated at home I found myself staying at Tom's house. Tom was my best friend, after some time he became more like a brother and Tom's family treated me like a second son....being there gave me balance and stabillity, and kept me away from some of my mates that were invloved in drugs.... that, and I had a thing for Tom's older sister Becky....
Tom's Dad has so many cars, Lotus's, Austin Healey's, Jensen Interceptors, Jags, 1300 Clubmans, Old Mg's..... Cars i'd never heard of hundreds of them! He was a collector, more like a horder than a collector...Not many of them ran..most sat in the paddock or had rusted beyond recognition. We used to go down to his farm, find a bomb fix it up and drive around the paddock. Toms dad would teach us about engines and how to drive cars and motorbikes and we'd help him out with farm chores... Slashing lantana was his favorite especially if we'd been particularly naughty.... When we were good he'd take us to Historic hillclimbs and sprint meets at Lakeside and Willowbank. He'd drive us all over the country to compete in dingy sailing regattas and we used to do pretty well at the state and national series. Tom was national Corsair champ in 1998.
Charlie (Tom's Dad) was also a school teacher at Somerset, I was in his graphics class, engineering and also in his Maths A class or (veggie maths as we called it). He was the only teacher that really paid attention to me. Most of theachers gave up as they do with most of the rich trust fund babies that went to that school. I still remember the first time he told me to pull my head outta my arse and made me really look hard at my life. He was the first one to tell me what everyone else was thinking and I was grateful for it. Finally somebody gave me a straight no bullshit answer. It was during that conversation the light in my head first switched on.
It was much to everyones surprise including myself that I even made it into university.....I still dabbled in the rock band and smoked too many drugs in first year uni, how I passed I don't know....Another talking to from Charlie and I was back on track.... it was easy to get side tracked with all the freedom I had. Charlie was the only one that ever believed I could make something of myself on my own. He helped me out with my maths during the first and second year of Construction Management and engineering studies. I wouldn't have got through the course without him.
During uni I spent alot of time fiddling with the rx-7 when I didn't have lectures. It wasn't in the best shape after the accident in high school and eventually the water seal went on the original engine after 260,000kms. Not too bad for a rotary. As my primary mode of transport I was stuffed without the car but couldn't afford a rebuild. So got a part time job with a landscaping firm working for $10/ph. Hardest job ever....but after 3 months of not having a working car I could finally afford a rebuilt 13b. She ran crisp as with the 12a carby and infact was more ecconomical than the old motor and had more grunt. I drove everywhere. I used to love cruising down to the esplanade picking up random girls and heading up to the spit for even more random night time encounters.
After a while got bored with the 13b with the standard carb. Tom was a serial trading post user and now is addicted to Ebay, he found a 48IDA that was going cheap. We bought the carb and quickly took it home and started hooking it up to the car....not knowing what jets or chokes it had in it.... We fired up the beast and instantly she had a throaty note. We went for a spin up the road, popping and farting but fark she was fast. I finally knew what all the fuss was about. Webbers are awesome!! I drove the car for another 50 kms and expired the whole tank within 150kms. Stopped by the side of the road only a few hundred meters from the petrol station. I was finding myself pushing the car for the first time...An exercise I was to get quite custom to over the next few years.
I took the car to mechanic after mechanic to try and sort out the webber. All just told me to put the standard 12a carb back on........that would be the logical thing to do, but no farking way!!! I had the need for speed and there was only one way for me to go.
I heard on the grapevine there was a guru of webbers in the Gabba by the name of Blair Salter and that he would definately know what jets and chokes i should run to fix my ecconomy issue....Well I found him after much looking, grumpy old fart he was...he had no idea but fortunately he told of a guy trained by Barry Jones named Barend. Little did I know at the time I was about to meet one of the most facinating men who was to become a great friend and mentor. I rocked up to Barends workshop and within minutes of getting there he had the chokes and jets out and swaped with the right ones. Not more than 10minutes after arriving the car was running sweet. He didn't charge me for the jets and had fixed the issue that many others couldn't. This was the precise moment that rotaries started to become a big part of my life. I finally found somebody that knows what he's doing.
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