When I was 12, my grandparents purchased a gal-bodied 1980 Californian Moke (1275cc with disc brakes) to use as a paddock bomb for their farm in Nagambie.
I barely knew what a Moke was at the time, but when I first saw it, I loved it. My Dad told me to jump in the driver's seat and said, "you've watched me drive, you know what to do, right?". Yeah, in principle I knew what to do. One minute later, my 'lesson' was over after I had demonstrated I could accelerate through the gears and then safely come to a stop. He jumped out and I was off around the ~230 acre property.
A few weekends later we marked out a 'rally' track, that would soon become the subject of heated timed battles between me and my Dad or me and my friends. I still remember my triumph the first time I beat my Dad's time, thanks to a reasonably well executed hand-brake turn around one of the sharpest corners of the track.
The car copped an absolute pounding. There was the time my sister and I decided it would be a good idea to try and jump it off the dam wall. When we landed we realised Dad was watching us from the house and we immediately assumed we were in big trouble. Sheepishly we drove back only to discover him p*ssing himself with laughter. He had a big grin across his face as he said, "my turn!". If there were any engine mounts left intact after the first jump, there certainly weren't any after the second! The way we mistreated the car meant we learned how to fix it pretty quickly too.
Not to say I didn't scare myself a few times either. One time, a poor choice of ramp (a pile of chicken manure) left us flying through the air at an extremely awkward angle with my Dad hanging out the side trying to keep us right side up. Another time, my sister, wearing gumboots, came within inches of running into the back of a Massey Ferguson tractor when she hit the accelerator peddle instead of the brake (while I was standing up in the back holding onto the roll bar). There was also the time I was driving the Moke (unregistered) at age 13 (unlicensed) up the road to a friend's property when the local cops pulled out from a side road just in front of me. They simply smiled and waved me on - gotta love country cops.
On the day of my 16th, I went for my learner's permit. It also corresponded with the Moke's engine making terminal rumblings. I asked my grandparents if I could rebuild the engine, tidy up the rest and have it as 'my first car'. A year later and she was good to go... waiting for me to turn 18 and get my licence!
I'm now 31, and have lived in the Netherlands for the last four years. But, every time I come back to Oz for a holiday, I can't wait to pull MOKEME out of storage and take her for a spin from St. Andrews to Kinglake and onto the Black Spur. Mechanically, she's a different beast: the original engine has been supercharged, she has a Quaife ATB, slotted brakes, coil spring suspension, adjustable camber/toe etc. etc. I've never had the heart to re-spray her though - she was built to be driven hard... and off-road. She's certainly not some show pony.
She never fails to put a smile on the faces of random people I drive past or the kids getting the ride of their life at the Make-A-Wish Foundation Christmas party. What's more, she never fails to put a smile on my face.
Sorry - that started out as a story about my first drive and turned into a novel. If you got this far through... get back to work! (I hope you enjoyed it - it brought a tonne of memories flooding back for me).
) anyway by the time we were near Annandale my wife had had enough of not being able to find 3rd on parramatta road 
