The passing of Frank Kilfoyle in 2014 brought back many memories for me. I spent a lot of time with him over the years from 1973 into the 1980s. Sadly, I mostly lost contact with him after 1990 and was not even aware that he had gone on to get a Psychology degree and to become a counsellor with Lifeline. Only within the last few years of his life did I become aware that he had significant health problems, but living, as I do, in Queensland, I never managed to catch up with him before his untimely death. I would nevertheless like to record and share my memories of Kilf.
By the time I first met Kilf in 1973, he was a crowned Australian Rally Champion and therefore considered by a budding young rally competitor such as me, to be something of an idol. In 1972 Kilf and then navigator, Mike Osborne, established a small rally equipment business, initially called RND Services and subsequently renamed Rallyquip. Mike soon withdrew and the business was run for a number of years by Kilf and his first wife, Estelle. They subsequently established a shop-front in Whitehorse Road, Deepdene. In any case, I do recall purchasing some maps off RND Services in 1972 but from Mike’s home. I did not meet Kilf until 1973. When David Bond and I came second in the first round of the 1973 Victorian Rally Championship, we kind of surprised ourselves, as well as many others in the rally fraternity. We had come from “nowhere”. Events in those days were almost entirely at night and I had arrived at home mid Sunday morning for a well-earned sleep, arising later in the afternoon. It was about 6 pm when the phone rang and my mother said that someone called “Kilfoyle” wanted to talk with me. “With me?” He had just called to congratulate me on the previous night’s performance. What a lovely gesture from a truly “gentle” man! Kilf the idol was just a normal guy, and a humble and friendly one at that.
I can’t remember how the relationship developed next but during 1973, Kilf opened the Rallyquip shop and later that year, once I had my driver’s licence, I took on some part time work there, paying for maps and the like on a contra deal. I soon got to know Kilf, as well as his wife Estelle and their children, one of whom had an intellectual disability rather like my other brother, Ross. This was another basis for a deeper friendship and I started to spend more and more time at the shop, at Kilf’s home in Montmorency, and with them out on rallies. I always remember that Kilf would have a big Christmas party and invite all and sundry with a big spread!
By early 1974 David Bond had decided to take off the year and Kilf asked me to navigate for him in the Southern Cross later that year. What an opportunity! He also asked me to assist him organise the Alpine Rally for November that year. Early in 1974 Kilf and I did the competitive start control of an event up in the Greytown area and we took my newly acquired Corolla KE10, as I’d only had my licence for about 6 months. After sending off all the cars we were to clear the first part of the course. Well it didn’t work out that way when I clipped a stump and spun my pride and joy into a tree. How embarrassing to crash with an Australian Rally Champion sitting beside me! Somehow we limped out to the main road and I think we must have phoned home to get someone to come and pick us up. I can only recall that Kilf was very supportive, almost protective of me, as we took much of the next day to organise a trailer, retrieve the stricken Corolla and return it to my home.
This minor indiscretion had some unforeseen consequences. My Corolla was taken to the backyard panel works of the father of a good friend and rally driver, Graham Horsfield, who then leant me his rally Corolla of the same vintage, but much faster! I then went and got pulled over by an off-duty copper in our own street, late one night, doing about 75 km/h in a 60 zone. On a probationary licence this would mean loss of licence. This was bad enough, but the complication was that, while I had competed in rallies for almost 2 years as a navigator without the need for a driver’s licence, the Southern Cross required that I have a licence. Kilf was unfazed. He organised a very nice dinner at the Light Car Club in Queens Road with his former navigator and good friend, Roger Abrahams, who was a well-known solicitor of the day. My predicament was briefly discussed over a nice bottle of red and that was the last I heard of it. Things were done a bit differently back then!
I didn’t do a whole lot of competing during 1974, but took a variety of one-off rides with different folks. The only event I did with Kilf was the Akademos in May, a round of the Australian Championship. I don't recall much of the event but the reports indicate it was horrendously wet. We were in one of the 180Bs, probably the one being used by Watson and Beaumont in the VRC. Although it was not eligible for ARC points, we came second only 1 minute behind Bond in the XU-1. But Kilf and I did a fair bit of rally stuff together, especially once the new Datsun 710 arrived from Japan.
One chilly winter's night in Melbourne Kilf announced that our Southern Cross car had arrived from Japan. We headed down to Hartwell where Bruce Wilkinson had his Datsun dealership. This was the first Datsun 710 in Australia, fresh from the Japanese workshops, all kitted out ready for competition. Under the bonnet was the new and untested twin-cam engine. Let’s take it for a spin! Bruce and at least one of his mechanics, perhaps the inimitable John Boshua, got together a makeshift service crew and we agreed to meet them at Buxton, the other side of the famous Murrindindi Forest. It was somewhat surreal!
We headed out through Lilydale and Yarra Glen to Kilf’s favourite practice road, Mount Slide, used in later years in Rally of Melbourne and perhaps better known for Neal Bates’ rollover in the Corolla (year?). Once we hit the gravel it was “on”. Kilf had a very aggressive driving style, especially on a road that he knew so well. It was a complete contrast to David Bond’s smooth flowing style. It was even a contrast to Kilf's driving in the 180B, perhaps because of the style of road. This was a brand new car, brand new tyres, and he threw it up Mount Slide like a man possessed. I was transfixed, certainly not afraid, but just in awe at the car control and confidence. Kilf decided he liked the car and how it handled. It was quick, but there was something not quite right. Kilf the engineer could hear something, a small rattle under the bonnet, so we backed off as we headed across through the Murrindindi Forest to Buxton. There we found our service crew and they soon had the rocker cover off and decided that something was lose, but it was not yet terminal. We headed back to Hartwell down the highway. Over the coming weeks the twin-cam engine was replaced by the regular single-cam engine and the twin-cam engine did not appear in an Australian competition 710 that year due to reliability concerns.
In the four months leading up to the 1974 Southern Cross Rally Kilf and I went out many weekends testing the 710, usually as a zero car on various rallies. It was a fun time. Sometimes Kilf was “having a go” and other times he was just meandering along. The aim was to be totally comfortable in the car and to continue to test and develop its reliability. I guess I became more blasé about the speed of the car and Kilf’s obvious car control, but I never really remember being as much in awe as I was on that first run up Mount Slide. That is, until we actually started the Cross.
A few days before the Cross the cars were loaded onto the Southern Aurora, the overnight train to Sydney, and we took sleeping compartments. The other team members, Harry Kallstrom and Roger Bonhomme, travelled with us. I’m not sure that George and Monty were with us but I think their car was on the train.
Kilf and me about to board the train to Sydney. Kilf's son Greg on the left.
Kilf and myself at Sydney's Central Station
Once in Sydney we had a spare day while the cars were checked over and then the event started at around midday at the Opera House. It was an easy and relaxed run up to Newcastle with the fairly pointless run along Jewells Beach as a warm up. There seemed no point in trying too hard as everyone did much the same time over the short 4 km stage, which was somewhat rough and yumpy. We continued up through Booral to the first real stage in the Nerong Forest.
It all came to a sudden and unfortunate end about 5 km into this stage. I sensed that Kilf had suddenly decided the event had really started and it was time to get serious. I felt that he was trying harder than he had for many months. It took me back to Mount Slide. Hell, he knows what he’s doing, or so I thought. A fast right downhill into a tightening left is my clear memory as the back stepped out, Kilf corrected but the left front hit the bank. The 710 did a twin roll, rotating 360 degrees side to side and 360 degrees end for end. In an instant it was back on it wheels only a short distance off the right side of the road in a clearing. Other than the bank we hadn’t hit anything. Kilf quickly checked if I was OK, and me of him. We were both fine, slightly shaken but nothing else. In retrospect it was gross optimism when Kilf tried to restart the car. It wouldn’t go and so we were out to inspect the damage. The front was severely stuffed in, not just radiator into the engine but the chassis was clearly bent down. You can see some pictures of mine below. Reality soon set in. Ferguson was next on the road and slowed as he went past, clearly seeing we were OK. Others followed and everyone slowed a bit. Kilf was understandably quiet. He wasn’t someone who was known for crashing. He was known for being quick but not too quick, not always winning, but rarely not finishing. But this was different. In what was arguably the twilight of his career, this crash might spell the end. It was also a severe blow to the Datsun team which was now severely depleted.
The severely damaged Datsun 710
It was just getting dark. We secured the car and walked back the 5 km or so to the start control. Somehow we managed to get a lift to the mealbreak at Craven where I found my parents with whom I would travel through to the division break in Port Macquarie. Kilf I think travelled with the service crew. Our roles had now changed from competitors to running scouts for the other two team cars. Next day, after having some sleep, Kilf and I took a hired trailer back to the Nerong Forest and retrieved the broken 710 and took it back to Port. After all, we may need spares for Kallstrom’s car. Early that night Kallstrom’s car had suspension failure. It was in a fairly remote location south of the Oxley Highway near Yarras. Harry and Roger must have extricated themselves back to Port somehow and next morning several of us, including a mechanic, went and retrieved the car having made roadside repairs. I think Kilf drove the other 710 around for the rest of the event, providing support for George and Monty who were the only remaining Datsun team car. I bummed rides with others, including my parents, to roam around running scouting for George and Monty.
This shot of the damaged car was snapped by Paul Paterson back at Port Macquarie
There was a sense of unreality about the whole situation. Kilf and I drove the Kallstrom car back to Sydney and I actually travelled back to Melbourne with my parents. The hurly burly of the event meant that the gravity of our accident had not really sunk in. As time went by, I began to feel partly responsible for what had happened. Had I been more experienced I would surely have sensed that Kilf was trying too hard too soon and would have counselled him to take it easy. A Southern Cross Rally is not won on the first real stage. In fact it is not even won on the first night. It is an event that requires patience and tactics. Kilf never suggested that I could have done anything differently. He knew that he had made a big mistake. He would only drive once more for Datsun, in the Akademos Rally the following year, and he again crashed, but at least this time it was near the end where he needed to push Dunkerton for victory. And so Kilf’s works driving career came to an end.
I learned a lot from Kilf. I’m not sure we were ever again in a rally car together under competitive conditions. As I took up driving, it was Kilf more than anyone who influenced my driving style. We remained close for many years as I worked in the shop and socialised. I witnessed his breakup with Estelle in favour of Janiene and became friendly with her, feeling somewhat sad about the whole situation and my effective disconnection with Estelle. I even navigated for Janiene a few times. We drifted apart somewhat as Kilf took up the role of road director of the 1979 Repco, but I was chuffed when Kilf and I chatted at the end of the event and he rated our (that is, Wes Nalder, Geoff Boyd and myself) performance as one of the standouts in the event, given our modest budget and relatively slow car. Kilf and I remained good friends well into the 80s and I also had the good fortune to meet his third and last wife, Kathleen, probably sometime in the early 90s.
Kilf at the 1979 Round Australia. We'll always remember you.
