My Journey

I grew up in back rooms full of oil, old steel and stories. In the late 70s and early 80s I spent many nights at the Sporting Car Club of SA, where my Dad was Chairman of the Vintage Section. Later he sat as President of the Federation of Historic Vehicle Clubs, and was one of the five who helped create the Bay to Birdwood. I was lucky enough to ride in the first four runs from 1980 — usually racing home afterwards to catch the Bathurst 1000 and stare at Kevin Bartlett’s Camaro like it was a religion.

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In 2021 I finally bought my own dream car — a ’79 Z28 Camaro — partly because the Aussie coupes I grew up with are now priced out of reach. Like a lot of dads, I’d sold my XB Fairmont years earlier to put family first. That’s a sacrifice plenty of blokes know too well.

Cars have always been part of my life. My first day of school was in a Morris Minor convertible. My first car in ’89 was a Morris Minor. That same car is now the heart of Car Guy Counselling.

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I’m not unique. Plenty of us have owned Monaros, Falcons, vans, Toranas… and plenty of us carry the sting of letting them go. What is special is what cars give back. The hours in the shed are never wasted — you walk out with a car that runs better and a mind that feels clearer.

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Now I get to share that with my boys as we build their ’75 HJ Holden 253 and ’74 XB GS 351. And after 20+ years teaching, and my own share of wins and losses, I’ve learned this: talking is easier when your hands are busy and the bonnet’s up.

That’s why I’m here.

To work with blokes who don’t love “therapy,” but understand engines, pressure, responsibility, and the feeling of running out of gas.
Using cars — real cars, real stories — as the space where life gets sorted out.