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Matt “F**K your write ups” Russell and the New Stickers

So I said it last time and I guess ill say it again now, it’s been a while since you’ve graced your eyes with my thought words. Last time it was laziness, taking the time to sit down and write something after every event was out weighed by working on the car or simply doing nothing, however this time it’s simply because there hasn’t been that much going on for me in the world of drift.

Since August, the ever famous Drift Attack was run, incorporating round 3 of the Vic Drift championship series. Saturday saw practice for both Club and Pro class for Drift attack with the final round of the championship series slotted neatly into the afternoon.

Round 3 caused a bit of a shake up for the pro class with Jason Ferron pulling his V8 powered taxi through to a very convincing win against the Proz, Prosenik had been driving consistently well all season and to be honest, I was slightly surprised to see him get knocked off the top spot. Khudar took third position in the final round, he’s always knocking on the top four door so it was good to see him back on the podium after a short break from being up there. More to the point, he knocked off young gun El Haouli Moe at this round after being beaten by him at the last couple of outings. I’m sure that caused a stir at the dinner table/rotisserie.

With Jasons win, this knocked my championship standing points from a lovely second to a measly third. Jason, embracing his complexion did the stereotypical thing and stole second place from me in the series and Prosenik claiming the title after a hard fought consistent year.

Drift attack on the Sunday was laid back, how it should be. After qualifying for it in seventh position on the Saturday I sat down with the judges in my carport on the Saturday night and over a couple of beers discussed what they were looking for. I offered Brodie Moore and Leigh O’Sullivan some cash bribes but they refused. So I strung them up by their ankles and hung them from the roof, they’re still there. Occasionally I feed them.

Tommy “The Serbine” Sabo had borrowed yet another car for the event and it hadn’t blown up yet, instead he qualified first. With the low amount of entries was saw some bye runs, eventually Tommy and I met. I thought it was going to be quite an interesting battle when my sweet Chinese seat rail decided to break in turn one on the warm up lap, luckily my pit crew (The Bancheetos) went to action quick with screw drivers and cable ties and I went on to take the win.

To be perfectly honest, I wouldn’t have a clue what happened at the rest of the event, it was that long ago. Unprofessional? Maybe, Mez doesn’t pay me enough to care, but at least I won’t just sit here and babble shit up to fill in the blanks.

Prosenik, as usual went on to win the event, Khudar continued his weekend hot streak with a second place and Aggess took third. I was glad I didn’t grab a podium place to tell you the truth, I didn’t want to have to chat to Mez after hearing him all weekend on the mic. Rabbler.

ADGP Round one, Mallala. What a fucking nightmare. Mitch and I stopped for our first coffee of the morning in beautiful Ararat, greeted by a friendly family who were having a physical discussion over why the eldest son shouldn’t wear a “Sons of Anarchy” jumper because “it supports the bikies”. We needed coffee to deal with that. Quickly, we made the charge for the border, only to find that the desert state had been over run by flies. It only got worse.

After a long night Friday riding the West Beach skate park, Saturday was looking good. Two laps into practice and the old Weatherboard wonder was ticking like a time piece. Closer inspection revealed that one of the rocker arms was hungry and ate a couple of shims, then saw that the valves were wearing a sons of anarchy jumper and decided to beat them up a little bit.

The solution? Lindsay and Mitch jumped in the car and headed to Nuriooriuptiupta to pick up some heads off the toaster wagon driver Jarrad Klingberg while Forced Motorworx’s poster girl Drew removed the rocker arm, spark plug and injector plug from the damaged cylinder and out we went for qualifying. In the mean time, Gold Chains Cece had blown his bottom end to bits in the Ceffy, but had also decided to limp it around for qualifying because as the regs state, even though there are only 32 drivers, you MUST complete a qualifying lap in order to qualify. The race was on.

I managed to get the 3 cylinder power house up to about 60km/h down the front straight which allowed me to do a sweet handbrake nang into both turn one and turn two. Yet Cece only did one mean nang and he got two qualifying points and I only received one. Even after keeping the peace with all my required new stickers, he still beat me, so he let me use his workshop Jaustech overnight to fix our cars.

10pm, engine completely in bits, Cece’s engine removed, things were going sweet, so we ate some suburb sized pizza. By midnight, the engine itself was back together and by 1am we were ready to start it. All seemed alright, so while Cece finished putting the motor that he pinched out of his mates car in, we went out onto his private test track. Problems. Massive break down once the car would come onto boost, and by 3am we were over it, as were the residents of the area so we called it a night.

After two hours sleep, we headed back out to the track with no idea how the car would go. It dawned on me that in my slumber state the night before, I wasn’t watching any of my gauges, sure enough first lap out on Sunday I watched the boost gage do back flips off the scale, there’s your problem genius. It took our resident British motoring enthusiast to spot the problem. Does any body seriously use those other ports on the waste gate? Much embarrass.

Things were looking up… wrong. Top 32 against Ben Purtell, I put in a decent chase lap, however my lead lap was dismal. Whether it was the lack of sleep, or the fact I half spun and didn’t want to scuff my new stickers I decided the dirt was the line for me, there in the middle of the paddock was where my weekend ended.



After weeks of planning our transportation for round two of ADGP in Barbagallo W.A. and having the dreadful results of round one over my head, I really wasn’t looking forward to it. Adding to that, the Don had built me a new motor and my tuner Dr. Drift had a serious car crash where he broke his ankle, which really wasn’t making it easy for him to run in and tune my car. Never the less, he squeezed into the cabin and got her done just in time to stack it into a container above one of the most expensively built cars Australian drift has seen.

We arrived in the desert on Friday morning, quickly grabbed our renta rocket and headed for the track. The containers as you can imagine were sweltering but thankfully, when we opened them up my Nissan powered Toyota hadn’t fallen onto the Toyota powered Nissan below which would have caused some sort of Nisstoy time warp.

For a track that I was told repeatedly not to bother showing up to unless I had minimum 320kw, I seemed to adapt to it rather quickly in practise. That new motor I had was sweet, starter motor, not so great. So off Mitch and Lindsay went for a second round in a row to source parts, and just like that, they had it fixed. Going from such a high speed entry to such a low speed first corner was about the only thing catching me out, but I figured it out eventually. The fourth gear flat track however was taking its toll on the tyres and by the end of qualifying I had a decent pile of scrappies going. The heat was also taking its toll on me and by the time we made it to the beach we had a fair pile of empties going.


Tallest man in the west, Mitch Bunney gave me a call and told us to head around to a BBQ near where we were staying. Who am I to turn down a BBQ? Upon arrival I was greeted with what was soon to be known as the greatest beer Australia has produced, “the bush chook”, Emu Export. Now I was wondering, all these beers, this BBQ, but no food? Well, when one young gentleman said to me “nah mate, these chooks are better warm” and slapped one on the BBQ my face went from the desert crisped sunburnt pink to British slapper white. At first, I laughed and grabbed another cold one, then ten minutes later had a scolding hot can jammed down my throat. Now let me tell you, if you can have a beer on a BBQ for ten minutes and still drink it like an alcoholic coffee, them my friends, you have a damn good beer.

Sunday morning, top 32 and you guessed it, I was up against Kelly Wong. I think there has been maybe one single event that both Kelly and I have entered that we haven’t ended up battling against each other. Regardless, the show went on and I managed to progress to the top 16. Jack Widdas, A driver who I had never battled put up a tough fight and to be honest, I thought he would have had it. Speaking to him after our battle he said he had touched the dirt in a few places which must have been what lead to me advancing.

Days over for sure, Andy Grey of power vehicles in the 800hp JZX100 which may or may not have once belonged to a good mate in Victoria and I may or may not have streeted in and/or with this car on numerous occasions. It’s such a god damn big car. Luckily for me the big four door weapon must have suffered some mechanical issues as Undy Mun said it lost all power coming out of turn one.

Top four, don’t worry, I didn’t believe I was here either. Up against the only driver to have placed within the top ten at both rounds of ADGP, Dale Campaign. Luck must seriously have been on my side this event. Dale put in two solid runs, we both made small mistakes and somehow, I made it through.

Now, if you know me, you would know that I don’t really care how well I do at an event, it’s more so the fact that I am there, and I’m doing it, having a blast. Having made it into the final wasn’t something that excited me that much. Until I realised who I was up against, Matt Harvey in another dirty old Datsun powered corolla. This was going to be good. Undoubtedly it was probably the hardest I had pushed and the best battle I had all weekend, definitely the closest one too. Being able to go that hard against a car of the same wheelbase, almost identical set up and a great driver, at those speeds, was unreal.

The problem was I knew it was close between us two, and I was literally on my last tyres. You think i’m kidding? I had already organised a pair of second hand scrap pile tyres off the only other corolla driver at the event in case of a re-run, because “no one runs 15’s anymore”, so there were no tyres anywhere in the West of the country for me to use.

Thankfully a decision had been made. Matt (the other one) took the win. If I had to loose to anyone that day, i’m glad it was Matt, top guy, great team, much excite, many amaze. That was about the extent of it, no bad luck for a change, finally posted some sort of result (can I retire now?).

To close off the year I went to matsuri. Same story as usual really. We had lots of beers, got kicked out of our accommodation, I took the missile 86 up and it wouldn’t die properly as usual, other than a turbo, but that doesn’t warrant its death. Had more beers. Went home.



I really have to thank The Bancheetos Kart club for helping me at all these events lately, I chocked like Marshall during my speech in W.A. and forgot to thank them so Mitch, Bryce, Nicole and Lindsay, and the others, thanks. Also Donny at Forced Motorworx, Chris and Brett at Shockworks, Jake at JDI fabrications and Leigh at Inverse tyres. Couldn’t have got through 2013 without you.

So stay tuned in 2014 for more late write ups about events that happened months ago and no one cares about anymore anyway. Mez will complain i’m not doing enough, so then ill do one of these recap stories and we all lived happily ever after.

No but seriously, ill do better.

Pictures shamelessly ganked from
JRM Photography
InMotion Motosport Photography
FEAO Media
Fast Apeture Photography
Moisseven

1 thought on “Matt “F**K your write ups” Russell and the New Stickers

  1. Fo reals tho, this was a great read!

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