Dave's take on tributes - Morley's World

By: Dave Morley

Date: 08.01.2023

Morley reckons a replica is the smart way to enjoy precious metal like a Phase III GTHO, but with his own take on it

I’ve long held the view that the best GT-HO Phase III for me would be a replica. That way, I could actually bring myself to drive it, enjoy it and maybe even park it somewhere public for as much as 20 minutes without degenerating into a dribbling wreck.

But for every bloke like me, there’s at least one or two for whom the real thing is the only way to go. And I can see that side of the argument, too. Let’s face it, the word ‘Replica’ is, well, a bit tawdry in this context. ‘Clone’ is also socially awkward. ‘Tribute’ is a bit apologetic, ‘Re-creation’ is only one back from ‘Faker-Shaker’ and ‘Continuation’ sounds like a quote from the Trump legal team arguing that bankruptcy never existed even as a concept. And don’t even start me on ‘Reimagined’.

So I have the solution. No, really.

| Read next: Falcon GT-HO Phase III sells for $1.030M (2018)

If we accept that a genuine Phase III is, A, priced beyond the means of decent working folk, and; B, rarer than a happy vegan, then a replica example becomes the only way in, right? Exactly. But, having just explained the trashy (to some folks) reality of a knock-off, where do we go from there?

Well, it works like this: Rather than build a generic replica of a GT-HO, the trick is to get hold of the build sheet for a Phase III that, sadly, no longer exists beyond photo albums. Given the number that were sent to HO heaven in the day, this should not be impossible. This info is the car’s DNA.

Fast Ford replicas in all shapes and sizes

Then, after carefully decoding the sheet and determining the exact spec (colour, trim, gear ratios, wheels, whatever) you recreate that exact car. Not just a Vermillion Fire over black Phase III: That very Vermillion Fire over black Phase III. The one with the 3.25:1 diff gears and the stripe delete option. The one that no longer exists. It kind of takes it from a fanboy’s wet dream to an exercise in forensic reconstruction.

You’re not just cobbling together another random GT-HO replica, you’re recreating an actual car that once existed but now doesn’t. Think of it as using science to bring the Tassie Tiger back to life, as opposed to cloning another sheep.

| Read next: 50 years of Phase III - GT-HO values

But what about the original owner of the car you’ve just recreated? Chances are they’d be delighted to see their old car again. And, it’s not costing them anything, is it? Maybe – for whatever reason – they’d be less than pleased at the thought of somebody else owning their car. Except it’s not their car, is it? No. Or have I just stumbled across a real-world example of the concept of an NFT? In any case, if they feel that way, they shouldn’t have sold it or written it off (probably the latter).

You’d have to draw the line at changing the VIN to match the original’s (unless you like prison food) but everything up to that point would be fair game. I dunno, I just think recreating an actual car rather than a random example of a broader model gives the thing so much more intrigue.

It also removes the question mark hanging over making something that isn’t the real thing. See, in the case of a ‘normal’ Phase III replica, the argument from the purists is, why don’t you go and buy a real one? A satisfactory answer (as far as our purist is concerned) is difficult to come by. But by tackling things my way, you neatly sidestep that, by arguing that the car you want to recreate no longer exists to buy at any price.

Five slotters and red line tyres; instant respect

And here’s the killer punch: Instead of calling it a Replica or a Continuation or a Fake or a Copy, you call it a… wait for it… a Phase III Ghost. Yep, the Ghost of VIN JG33XXXXXX. Has a certain sizzle to it, don’t you think?

Of course, Ghosts don’t have to start and end with GT-HOs. Oh no. I’d love to build the Ghost of my old man’s HQ Kingswood. In reality, it was nothing special as far as HQ Holdens went, but to me, it’d be a hell of a thing to complete and then own. Why not find the old girl and restore it? Because, from all accounts, it wound up wrapped around a tree just weeks after the old boy traded it in. And that was 40-odd years ago. So, if I can’t have the real thing, I’ll settle for the Ghost of it.

Am I on to something here? I reckon I might be. In the meantime, the first time you hear somebody at the pub refer to any kind of replica car as a Ghost, you tell ’em you read it here first. And who knows; this could be the next big trend in our hobby. Anybody got an HQ shell lying around?

THE GOOD SON

I bought a new car the other day. This may not sound like an over-share on my part, but when your mates traditionally greet you with "Bought any cars this week?" you know you have a perceived problem.

Okay, so I have too many cars. I get it. Darling. pass the salt. Anyway, the point being this time around, the new purchase is not for myself, but rather for my sainted, grey-haired mother.

Now, you might say that a dame of my mother’s age possibly shouldn’t be driving anymore. To which I say, she should probably never have been allowed on the Queens (sorry, King’s) Highway. Mother is a very rounded driver. She has spent the last few decades taking the corners off pretty much everything.

Morley Snr started with early Holdens

Now, combine that knowledge with the fact that my father started with FJ and EH Holdens, peaked with a V8, four-on-the-floor HQ and then ran steadily downhill, degenerating firstly to a pair of hideous Datsuns and finally a Toyota Starlet with a three-speed auto and no power-steering. Yes, like many character flaws, this one has clearly skipped a generation.

The point is that Mater has been struggling to steer this ugly little brute of a thing for the last couple of decades and, frankly, it ain’t easy for her.

Especially the last couple of years since Father is no longer around to help with corner removal.

But she’s gamely put up with the Starlet, refusing offers of a power-steered replacement on the basis that the wee Tojo has been such a faithful little guy; always starting and never letting her down. And, to be honest, it has been a reliable little bugger. Till it wasn’t.

A Getz to replace the matriarchal Morley's Starlet

Just lately, the Starlet has turned all spiteful and will only start when it feels the need. Even though Mum’s average weekly logbook entries start and finish with one trip to the supermarket and one to the club for bingo and a sneaky shandy, the Starlet’s recent baleful behaviour means each of those trips is more of a lottery than ever before. And trust me, they were sketchy adventures at the best of times. What with corners, and all.

When it first started happening, I ripped in and checked out the alternator and starter motor. Luckily, both were okay, because a replacement alternator for one of these things would have created a financial write-off. But even after enlisting the help of the local auto sparky, we couldn’t figure out why the Starlet would come down with a case of the random quits.

To be honest, the whole car is reaching that point in its life where it needs to go away and come back as microwaves and soup tins. With more than 300,000km on its odo, it’s hard to complain about the car’s contribution to Morley-family life, but experience has taught me that a disappointed Mrs Morley is also a fairly fraught policy.

So I did what any good son would do and started to look around for a replacement set of matriarchal wheels. It wasn’t too long before – over a Friday-knock-off beer would you believe – my old mate Chuck Ripplejaw coughed up that he had a Hyundai Getz he wanted to unload as surplus to requirements.

Now, this Getz has also covered its share of kliks, but they’ve (nearly) all been country miles (a nurse commuting between the city and her bush hospital) so the thing is a lot fresher than Mater’s current whip. The Getz is at least a generation (probably two) newer in design terms and runs to stuff like a four-speed auto, fast-glass, and even a CD player. Most importantly, though, the Hyundai also has a belt running from the engine to a small hydraulic pump that has hoses running from that pump to the steering rack. Yep, power hook. Sold!

Now, you might think that I’m being a mean bastard, saddling my dear old ma with a 16-year-old hatchback that was nothing special even when it was new. But trust me, sometimes, less really is more.

For a start, the Getz has the same sort of exterior dimensions as the now-cornerless Toyota. This is good news as it means the piers holding up the carport might just survive. (Piers have corners, too, don’t forget.) But also, the Getz has just about the right level of tech on board to keep the world nice for Mum. There’s traction control, for instance, and ABS brakes and even a pair of airbags should the corners decide to play rough.

I imagine the CD player in the new car will remain unused and, even though Mum is the go-to gal for the local wrinklies when their laptops freeze up, giving her a car with Apple CarPlay, sat-nav and a touch-screen, menu-driven operating system would almost certainly end in tears.

Four forward ratios will be heaps for trips to the bowlo (and is already one up from where she was) and the 1.6 in the Getz makes about twice the power of the Starlet, which still ain’t much, but it’s a cruisier thing to pilot and doesn’t require constant use of the whip as the Tojo does.

And then there’s that power-steering…

Yes, I am a great son.

GIVING THE GAME AWAY

Now, here’s something I’ll never grasp. Some blokes go to an awful amount of time, effort and folding to keep a car looking stock, even though it might be packing some serious hardware. Whether it’s a resto-mod or an outright sleeper, I am absolutely on board with keeping it all a secret.

Notching a cross-member to get a big engine under a stock bonnet; moving a firewall back and enlarging a trans tunnel to convince a small car to swallow a big motor… it’s all clever and done properly, it’s two thumbs up from me.

Advertising your sleeper via a rego plate is a great self-cancelling statement

But then, having gone to those lengths, what does Matey do? Yep, he orders a number plate with something like LS1-XU1 on it to completely give the game away. Or what about SLY-TT? Sorry mate, but even though you’ve spent hours hiding the turbochargers down low and making the intercooler fit behind the stock grille, you’ve just told the world that you’re packing twin turbskis. Oh, and the whole SLY thing is also meaningless at that point. (Great example of a self-cancelling statement, no?)

Look, I’m not saying you shouldn’t express yourself via a number plate, but if it’s the only thing giving the game away on an otherwise sneaky sleeper, why do it? You’re also giving The Bronze a big leg-up in finding a reason to pull you over for a roadside date with a tape measure and a noise meter. I dunno, it’s up to you, but since the whole point of a sleeper is to speak softly and carry a big stick, I’d be keeping the lid on what’s going on under the lid.
Course, this could be just me; what do you lot reckon?

From Unique Cars #472, Nov/Dec 2022 

Unique Cars magazine Value Guides

Sell your car for free right here