On the lamented Classic Adelaide Rally we used to adore the stops at Strathalbyn which coincided with the Duck Race on the river there. On our very first visit back in '98 one lovely local elderly lady slowly confided to us in deadly earnest that "Most years they just race the white ducks, but what's REALLY exciting is when they race the yellow ducks too...".
When we stopped there when the Rally was run in the middle of a desperate fuel shortage caused by a tanker drivers' strike we had vouchers to fill up in a Strathalbyn filling station. I was fuelling our car there when another local lady of considerable age strode up and stridently gave me the most terrific rollocking: "You a Pom? You're a bloody Pom? You bastards come down here, taking all our fuel!!!!..." and more, and more, and more. There wasn't much I could say, even if I could have got a word in edgeways.
It was also at Strathalbyn that we escorted Win Percy in one year after he had just hit a tree head-on in his Cobra lookalike - and on a brow-top double-caution 90-right too. It was the same tree torpedoed by Sir Jack Brabham the previous year. First person to come up to us when we stopped was Blackie himself, beaming ear to ear as he remarked quietly: "Good on yer Win - that's taken some of the heat off of ME".
And it was also in Strathalbyn one year that one of Australia's former colonial masters emerged from his Ferrari (no, this wasn't my mate Vestey) and bawled too loudly in cut-crystal toff tones: "I say chaps - where are all the fweebies?"
Stuff like this is what makes one proud to be British...
But we really did love seeing Strathalbyn each year.