Some people watch Bathurst on the telly, with a cup of tea, at a sensible volume. We are not here to judge them. We are just here to gently point out that there is another way to do it.
Picture landing in Sydney, being met, and then not lifting a finger for five days. Pit lane on the Saturday, right where the noise lives. A rooftop suite above the garages with a view most people would trade a kidney for. Every transfer, every ticket, every meal, handled long before you think to ask.
The racing does the rest. The Mountain has a way of turning even the calmest person into someone yelling GO at a car they have no financial stake in whatsoever. By Sunday afternoon, when the whole thing comes down to a handful of laps, you will understand exactly why people come back year after year and drag their mates along too.
All you actually do is watch. We get you there, we get you home, and everything in between simply happens. It is the great race, done the way it deserves to be done, with you on the inside of it. Tony is on every tour, every year, because he would be there anyway.