Here’s a bold statement: Allan Moffat, the racing legend, was a downright terrible driver—at least on public roads. But here’s where it gets controversial: while he dominated tracks like Sandown and Bathurst, his everyday driving was, well, a disaster. And this is the part most people miss—the private, hilarious, and often chaotic side of the man behind the wheel. At his state memorial service, among the heartfelt tributes, one speech stood out like a speeding ticket on a quiet street. Andrew Wilson, Moffat’s friend of 50 years, delivered a roast so uproarious it painted a picture of Moffat that few had ever seen.
Wilson kicked things off with a Shakespearean twist, quoting Mark Antony from Julius Caesar: ‘I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him.’ But instead of a somber eulogy, Wilson unleashed a barrage of witty jabs. ‘Allan wouldn’t know Shakespeare from a ham sandwich,’ he quipped, setting the tone for a tribute that was equal parts affectionate and merciless.
The racing world knows Moffat as a legend, but what about Moffat the driver—on regular roads? Wilson revealed a side of Moffat that was anything but polished. ‘Bloody awful,’ he declared, recounting Moffat’s notorious driving in Melbourne’s swanky suburbs like Prahran, Malvern, and Toorak. ‘He was a danger just stopped at the lights,’ Wilson joked, highlighting Moffat’s disregard for traffic signals, indicators, and even basic road rules. Parking? More like abandonment. Giving way? Not in Moffat’s vocabulary. Yet, somehow, he never seemed to hit anything.
And it wasn’t just in Melbourne. Wilson shared a story from 1980s rural France, where Moffat, behind the wheel of a rented Peugeot, drove the wrong way up a one-way street. A confrontation with a furious French driver named Pierre ensued. Despite not speaking French—or much English, for that matter—Moffat shouted louder and gestured more aggressively, somehow emerging victorious. ‘He discovered cheese-eating surrender monkeys 20 years before The Simpsons did,’ Wilson quipped.
But Moffat’s quirks didn’t stop at driving. Wilson also roasted his friend’s ‘gourmet tastes,’ his love for Romeo’s Italian restaurant, and his questionable barbecue skills. Yet, beneath the laughter, Wilson’s love for Moffat shone through. ‘I loved him, I miss him, and I was privileged to know him,’ he concluded, leaving the audience both entertained and moved.
Here’s the thought-provoking question: Is it possible to be a racing legend and a terrible everyday driver? Or are these two skills entirely unrelated? Let’s discuss in the comments—and if you’ve got your own Moffat story, we’d love to hear it!
