My island adventure in buying my Audi S3 in Tasmania

My adventure began a month before I bought this little gem of a car, when my previous one, a Mazda 3 SP23 Luxury Pack in a delicious Phantom Purple, was unfortunately written off. Thankfully, I knew exactly what I wanted as its replacement...an Audi S3 8L, preferably a MY2002 series with the uprated 165 kW motor and ESC, desirably also in Imola Yellow, completed with the rare two-tone trim in yellow Alcantara and black leather. Which is what I found in fairly short order online. But it was located in Tasmania, a long way from WA! But no matter: I managed to secure some leave from work and after arranging all the flights and necessary accommodation, I spent several days in Sydney, where I also was able to rent an A5 cabriolet (the 2.0 TFSI front-driver may be the "base" model, but it's no slouch and is very well appointed too), I flew down to Launceston on 31 August 2011, where my S3 awaited me at a dealership there. And it was love at first sight. Once I twisted the key and took it for a spin before handing the cheque, I knew that my head and heart were in perfect communion. I immediately dubbed it "The Bee', owing to the colour scheme, both inside and out, and the aurally buzzy nature with stinging performance to boot. I felt like Gene Hunt from "Ashes To Ashes", when he happily exults, "fire up the Quattro!", as I roared away from the forecourt in my own illustrious quattro descendant, proudly carrying on the AWD tradition of the Ur Quattro. After spending the night at The Auldington (a converted former Catholic convent) in Tasmania's "Capital of the North", I briefly stopped by that island's namesake of my (much, much larger!) hometown, before returning to the A8 to George Town, noticing a veritable convoy of modern vintage classics as part of a Variety Club Bash. Continued along the B82 to the beachside town of Bridport, then heading inland towards St Patrick's River via several B- and C-roads, passing through the tight hairpins through the Sideling Ranges on the A3, via Scottsdale and taking the C423 behind Mt Saddleback for a good ol' shakedown on the mostly blue metal road through forested passes to Mathinna...The Bee passed its first real quattro tests with consummate ease! Motored along back onto the B43 blacktop to Fingal and along the A4 to St Marys, then traversing the twisty descent of Elephant Pass in the evening, making the home run to Swansea early in the night along the Freycinet coast. Two nights were spent at the delightful Redcliffe House B&B, my base for exploring the Freycinet Peninsular on the Friday. On Saturday, I set off for Hobart, which meant staying solely on the Tasman Highway (A3): though nominally an A-road, this route still requires much concentration, as the landscape it is set upon is still quite rugged, especially once you drive out of Orford...plenty of hillside hairpin bends that the S3 made short work of. I knew Hobart was close once I passed Sorell and crossed the causeways over Pitt Water. Passed the airport and the Eastern Shore suburbs, then over the Tasman Bridge (of which happened to have its 1975 disaster the day I was born) and into Hobart, which also was a two-night stay at the tasteful Clydesdale Manor in Sandy Bay. Once checked in and unpacked, I set about a hillclimb to the summit of Mt Wellington--a breathtaking drive, The Bee revelling in its element, turbo a-huffing with plenty of blowoff valve hissing added to the addictive metallic symphony. Once atop the mountain, I marvelled at the view of Hobart and the Derwent estuary, but was buffeted by the high winds of the Roaring 40s...and I'm sure it was roaring along at 40 knots, as when I set up my DSLR on a tripod to take a self-portrait. Then a sudden gust on top that gale blew my camera over and was damaged beyond repair...thankfully, it was insured. The next day, I was taking in more of Hobart's scenery and wending roads, also stopping by Tasman Bridge to get up-close-and-personal to it once again (this is my second visit to the Island State and that was one of my original motives to visit, as I share an auspicious date with that crossing). On the Monday morning, once I'd sorted out my camera for assessment in the CBD, I hit the tarmac again, this time going due West along the Lyell Highway (A10), which is a truly demanding road: not for the faint of heart, the easily distracted, nor for those with decrepit or stodgy cars...countless bends of all radii, climbs, descents, blind sweepers, narrow passes and potential sheer cliffside drops are often further bedevilled with wet slicks, torrential rain, black ice, fog, snow, errant fauna and log trucks all often thrown into the mix, to make a measure of the skills of you, as a driver, and your car. Well, thank goodness I love driving and I have a car that can tackle these obstacles with almost-rude disdain...of which The Bee and I exactly did. And right until the gloaming of twilight, towards the destination, Strahan, in the majestic wilderness of the West Coast. Plus I managed to dodge three quolls too, courtesy of a well-calibrated ESC system. After resting a night in that tranquil spot, I returned to the A10, this time as the Murchison Highway, of which the entire A10 route has about 5000-or-so bends from Bridgewater in Hobart, to Somerset in the state's North West, which has tall timber and fecund farmland in equal measure. Made a lefty onto the Bass Highway (A2) to historic Stanley, driving along the beach (again too easy for the quattro!) and then staying in yet another B&B, Hanlon House, of which was the former presbytery for that town's Catholic church...B&Bs are something that Tassies excel at and all are worthy of recommendation. After a sumptuous meal at the Stanley Hotel and having a sound night's sleep, I cruised along the A2 coastal route towards the final rendezvous point of Devonport, of which is the southern terminal of the Spirit Of Tasmania vehicular ferry. Once I'd visited some of the attractions along the way, I gave The Bee its first decent scrub just before embarking. Once The Bee was safely ramped into the hold, I settled in for a smooth night's sailing across the normally raging Bass Strait, arriving to crystalline Spring morning in Melbourne...