By the time we rolled out of Kiandra, the convoy felt different. Not calmer, just settled. Episode 1 had tried to kill us with heatstroke and fuel anxiety. Episode 2 had reminded us that alpine roads are religion. Episode 3 – this one’s about distance and rhythm.
That, and the slow unwinding of the Snowies as the landscape opened into the beating heart of regional NSW. The ghost town faded behind us as the BMW M4 Competition, Volkswagen Arteon R-Line, and Audi SQ5 Edition One pointed their noses north‑west.
The run into Talbingo is one of those stretches that feels engineered specifically to expose a car’s character. After some silly dirt road side treks, the M4 was first to show its hand. The descent demanded discipline.
From tight switchbacks, blind crests, and camber changes that could punish arrogance, the big coupe danced. The straight‑six barked through the trees, turbochargers spooling like they were inhaling the mountain air.
Alec, grinning like a kid who’d found the cheat codes, kept the BMW tidy but fast, the car’s rear‑drive balance making every corner feel like a conversation rather than a fight. Behind him, the Arteon R-Line was the quiet assassin.
Episode 2 had already proven its all‑wheel drive composure, but Talbingo sharpened the point. Andy threaded it down the mountain with surgical precision and toilet stops, no drama, no hesitation, just grip and poise.
If the M4 was theatre, the Arteon was engineering. And then there was Dylan’s SQ5, the rolling lounge room, with its now discovered mild-hybrid. It was the car you wanted to be in – stable, predictable and confident.
Talbingo Dam shimmered below us as the road flattened. The Snowies were behind us now. The plains ahead waited (after a fuel stop and cookies). The Snowy Mountains Highway gave way to rolling farmland, long straights, and wide‑open sweepers.
This was the kind of driving that rewards patience and punishes boredom. The convoy settled into a rhythm. By the time we reached the turn‑off toward Tumut and then Gundagai, the kilometres were melting away.
The heat returned, nothing like Episode 1’s scorched‑earth insanity, but enough to remind us that NSW in summer is always one bad decision away from chaos. The wind came with it, but fuel stops were planned this time. Lessons had been learned. Mostly.
The run through Cowra and Young was pure country‑town magic. Wide streets. Bakery smells. Locals giving the convoy that universal look of “what are these idiots up to?”. The roads between the towns were a surprise.
The M4 came alive again, carving through the bends. The Arteon stayed glued to the tarmac and the SQ5 became the king of overtakes. The Olympic Highway is a strange beast, with long straights and sudden bends.
There are patches of perfect tarmac followed by sections that feel like they were laid during a budget crisis. Then, after hours of farmland, strange roadside sculpture, fences, and the occasional rogue kangaroo, the horizon shifted.
Mount Panorama appeared. Even from a distance, Bathurst has a gravity to it. A pull. A presence. The kind of place that makes every Australian driver sit up a little straighter. We rolled into town late in the afternoon.
The convoy slowed. The chatter stopped. The cars, dusty and bug‑splattered, felt suddenly small. Episode 3 wasn’t about chaos or altitude or survival. It was about arrival – and a lap. We parked, engines ticking as they cooled.
Three Germans. Three drivers. One road trip. We headed to The Oxford for dinner, to unwind, relax and debrief. Tomorrow, a more sedentary task, taking in the wonder of the Bathurst Motor Racing Museum, ahead of a leisurely return to Sydney.
