My partner and I have been following the car in front of us — a 1967 Shelby Mustang GT-500 — from Sea Point in Cape Town.
Our silver 1969 Mercedes-Benz 280 SL has been keeping its distance, never getting too close to the Detroit bruiser’s back bumper. But now here we sit, flanked by the palm trees and tourists and chic restaurants of Camps Bay, at the traffic lights, separated by less than a metre.
Our target lowers his aviators, throws a nonchalant glance at the rearview and, alerted to our presence, gooses the throttle in anticipation of a chase. As soon as the lights blink red to green, the Mustang sets off with a squat and a wiggle: those fat rear Hoosiers scrabbling for grip as the 7.0 V8 wrangles every last one of those 355 horses, maybe more, into action.
He gets the jump on us, bellows past a red tour bus before the next treacherous coastal hairpin bend and disappears in the direction of Llandudno in a loud cloud of burnt hydrocarbons.
While this might read like an excerpt from a cheap 1970s crime pulp, it’s actually the beginning of the 2026 Cape 1000, an annual grand touring rally that takes a sizable crew (65 cars in total) of well-heeled driving enthusiasts on a multi-day, 1,000 mile (1,600km) adventure around some of the most beautiful city boulevards and country byways the Western Cape has to offer. For added spice it throws in a few regularity stages and some non-competitive sporting events held on race tracks and/or closed-off roads.
Indeed, a splendid time is guaranteed for all — as it should considering the entry fee of R125,000 per team of two people sharing. Though to be fair, this does include hotel accommodation, limited mechanical support and all food, wine and entertainment.
I’m not paying a cent to enjoy the first day of action. Instead I’m riding with Car magazine editor Ian McLaren, who is commandeering this lovingly restored 280 SL which — according to the Hagerty UK online valuation calculator — could be worth anything between R1.9m and R3.2m.
It’s on loan to him from one of this year’s participants — a generous gent with many classics in his collection and a propensity for calling fellow male competitors “sportsman”.
Lady folk, depending on their age and status, are either “spring chicken” or “ray of sunshine”. Usually this wouldn’t go down all that well with the establishment, but here on the Cape 1000, currently enjoying a coffee break in a Miller’s Point parking lot, it’s all part of the pageantry.
And what pageantry it is.
During the first few hours, a slow mosey around the Cape Peninsula, the number of classic cars entered into this year’s event is nothing short of impressive. Sipping on my Americano in the misty sea air, I count about 25 in total.
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People are always going to have their personal favourites, but for me the standouts include a 1969 BMW 2002, 1967 MGB Roadster, 1973 Dino 246 GT and 1961 Porsche 356. These are joined by Porsche 911s and a wide range of Mercedes-Benz SL models of varying vintage. The public also seems to dig them, and whenever our convoy slithers to a halt at an intersection, it’s met by enthusiastic thumbs-up signs and/or whistles of approval.
High on the novelty of cruising around Sydney Lite in a piece of vintage machinery far exceeding my 42 years of accrued net worth, I lose track of time and am momentarily surprised when we pull into Kreeftebaai for lunch.
The organisers have pulled out all the stops with a pair of food trucks (gourmet burgers or macaroni and cheese, take your pick) flanked by a temporary outdoor lounge with a collection of white leather sofas that wouldn’t be out of place in some swish CBD nightclub. What a pity the wind isn’t playing ball as the South Easter sends beach sand, peak caps and the occasional clutch of French fries flying off in the direction of the Koeberg nuclear power station.
Fortunately, this growing irritation at Cape Town’s fickle weather system is tempered by our own private airshow.
From out of nowhere the space between ourselves and Robben Island is suddenly filled with three Extra EA-300 aerobatics planes that perform an aerial ballet that has even the most jaded onlookers whooping and clapping with appreciation. And why not? Flying wingtip to wingtip at high velocities in a howling gale — sometimes metres from the frigid Atlantic ocean — is a feat damn worth celebrating.
Fired up by this display of balls and bravado, the drivers of the rally’s more modern machinery — think 2023 Porsche 911 GT3 Touring, 2014 McLaren 650S Spider, 2009 Lamborghini Murcielago LP640 Roadster and Ferrari 812 Superfast — exit the lunch venue with maximum attack.
Traction control systems are neutered, clutch pedals, where applicable, dumped and exotic performance tyres made to squeal in tortured agony as a train of high-powered poster cars shriek their way in the direction of Yzerfontein.
From there it’s a flat-out high-speed burn to Malmesbury, followed by a languid cruise down the N7 back to Granger Bay and the promise of more food and some well-deserved beverages, especially for those of us who have been piloting older classics, aka sweatboxes, not equipped with modern amenities such as air conditioning.
There are worse places to get your T-shirt wet. For a 57-year-old car our 280 SL has handled day one like a champ, with its fuel-injected 2.8l in-line six never missing a beat in the 30-something degree heat.
It’s smooth, sonorous and imbued with enough handling chops to not — despite what the massive steering wheel might have you believe — feel like an overweight land yacht when navigated in the direction of Chapman’s Peak or Smitswinkel Bay. It’s marvellously comfortable too, those sculpted tan leather seats supporting and soothing your frame in equal measure.
McLaren has another three days in it, including tomorrow’s trek to George via Route 62 and Oudtshoorn. I can’t say I’m not a little bit envious.
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