After a test run to Red CentreNATS last year, Darwin lad Brad Stott had the itch for a serious road trip in his genuine HX Sandman, otherwise known as Saandee. So this year, he set out solo for five weeks, covering 14,000km. Here’s his story.
First published in the September 2025 issue of Street Machine
SAANDEE had spent 10 years collecting dust in a shed up in Humpty Doo when I got her. The 355 was done, the trans was toast, and there were dodgy backyard fixes everywhere. I called them ‘sins of the previous owners’.
Lucky for me, I had a stash of parts and half a brain to work with. The auto got ditched for a Supra five-speed conversion I had – I even found a handwritten note from Rod Hadfield in the bellhousing! My old man and I swapped in a 308 we’d built about 15 years back; we gave it a freshen-up, threw on a basic aftermarket EFI system, and that was that – Saandee was alive.
Once I hit the highway, all the stresses of life melted away. By day two, we’d already knocked over 1600 kays – arm out the window, music up, cruising down the Stuart Highway.
Things went south on day three. The sunrise over the desert was magic, but 30 minutes later, Saandee conked out without warning. The EFI was flashing an error and my stomach sank. After an hour of creative language, the fuel pump primed, and she fired up and limped back to civilisation. Dodgy wiring was the likely culprit, so I sprayed the shit out of every connector with carby cleaner. After that drama, she ran like a dream.
From there, we hit Adelaide – not only my birthplace, but Saandee’s as well. We cruised the Adelaide Hills, checked out the National Motor Museum, then kept moving.
I got an invite to join a convoy to Mildura for the Van Nationals, led by the legendary Dogman (SM, Jun ’15). Seven hours of scenic route late, we rolled into Van Nats to find over 200 vans camped up, with Saandee making it four Mint Julep HX Sandmans on site. The level of detail, paintwork, and passion among the gathered van nuts blew me away. Vanning’s far from dead – if anything, it’s thriving. Word is next year’s event is going to be massive.
Bathurst was next – couldn’t be this close and not cruise The Mountain! The hardest bit? The 60km speed limit!
From Bathurst to Newcastle, I copped a wild storm, and that night, while sleeping in the van, I discovered that Saandee’s rear door leaked like a sieve. The carpet was soaked, and I smelled like a damp dog for days.
After picking up a mate in Sydney, we headed to Ballarat for a roadside photoshoot with Scott from Texas Light Portraiture, a local photographer I’d followed for years. We did the shoot in the freezing cold, with truckies honking as they flew past – maybe at us, maybe at the van – but the photos were worth it.
Melbourne was just down the road, so we spent a few days there catching up with mates, before making a detour to Shepparton to visit the Museum of Vehicle Evolution (MOVE).
After 30 days on the road, I headed north, couch surfing along the way, eating leftovers, and experiencing one final wildcard – a pedicure in Bundaberg. My mate’s kid found nail polish that matched Saandee’s colour, so I leaned in. Why not?
By that stage, we’d cracked 10,000 kays. Saandee had picked up a few new rattles, but nothing worth worrying about. We powered through Longreach, Mount Isa, the NT, and finally, home.
Pulling into my driveway, I just sat there smiling. Forty days, nearly 14,000km, and all in a 50-year-old Aussie panel van.
Driving a classic like Saandee isn’t just about the destination. It’s about what happens between towns – the nods from strangers, the stories at servos, and that feeling you get when you hear that ol’ 308 roar.
