There are more than a few stories beneath the hoods of the three rare cars parked in a workshop out the back of a house in the small Central Otago town of Ophir.
Sure, one could focus solely on the one-of-a-kind 1934 Bugatti Gangloff Roadster Type 57, the 1907 Sizaire et Naudin and the 1904 Humber Humberette. Certainly, they are interesting enough vehicles. But it's perhaps better to approach the machines as one would a magnifying lens, portals to the life of their intriguing former owner.
Bob Turnbull died in 2012 at the age of 82. He'd never married, had no long-term partners, nor left behind any children. Yet he's left a legacy; memories and tales of a mechanical engineer who had a mind as strong as the blocks of steel with which he played.
''A genius,'' one friend says.
''A legend,'' says a former colleague, who compared Turnbull's abilities with those of the late John Britten, the New Zealand mechanical engineer best known for his radical motorcycle designs.
''Reclusive and shy,'' another says.
That last description is probably a good reason why Turnbull's accomplishments have rarely appeared in print, outside the occasional mention in publications that have more to do with vintage cars (and their passionate owners) than the inner workings of one man.
Yet a recent book on Canterbury company Hamilton Jet, written by John Walsh, credits Turnbull with developing a key element in the firm's jet propulsion units,- a twin-ducted reversing mechanism now used worldwide. Founded by sheep farmer-turned-engineer Sir William Hamilton, Hamilton Jet might be synonymous with fast boats, but it is the water-jet propulsion system itself that has led the company's success, its range of units used around the world, from naval and coastguard patrol boats to fast ferries.
Keith Whitely, managing director of the company, recalls Turnbull was a ''talented design engineer'' who did a lot of work around hydraulics.
''He was a quiet, retiring sort of chap. I think he made a pretty reasonable contribution to the company over the years ... He also designed a `1031' jet unit, which was aimed at the shallow-draft fishing boat market in New Zealand.''
Raised in Galloway, near Alexandra, Turnbull began work at C.W.F. Hamilton (Hamilton Jet's parent company) in 1955, living in Christchurch and working for the company until 1985, when he retired and subsequently moved back to Central Otago, settling into a house he'd bought years before in Ophir.
Thankfully, Turnbull documented some of his achievements, a collection of notes he typed in 1987 disclosing aspects of his work history: ''In the earlier period (1955-1970), I designed oil hydraulic equipment as well as doing design work on earthmoving equipment, the manufacture of hydro scheme gates and lifting cylinders, concrete agitator trucks etc.
''Work in the later period (1970-1985) included aluminium barges for Papua New Guinea, large hydraulic cylinders for the Auckland Harbour Board, and a mobile crane; but was mainly on marine jet propulsion units for commercial boats such as the Papua New Guinea barges and fishing boats ...
''A small hydraulic pump designed in 1958, which was produced for 25 years, a large jet unit with an impeller diameter of 420mm and the mobile crane are the machines which pleased me most. The jet unit won an award in a competition for inventors run by UDC in 1981.''
A former draughtsman for C.W.F. Hamilton, George Calder, who had a close working relationship with Turnbull, says the mechanical engineer was ''very fussy and very talented''.
''In fact, he reminded me of John Britten in regards his ability to think completely outside the square,'' Calder reflects.
''He never considered what other people had done. He always operated on first principles. He had this amazing mathematical brain that could work out anything.''
In an obituary on Turnbull in the Vintage Car Club of New Zealand's magazine, Beaded Wheels, Calder writes: ''Ophir suited Bob's bachelor lifestyle and he just seemed to love the remoteness and solitude of the place.
''He never had a telephone or many other modern home appliances for that matter. Communication was done the old-fashioned way by writing letters which came with many pages, in tiny print, written on both sides, and if he had run out of paper he would often write extra notes sideways up the margins!''Speaking from Picton while on holiday recently, Calder says Turnbull was a very quiet man who lived a solitary life.
''He was very shy in front of women. In some ways he was quite difficult to approach.
''He retired when he was in his mid-50s, I think, because he thought he had enough money to keep him going. He certainly didn't like spending much.
''However, the Government changed the age of retirement to 65 so he had to wait a few more years until he got super. Still, he could live on the smell of an oily rag until he got the pension.
John Loudon, who first met Turnbull in the late 1980s through the Central Otago branch of the Vintage Car Club of New Zealand, likens his friend to an old Walt Disney comic character, Gyro Gearloose.
''He was always doing things out of the ordinary. His mind was terrific, really.
''Everything had to be done according to a theory. He was marvellous at doing drawings of designs he wanted,'' the Alexandra man says, adding Turnbull wasn't a regular attendee at club meetings, ''because his cars were never reliable enough''.
''In saying that, once he got the old Sizaire running well, he went two winters and summers driving from Ophir to Alex to get his groceries.
''Bob was a very private person. It took a long time to get to know him.
''He wouldn't let you into his workshop until he got to know you ... and at that stage, you couldn't move in that workshop. It was something out of the ordinary.''
Ophir resident Pete Brabant, who befriended Turnbull after a chance meeting in the main street of the town about 15 years ago, was one of those who did eventually get invited into that shed.
''People in town knew where Bob lived but no-one got invited and they didn't invite him to their places. That's how he liked it. The only time you'd see him was when he'd drive down the road or when he went to the post office next door to get his mail.
''I'd been told about this shed. There are plenty of people who want to get in, still,'' says Brabant who, with wife Julz, looked after Turnbull as his health progressively failed following a series of heart attacks.
On Mr Turnbull's death, all assets were transferred to the Bob Turnbull Charitable Trust, of which Brabant is a trustee. Late last year the trust gave out grants to 11 groups in the Ophir-Omakau area.
''Bob's instructions were, `Pete, finish the cars, use them and enjoy them, and when you're ready, find a good home,'' Brabant said, referring to a collection that includes a one-of-a-kind 1934 Bugatti Gangloff Roadster Type 57.
Bought by Turnbull in 1958 for 475, Bob Turnbull in his Ophir workshop with the 1934 Bugatti Gangloff Roadster Type 57. He was one of those guys who always worked into the early hours; he didn't keep sociable hoursIan RietveldOn showThe late Bob Turnbull's collection of cars, featuring a one-of-a-kind 1934 Bugatti Gangloff Roadster Type 57, a 1907 Sizaire et Naudin and a 1904 Humber Humberette, will be on show at the Omakau A&P Show today.
In that big shed out the back of the Ophir house, now the property of the Bob Turnbull Charitable Trust and occupied by Brabant and his wife, there are insights into other aspects of the life of its former owner.
An old bike, complete with wooden rims, hangs on a wall, prompting the retelling of a story that came to light at Turnbull's funeral.
''Bob had borrowed a book from a Dunedin couple and one night he turned up on a bike at 5pm to return the book. Declining the offer to `come in', Bob biked back to Ophir,'' Brabant says.
That oft-noted shyness possibly had its roots in Turnbull's early years.
Born in Alexandra in 1930, Turnbull was a twin. (His brother, Bill, is alive but in poor health, living in England.)Raised on a 17ha farm at Galloway, near Alexandra, which their parents, Alistair ''Bill'' Stuart Turnbull and Mary (nee Thompson), bought in the late 1920s, the boys had to deal with the death of their mother in 1937. Then, having already had a succession of housekeepers for three years, their father was called up for action in World War 2, an aunt arriving to look after the boys and the farm.
On his return in 1943, the boys' father sold the farm and sank everything into their education.
''Primary school started for us at Galloway until the school was closed in 1942, then Alexandra Primary and District High until 1946 and Otago Boys High until 1948,'' Turnbull wrote.
''From 1949 to 1953 I completed a mechanical engineering degree in Christchurch as did my brother.
''The choice of engineering was probably made by my father but it suited our interest in mechanical things and we did not consider other occupations ...
''Access to machine shop equipment and a knowledge of design assisted our hobby of motorcars, initiated by the gift to us of the first car in Alexandra while we were at school there,'' Turnbull wrote, referring to the 1904 Humber Humberette.
First owned by Ngapara gold-dredge master Robert Ross, of Alexandra, the Humberette (named Josephine by the Ross family) bears the registration number D295, the D standing for Dunedin where it was registered. In 1946, Mr Ross' widow gave the vehicle to the Turnbull family, much to the delight of the twin boys. Then aged 16, they restored the car and it remained in the ownership of Bob Turnbull until his death.
Photos of Turnbull in his younger days show a good-looking, tall man; broad-shouldered, with a big mop of dark hair, he is often captured roaring along a street in one of his beloved cars.
George Calder recalls Turnbull's combination of ingenuity and expertise:'' ... During the 1972 International Rally [driving the Sizaire], an inlet valve broke just as he arrived in Wanaka. The next day Bob managed to find another valve, large enough to modify, in a derelict engine at the local sawmill. He proceeded to work all night and machine the valve to size in a borrowed lathe and reassemble it into the engine. By then he was a day behind the rally schedule so he drove non-stop and did 580km in 11 hours to catch up with the rally at Westport.
''The Sizaire was his motoring life, not just for events. He did many major private trips and often used the car for everyday transport, which created huge amounts of goodwill for the old car movement,'' Calder recalls.
''One private trip of note was to have the Sizaire loaded on to the Earnslaw at Queenstown as deck cargo, using the steam winch, of course, and then being off-loaded at Mt Nicholas Station. He took enough provisions for a week of back-country motoring, eventually emerging near Mossburn, Southland.''
Omakau engineering workshop owner Ian Rietveld remembers that car - and Turnbull - well.
''You could hear his car, this Sizaire, coming from miles away.
''He was a real character. He'd pop in three or four times a month and potter around and quiz us or grab some manuals on welding.
''When we bought the firm, it had some pretty basic machining gear. But Bob had actually used this really antiquated milling machine at the workshop to build a crankshaft for his Bugatti. It was incredible,'' Rietveld says.
''The first time I met him, he showed me the crankshaft. Now, I'm a machinist by trade and I would never have dreamed of building something like that on that particular machine. He was a very talented man.
''The amount of knowledge he had was incredible. He was one of those guys who always worked into the early hours; he didn't keep sociable hours. The only time you'd see him in the morning was when he had a problem that was really pestering him or he needed something done.
''He would pop in and look at some of the jobs we were doing and make suggestions that would be a Rolls-Royce solution when the farmer might have only wanted a Morris Minor job, if you know what I mean.''
In an imperfect world, it seems Turnbull sought solace in precision.
And though notes he wrote towards the end of his life reveal his attention to detail (''... front springs extremely stiff . . .''), some things just can't be fixed, even by a ''legend'' engineer.
Brabant recalls Turnbull's last words:''Bob said to me, `well, I think I've run out of time. And the thing that annoys me the most is the fact I can't do much about it'.''
