Gold in Their Veins

The haze always comes first. A fine mist of exhaust and unburnt fuel hangs in the air like a veil, stinging eyes and catching in the throat as engines cough to life across the Perth Motorplex pits.

The sound rolls in waves — thunderous bursts from neighbouring cars, the sharper crack of a burnout further down, a symphony of impatience as teams rush to line up for their next run.

Amid the smoke and static, two slender dragsters gleam under the low afternoon sun — one black and bright gold, the other Warwick yellow and black, sharp as blades. Their drivers, sisters Gabriella and Skarlett Dolan, move through the scene with practised composure, the hum of engines forming the rhythm of their childhood. They are the heart of GoldenChild Racing — a family team that turns heads not with volume, but with grace.

Gabriella — or Gabstar, as her friends call her — is fourteen, tall and composed, every inch the seasoned racer. She moves around her car with easy confidence, checking tyre pressures, topping the fuel, eyes narrowing as she studies the staging lanes ahead. Her hair — naturally wild with waves, straightened and plaited for the race weekend — catches the golden light as she laughs quietly at something her younger sister says. The lingering humidity has already teased a few loose strands free from their confinement, haloing her face with flyaways that seem to shimmer against the haze.

Nearby, twelve-year-old Skarlett — “Skally-Wags” — stands by her newly painted helmet, the black Monaro-style stripe across the top matching the one that runs down her dragster. Her expression is thoughtful, focused; she has always been the quieter of the two, but no less fierce.

They could be mistaken for any sisters — teasing and giggling — if not for the crew uniforms, fire-suits and the scent of methanol in the air.

Both grew up in this world. Their mother, Michelle, has been part of drag racing in Western Australia since her late teens, crewing for the gold 1959 Penrite Plymouth Fury that dominates the pit bay. Their father, Cameron, works on the same car — the two long separated but unwavering in their shared commitment to giving their daughters the best life possible.

Michelle’s partner, former Doorslammer racer Ryan Moresby, is very much part of that circle of support too. His experience behind the wheel adds another layer of racing knowledge in the girls’ world, blending seamlessly into the co-parenting rhythm that has helped shape the grounded, capable young women they are becoming.

For Skarlett, the journey started in that familiar way — from watching others.
“Mum helped out with the Juniors, then Gabby started racing, and I said yes,” she recalls, her voice soft but certain. “From being around race cars ever since I can remember, I used to be jealous of everyone who raced. It looked really fun.”

When she finally got her turn, the thrill was instant.
“It feels like adrenaline — nerve-wracking, fun, adventurous, thrilling,” she says, searching for the right combination of words, as if one isn’t quite enough.

Her favourite memory is from the first time she made a final.
“It was my dream to make it that far,” she smiles. “It filled me with a sense of achievement.”

“It was challenging at my very first Junior Nationals,” she remembers of her recent trip to Mildura. “On the second day, we did pro trees — that’s what all the bigger cars use. The light comes up much faster.” She grins, slightly sheepish but proud. “The first race I did, I didn’t expect it to go that quick, and I ran a point-seven light.”

In drag racing, that number means everything.
“In bracket racing, you want the best reaction time in the race — nothing over two-tenths of a second,” she explains with the calm precision of someone who studies her craft. “Anything more could cost you the win.”

There’s an emerging maturity in the way she speaks — measured, deliberate, always trying to get it right. She talks about reaction times and fuel loads with the same calm focus as a veteran, yet she still lights up when describing the downtime between runs.

“We just hang out between races — talk, laugh, and keep an eye on the schedule,” she says with a small smile.

Her car holds 1.5 litres of fuel, she explains, the oil changed every six runs.
“We use four hundred millilitres of oil. And we clean the cars before every second race.”

It’s all part of the ritual — that blend of discipline and joy that defines her.

Across the pit, Gabriella is both mirror and contrast. At fourteen, she’s the more outgoing of the two — confident in front of a camera or a crowd.
“I took my first steps at this track,” she says, going on to explain how she started her racing career. “Mum put a post up that I wanted to start racing, and Peter Townsend replied saying he had a car available. Without Pete, I wouldn’t have started — it kind of took off from there.”

She laughs when she remembers being scared at first, when the conversations about racing Juniors began at eight years old.
“When I was ten, I finally started racing. It feels fast — pretty quick — especially that first run after a long break. Then it just feels right again.”

Her first win still feels vivid.
“It was the last meeting of the season — I won it on a holeshot,” she says, explaining patiently, the tone of someone used to decoding jargon for curious spectators. “Even though I wasn’t closest to my dial-in, my light was faster. That’s what made it cool.”

But her story isn’t just about results.
There’s depth in her reflection — a young woman learning to navigate pressure in a high-performance world.
“I’m quite harsh on myself,” she admits. “It started affecting how much fun I was having. I went to a sports psychologist and learnt techniques to reset my mindset. Now I focus on telling myself the right things. It’s a silent battle, but it’s helping.”

Gabriella also draws inspiration from the people around her — from her parents, from Michelle’s years on the tools, and from Ryan, whose time racing a Doorslammer gives her a glimpse into the intensity of the categories she hopes to reach. His stories from the start line, the pressure and the precision, offer her another thread of knowledge to weave into her own growing ambitions.

“There were over fifty cars at Junior Nationals,” Skarlett says. “It was new for me — we usually only run the first eighth of a quarter-mile track, so you’ve got to lift off at the six-sixty mark. But in Mildura, we ran the whole track. The finish line was right in front of you instead of a flag halfway down. It felt so fast.”

They’d flown in with Michelle, while Glen Van Dongen — Demi’s dad — hauled the Junior Dragsters across the country to meet them there. For Skarlett and Gabriella, it was a first taste of travelling for the sport, and everything about it felt bigger — the drive-by smell of burnt rubber, the heat shimmering off the bitumen, the adrenaline of running flat out all the way to the lights.

If Gabriella is the strategist and Skarlett the heart, together they form the perfect rhythm — one pushing forward, the other grounding. Their good-natured banter fills the space between them.

“I give you tips,” Gabby teases.
“Your tips don’t end up working,” Skarlett fires back, her grin quick and mischievous.
“They did last time!” Gabby protests — and they both dissolve into soft giggles, the easy kind that needs no explanation.

The Dolans grew up surrounded by the rhythm of racing — the clang of tools, the pulse of engines, the laughter that rolled across the pits between runs. Their world has always been bigger than one family; it’s a network of mentors and mates who blur the lines between friendship and kin. Mark and Garry Chapman have been there for as long as the girls can remember — fixtures of their weekends, guiding hands and steady voices beneath the noise.

The pits have always felt like home. When they speak of family, it’s with unforced affection — not just for Michelle and Cameron, but for the crews and friends who’ve become part of their story.
“My parents, definitely,” Gabby says. “I couldn’t have done this without them. Even some of the other racers’ parents have helped a lot. It’s like an extended family here.”

The atmosphere in the pits shifts as the sun dips lower. The haze thickens — exhaust mingling with sea breeze — and the track takes on that golden glow that gives the Motorplex its magic. The grass gleams greener, the sky deepens to cobalt. Somewhere, a crew fires up an engine and the roar fills the air, uniting the teams in shared anticipation. Some hustle to the staging lanes; others lean against trailers, pretending to wait patiently as adrenaline twitches beneath their calm.

Through it all, the Dolan sisters are unhurried. They’ve learnt that rhythm from their mother — to be both composed and ready, potential coiled beneath the surface. Gabriella wipes her hands, satisfied with the final check. Skarlett settles her helmet, tucking the last loose strand of hair away before drawing on her gloves. She glances up, eyes crinkling as she smiles. In the half-light they look almost ethereal — two silhouettes framed in gold.

Later, when the noise has faded and the pits are quieter, Michelle moves among them again. The gold nails, the Chanel earrings, the hint of glitter across her lashes — all still immaculate despite the day’s chaos. She carries a tray of homemade sausage rolls to the crew, laughing as she nudges one towards Cameron. It’s a small act, but it encapsulates everything: warmth, care, and the instinct to nurture even in the most high-octane of worlds.

She’s done this for years — balanced beauty and grit, sequins and spanners — carving space for women to be seen in drag racing not as exceptions, but as part of its fabric. Once she was the young woman on the tools; now she’s the mentor, the mother, the matriarch of GoldenChild Racing. Her daughters’ quiet confidence is her real legacy — visible proof that strength doesn’t need to shout.

As the last light fades, Michelle leans against the pop-up shelter, watching her girls pack away their gear. The pits are bathed in the harsh buzz of the fluoros, the air still rich with the scent of rubber and fuel. Somewhere out near the water, the wind shifts, carrying with it the echo of engines and laughter.

She still remembers the day she took a turn behind the wheel of Gabriella’s dragster in Mildura. Only then did she truly grasp the speed — how quickly the car leaps from stillness to motion, how disciplined and controlled the girls have to be.
“After jumping in Gabriella’s dragster myself, and seeing how fast they’re actually going and how disciplined and controlled the kids have to be, it gives me a whole different perspective and respect for what these kids actually do,” she says.

From the stands, the Junior Dragsters can look small, almost slow as they disappear halfway down the strip. But inside the cockpit, it’s a different world — the finish line rushing toward you at highway speed, everything vibrating with precision and purpose.

That experience deepened her pride, but it also sharpened her sense of possibility.
“I’m excited for the potential for new women in the sport,” she explains, “especially being around it from such a young age, having the knowledge, understanding and passion to run a successful team. Not just running the team, but engaging with the social media, fans and the crowd — building up the life skills to help them with their careers.”

She glances toward her daughters, now laughing as they coil cords and wipe down helmets.
“Ideally I want to do it myself — we do have a car for me to race — but the focus is on the girls. And because we don’t have a track here in Perth this season, we’re travelling to Tailem Bend, Willowbank and Darwin for Nitro Up North. The goal is to get the girls to as many national events as possible, to get seat time and race on as many tracks as they can.”

The words come with quiet conviction.
“If I have to take the back seat to let them chase their dreams, that’s the mum’s job.”

At fourteen, Gabriella dreams of driving a Top Doorslammer, and one day, Top Fuel. Skarlett smiles at the mention of her father’s HK Monaro, content in her own golden lane. Around them, their family — Michelle, Cameron, and Ryan — form a quiet, steady circle of support, each playing a different but equally important role in the girls’ journey. Michelle watches her daughters, pride and contentment softening her face.
“Being able to give them those opportunities,” she says, “that’s all I can ask for.”

In the cooling night, the Dolans’ pit glows faintly under the gold paint and string lights — a small universe built on love, discipline, and the unspoken promise of tomorrow — proof that the future of drag racing shines brightest in family hands.