The Canadian-born Moffat was the subject of a state service at the Melbourne Town Hall having established himself as an Australian sporting legend who transcended motorsport.

Three famous cars flanked the stage – his beloved 1969 Coca-Cola Mustang, the 1977 Bathurst-winning Falcon and the 1987 World Touring Car Championship race-winning Rothmans Commodore.

Racer turned Supercars broadcaster Mark Larkham hosted the service, detailing the legend’s rise from amateur racer to four-time Bathurst-winning Ford hero.

Larkham underlined Moffat’s reputation as a hard working and intensively dedicated driver who raised the professional standard in Australian motorsport.

“He just did more than everyone and he dragged the whole game with him,” he said. “To this day he can take a lot of credit for what the game has become.”

Larkham also noted Moffat’s pole position, podium and race win strike rates outrank all other stars in Australian Touring Car/Supercars Championship history.

Neil Crompton spoke via video message while in the United States, struggling to hold back emotion when describing an interaction the year after Moffat’s 2019 diagnosis with Alzheimer’s disease.

“At John Harvey’s funeral, he was still bright and happy,” said Crompton. “He recognised me and told me that he loved me. And it’s mutual. He was a special person in my life, somebody that I’ll never forget.”

Long-time friend Andrew Wilson changed the mood with somewhat of a roast, describing Moffat as a “terrible driver” on the roads and an all-round “ratbag”.

Former Moffat PR and friend Phillip Christensen, driver Charlie O’Brien and journalist Mark Fogarty also shared stories of their experiences with the icon.

Fogarty delved into the complexity of Moffat’s character, having experienced the “brusk, almost rude” man at the track during the height of his career and the cheeky, dry-witted charm away from it.

“He was a riddle, wrapped up in a mystery inside an enigma,” said Fogarty, quoting a famous phrase from Winston Churchill. “You sometimes didn’t know what you were going to get.”

Fogarty also leaned into the running joke of Allan having a fun-loving twin brother Arthur – a story born out of there being no other explanation for his changes in character.

Son Andrew Moffat gave the deepest insights into the man behind the legend, including the philosophies passed on to himself and James.

“He had high standards and expectations, and was always full of advice,” said Andrew. “With Allan, whether you were his child, friend or a stranger, you always knew where you stood.”

Life philosophies revolved around the importance of preparation, reputation, willpower, mindset, creating your own opportunities and making the most of them.

James became a professional driver in his own right, while Andrew also dabbled in racing before focusing on a career as a school teacher and now principal.

“He never wanted James or me to race, but was very supportive,” Andrew said. “His advice on racing was clear, you need to be more obsessed than everyone else if you want to win.”

Andrew recalled memories of his father’s workshop at Malvern Road, Toorak, which Moffat kept into the mid-2010s – long after his race team had ceased operations.

He described the place as a time capsule, with Moffat the “oldest of the old school” who refused to use a computer, despite sponsorship from Apple!

There were also anecdotes about Moffat’s love of language, both sophisticated and otherwise, a well-known weakness for ice cream and cakes, and even a secret affinity for Abba.

Moffat was also remembered as a creature of habit, having lived for some 65 years within the same two-block radius that also included his famous workshop.

There was reference to two lesser-known favourite Moffat cars too – a 1982 Mazda 323 wagon that served as the race team runabout, and later a Gulf War Hummer he restored and drove on the street.

Andrew was one of several to thank those who looked after the legend during the difficult recent years as dementia took hold.

Fellow racers Larry Perkins and Fred Gibson were among them, as well as friend and carer, Phil Grant.

“He had a magnificent life,” concluded Andrew of his father, who died on November 22, aged 86.

“He did it all himself. He lived like no one else. He was going to be the best, and he was going to do it his way.

“There were many versions of Allan Moffat, but to me, it was just my dad.

“We’ve barely scratched the surface on a unique and wonderful life. So many people have so many memories. Please keep them alive.”