With so many different races scheduled throughout the day, the paddocks would always have something to look around. Whatever you wanted, it was there. 1960s GT racing? Of course. Pre-War Alfa Romeos? Absolutely. Vintage Formula 1 cars? Come right this way.
Each of the machines carried with it their own team of caretakers. Those who would patiently and methodically serve the car. When the announcement would come over the tannoy that these machines were being called to the staging area, you could feel the energy around you change. It became even more electric.
On the track, the atmosphere totally changed. From the easy-paced tide of the paddocks to a torrent of energy and excitement. As the various engines from decades of motorsport gone by were let loose on the 2.4-mile circuit, you could feel the history bounce of any surface that dare stood in its way.
Watching a group of priceless vintage machines barrel into the first corner. 1,2,3 and sometimes 4 wide into the tricky left-hander of Madgwick on the run into Fordwater. Then the track changes. Vast sweeps and bends that makeup St Mary’s before getting the power down in just the right place to get you slung into Lavant and the straight beyond.
Some get it right. Others however get it wrong. The exit has to be millimetre perfect for these bygone racers, one tyre on the slick grass could spell disaster for their chances. A Mustang runs wide on the exit and gets onto the green, spitting it left into the tyre wall before the turn into Woodcote. But, the engine doesn’t cut out. He’s held the clutch in. Within a second of coming to a standstill, the American racer pops into gear and spins around wildly on the rough. The driver aims the now crumpled and torn front of the car towards the track and with one almighty move, he rejoins the circuit. Eager to hunt down his position and the man he feels responsible.
Historic racing is made up of many of these moments. Victory from the jaws of defeat, triumph not over but with the machinery. And the only place that truly encompasses all of this is glorious Goodwood.
October 19, 2021 11:06 amPublished by Craig Ranson
Much like the day before, the team at Bridge Classic Cars arrived early at Goodwood.
The sun had barely crested the horizon by the time the stand was open. The sun managed to break over one side of the circuit to illuminate the far paddocks. The pre-war cars took full advantage of the bright, amber glow of an autumn morning.
But, there was much more of a spectacle happening right in front of our stand. The off-road wonders were being prepared for the final sessions of the Super Stages that morning. These dirt based heroes of yesteryear prepared to go head to head against the clock one last time. Some though would end up paying a price in the pursuit of victory.
Lurking just at the top of the hill through the main tunnel at Goodwood, lay a group of beasts that only the mention of their name is enough to inspire fear to anyone wanting to challenge them and awe in the hearts of those who follow them.
The legend that is the Ford GT40. Known the world over for their dominance in period as endurance racers, Goodwood is probably their 2nd most famous home as here, they truly do own the circuit. This years Members Meeting saw 2 handfuls of these low, sleek and elegant heavy-hitters pound the tarmac in search of prey during the Gurney Cup.
To see one of these icons is a speechless moment but to see several being worked on and dismantled in various stages was more than any true petrolhead could have wished for. Every component perfectly on display for the world to see. Then, it was time for them to all hit the track and find out, who truly was in charge.
As the sun gained some strength and the air grew warmer, the paddocks also grew in size and commotion. The further you delved into the rows of priceless vintage racing machinery, the more there was to find.
Nestled away against the back row were a fine selection from our neighbours over at Historika, with a long bonnet 911 race car in nearly every conceivable colour. But, when you looked around. My word were there sights to behold.
The copper E Type lay dormant in the misty morning air. Its numbers emblazoned on its handmade, vast bonnet the only giveaway that this big cat was unlike the others in the car park. It’s other stablemates shared its single-mindedness. A plethora of vintage racing machines like the TVR, Morgans, a C2 Corvette and one of the most beautiful cars to have ever been created. The Ferrari 275GTB.
Mere hours later, they would all be at war just meters from where they now slept.
It couldn’t possibly be an outdoor British event without the heavens well and truly opening. The rain was torrential. No square inch of tarmac from Fordwater, St Marys and the chicane was safe. The perfect time to send out the V8s…
As the Americans invaded the English countryside, the rain began to fall lighter. Giant puddles had appeared in every braking zone, every apex and every opportunity for speed. However, this didn’t stop the iron leviathans. The 7-litre Galaxies barely noticed the slick and twitchy track. A healthy offering of torque and opposite lock allowed them to slide gracefully through the chicane and out towards the start/finish line. Eager to join in were the smaller Mustangs and Falcons as well as the lone gold Studabaker which brought the fight to the Blue Oval.
Whilst this ballet of power and noise played out for its baying crowd, the circuit began to dry. The cars would find the grip just at the wrong moments only to be followed by a greasy patch or an inconveniently placed puddle to spit them towards the slick, sodden grass and the wall beyond.
Some met their fate in that practice session. Others would have their hopes built that morning..
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