While perhaps playing second fiddle to the higher-profile Festival of Speed, the Revival is a more apt reflection of Goodwood’s history, given that it includes racing around the circuit rather than just demonstrations up the hill climb. Dave Manning makes his first visit.
Having previously only been to Goodwood to photograph feature bikes within the grounds, I had never been there when either of the large events were taking place, nor when it was crammed full of humanity. The latter was the real reason why I’d not attended the former, as while I have been known to be something of a social butterfly at times, I’m not actually a great fan of being stuck in crowds, something that has become more apparent of late, particularly postCovid. But, with an industry shindig dumping me at the gate of Goodwood early on the Saturday of the Revival weekend, I had little choice but to explore and find out what the fuss was all about…
At risk of sounding a little like a grumpy bah-humbug character, I’m also at a bit of a loss as to why folk feel the need to play pretend when they’re grown adults. Fancy dress is all well and good, but if you must go to the trouble and expense of hiring flash tweeds or military garb for a weekend, then we are different kinds of people. Having said that, the level of detail that many visitors had put in to look ‘right’ is impressive, all seemingly able to fit into the event’s time periods of the 1940s and 1950s, some stretching it into the 1960s
[to be fair to those folk, the Goodwood track hosted race meetings until 1966… Ed], and very few of those in attendance wearing modern clothing. I wonder if many actually wear their ‘costumes’ at any other time than Goodwood?
But that’s irrelevant. The vibe was perfect and entirely fitting not only to the venue (which is immaculately maintained and kept in a period style), but also to the vehicles being displayed and raced, and to the entertainment laid on. Music to suit, both played live by musicians and blasted out of speakers in areas like the food stalls and even a ladies’ hairdressers (!), hundreds of folk relaxed on the grass with picnics (from appropriate wicker baskets, of course), and there was a general feel of being transported back more than 60 years. Odd but brilliant.
While there are only two motorcycle races over the
weekend, there are practice sessions held on the Friday, and while each and every rider was taking it as seriously as any racer takes any race, the feeling is that it’s not the winning that really matters, but the taking part – which is probably why the selection of bikes being raced is so varied and so eclectic. If it was all about winning, then it would just be a field of Vincent V-twins…
Bikes varied in age from the pair of supercharged Kompressor BMW machines from the 1920s to the winning 1954 Vincent Black Shadow, ridden by Ben Kingham and British Superbikes racer Josh Brookes. The ‘Exhaust note of the day’ award had to go to the 1956 Black Eagle Racing fourcylinder 500cc Gilera.
Having an open pit area means you can truly get up close and personal with the bikes and the riders, while the limited area that each team has, plus the necessity for all team members to wear appropriate clothing, gives an idea of what it must have been like to wander around the paddock of the ‘Continental Circus.’
But be careful to not spend too much time with the bikes because the event is truly massive, and to see everything on display is near impossible in just one day.
I didn’t get to see the crashed UFO (yes, really), nor the replication of the iconic picture of the Booze Fighters in Hollister in 1947 that inspired the Marlon Brando and Lee Marvin film, The Wild One. Nor did I get chance to look at all the Austin Sevens on display (there were hundreds of the little buggers!) or properly look at all of the Supermarine Spitfires that had flown in, or any of the dozens of trade stalls in attendance either!
My advice – go for the full weekend!
[Photo by PA]
Riders race for their machines at the start of the Barry Sheene Memorial Trophy race.
The Thor motorcycle was built in Aurora, Illinois, a city that for many people is better known as the location of the 1992 comedy film Wayne’s World. Excellent.
“Hello? Derek? Yeah. You’ll never guess what’s been left out the front of the furniture shop…”
Claus Clausen, rather appropriately wearing earplugs, before he takes to the seat of the 1926 version of the Kompressor BMW. Appropriate? Yes. While warming up the bike in the pits, a scrutineer happened to call by with a sound meter. The result was 131.5dB…
As tempting as it must be to spend a few afternoons polishing this Triumph, doesn’t it look just perfect as it is?
A simulation of a BMW workshop/showroom of the 1930s, complete with time-appropriate advertising posters, workbench and oil stains.
The 1928 Rudge Ulster was among the older bikes being ridden at the Revival and found it struggled a little against newer bikes thanks to a rigid frame and girder forks. Not that riders Jenny Tinmouth and Mike Farrall were complaining!
A line of deeply desirable American motorcycles. I only want one. Just one. Surely no one would notice?
While these workshops were only temporary, there just for the weekend, I found them fascinating and full of interesting machines – and parts of machines…
This Manx Norton, as ridden by Alan Cathcart, is ostensibly a 1952 model, although as with many bikes in the Goodwood Revival, there’s very little ’52 actually left.
Piloted by the duo of Glen English and Roger Ashby, this is one very clean Triumph T110, and while the sign in the pits says it’s a ’54 model, the programme lists it as a 1952 (rather surprisingly, as the T110 was only available from 1954…)
Dual racing four-wheelers of rather different stature. In the foreground is what is badged as a Grafton, powered by a JAP side valve single, being dwarfed by an Austin... which is far from a large car itself!
If there was one bike I could have squeezed into my bag and taken home, it was this glorious Henderson – not least thanks to the fascinating history of the breed and the place it played in the prewar American motorcycle industry.
With a large number of aeroplanes flying into Goodwood for the weekend, and several of them being classic commercial planes, there would always be some appropriately dressed flight attendants.
All types of period-correct transportation are allowed at Goodwood, although the young chap in the background clearly didn’t see the memo about dress code. Doesn’t he look strangely out of place because of his modern attire?
This DKW shows a more flamboyant approach to design than pretty much all of the British bikes that utilised a similar powerplant.
Sunshine, flat caps, and motorcycles. And a Turner ByVan to scrutinise. Perfect.
I wonder how many Spitfire pilots rode side valve Beezas? I would have thought that they’d choose something a little more, err, sporting.
And to the winner, the spoils! Laurel leaf garlands should be the trophy for all races, don’t you think?
“Right, get off, it’s my turn for a go!” Herbert Schwab persuades Eugene Laverty to swap places on the 1929 supercharged BMW R57.
This delightfully tarnished Rudge and chair was in the area that demonstrates restoration workshops. To my eye, it needs very little in the way of actual restoration!
This immaculate Manx from 1952 was ridden by Sam Clews and Peter Hickman, and was originally in the programme as number 8 but mysteriously headed on to the track as number 90…
You can see where BMW gained some of the inspiration for its recent R18 retro cruiser when you take a look at just one of its bikes from the 1920s.
The Clausen/Resch R57 Kompressor in mid-fettle, after it cracked a frame tube in Friday’s practice session, subsequently shearing components in the rear hub at the start of the first race.
Casually parked around a corner as though it shouldn’t really be there, this Rudge-Whitworth shows signs of being used on a regular basis. And quite right too.
Restoring vehicles while wearing crisp white shirts? You, gentlemen, are clearly mad…
This nine-cylinder radial engine is a Salmson AD9, manufactured under licence (from the French company Société des Moteurs Salmson) in Britain during the late 1920s and 1930s. It makes 40bhp – enough to power the 1929 Klemm it’s fitted to up to a heady 55mph!
A dapper Jeremy McWilliams wonders to himself: “Who’s that scruffy urchin with the camera?”
“After I’ve finished these chips it’ll be chocks away, chaps!”