pat on the back to Sevenoaks and District MC over their Crystal Palace sprint programme, which included half a page headed ‘What is a Sprint?’, explaining in the simplest terms about racing “from Point A to Point B”, as well as “why do the cars look so different?” Given that this event was aimed at a much more general public than we’re used to, many of them only stumbling across the cars during a visit to the park, I thought this was a perceptive move: it’s easy to forget that not everyone knows how motor sport works.
I learned that when I took my brother-in-law, who has as much interest in cars as the Queen has in gangsta rap, to Goodwood Revival. We found a good place to watch the start of the St Mary’s saloon race and seffled down. The flag fell, the pack screamed off and disappeared round Madgwick, and after a minute chaffing the b-in-I stood up and began collecting his belongings. Just then the field tore back into view through the chicane.
“Oh,” he said, looking surprised. “They go round again, do they?” A