Silverstone Classic, Summer 2018 …and ‘Future Nostalgia’?


Park Fermé FIA Masters Historic Sports Cars - © 2018, Classique Car Conduits

Park Fermé FIA Masters Historic Sports Cars - © 2018, Classique Car Conduits

Yamaha Race of Legends Motorcycles - © 2018, Classique Car Conduits

Yamaha Race of Legends Motorcycles - © 2018, Classique Car Conduits

Citroën H Van catering vehicle - © 2018, Classique Car Conduits

Citroën H Van catering vehicle - © 2018, Classique Car Conduits

1934 Aston Martin Mark II s/n D4/426/S - © 2018, Classique Car Conduits

1934 Aston Martin Mark II s/n D4/426/S - © 2018, Classique Car Conduits

1964 Porsche 356C - © 2018, Classique Car Conduits

1964 Porsche 356C - © 2018, Classique Car Conduits

1958-2018 Sixty Years of Touring Cars - © 2018, Classique Car Conduits

1958-2018 Sixty Years of Touring Cars - © 2018, Classique Car Conduits

1963 Aston Martin Project 214 copy, based on DB4GT/0195/R - © 2018, Classique Car Conduits

1963 Aston Martin Project 214 copy, based on DB4GT/0195/R - © 2018, Classique Car Conduits

 

It was somewhat ironic but, when initially arriving in the outer car parks at the Silverstone Grand Prix circuit, the first set of cars lined up in front of me were several brand new ‘director level’ substantially sized hatchbacks and a couple of equally gleaming over-engineered SUVs with rear passenger ‘Falcon-Wing’ double hinged doors, open to the elements, looking ready for takeoff. So, after signing in, collecting schedules, a programme and the coloured wristband to permit entrance over a couple of days, I headed back to the inaudible Teslas.

It was these which were commissioned in squadrons to transport drivers, officials, photographers, and the many hospitality purchasing customers, between the two Pit and Paddock complexes at either ends of the circuit and, for those of us who'd brought homemade refreshments, back to their own cars for something to eat and drink, later in the day.


© 2018, Classique Car Conduits

Only retrospectively did I realise I hadn't taken any pictures of such state-of-the-art Tesla vehicles, perhaps not surprising given they weren't classical or historic, though certainly worth further comment here. Electric vehicles, following in the footsteps of hybrids, seem to be taking a firm foothold in environmentally conscious Britain, but from this particular manufacturer they were certainly catering for only the top end of the market, given the prices ranged between £80,000 and £140,000.

With two other passengers, I entered the nearest car, at the driver’s invitation, imagining a rather sedate, yet whisperingly quiet, journey over to the Silverstone Wing, and its Media Centre. What struck me most of all about the interior, even from the rear compartment, was the enormous Sat-Nav screen between the front seats which doubled up as a multi-functioning computer. It was larger than A3, in standard paper sizes, comparable to the dimensions of the printed AA Road Atlases, which these generic devices have long since replaced. The second unusual occurrence, even before we set off, was our ‘pilot’ asking us all to lean back and firmly place the back of our heads right against the cushioned restraints, above each of our seats. A little surprised at the request we nonetheless obeyed, which was just as well as a couple of seconds later we seemed to be travelling at 50 miles per hour across the car park. Like a light switch, electrical power in a Tesla is either on or off, and when it was on, engaged by the driver’s right foot being mashed to the floor, acceleration was linear. No wonder we were given the instruction to brace our necks, and it made me wonder how many new Tesla drivers suffer the effects of serious whiplash within the first week of taking ownership. It appeared our chauffeur didn’t want to be an aviator, but an astronaut (like the brand’s founder), given he already possessed a rocket ship.

This particular one, and all subsequent others from whom I benefited in getting around, during similarly silent journeys, was so enthusiastic about the revolutionary powertrain, it bordered on the evangelical. “I'd never go back to a petrol car” was the common statement, and each one handed passengers their personal business cards. We were asked if we might give them an individual mention of recommendation as, and when, we all chose to book an independent test drive from the company’s headquarters or network of outpost ‘Stores & Galleries’. I subsequently learned that in return for their ‘user’ endorsement, a structure for free recharging of batteries was in place, nationwide, for these faithful disciples. But that's more than enough about Tesla.

Therefore, I now moved on to viewing the cars taking part in the racing, as well as wandering around the thousands of mobile exhibits comprising myriad car club displays. And, as ever, quite an eclectic bunch they were, too. Yes, the familiar and returning competitors were in abundance, as well as the stalwart show cars from each marque, but there's always something new to see, both in the pit garages and in club circles. I am a little biased, but two similarly blue coloured Aston Martins caught my particular attention. The first being an example of the brand-new Continuation DB4 GT track cars, about to be paraded, appropriately, on track, by its new owner. Then, secondly, a proper road car which was the first to bear David Brown's initials in its title, even if retrospectively. Christened the ‘Two-Litre Sports’, it was given its DB1 name only after its successor, the DB2, was launched a few years later. Just 14 chassis were ever completed and this was only the second example I had viewed in the metal. It had been well restored but owned in the same family for many decades, with brother and sister siblings, on behalf of an elderly father, doing a fine job informing interested spectators about their automotive inheritance.

Given the length of the Formula One GP circuit - i.e., lots of tarmac space that can accommodate lots of cars - several of the grids comprised well over 50, sometimes as many as 60, starters, undoubtably permitting the largest entry lists on this side of the English Channel. That made for excellent variety, as well as many closely contested sub-races and battles right through the miscellaneous fields. Even groups of lapped cars, with almost identical performance, could provide terrific entertainment, especially when the front runners bisected them, like the parting of the Red Sea. Great for spectators, and the drivers were obviously enjoying themselves, too, as long as they used their mirrors. I don't think I've ever seen quite so many single seat racing cars at one event, the combined representatives of Formula Junior, alone, were well into a three-figure total. At the other end of the hierarchy were sixty-one Pre ’66 Grand Prix cars listed in the programme. Not far short of a hundred, were the massed ranks of Touring Cars, ranging in age between 1958 and as recent as 2005. Above these, all resting cheek by jowl in open garages at ground level in the ‘Wing’ complex, were dozens more vehicles, ready for sale the following day, by Silverstone Auctions.

Two very large exhibition rooms were full, in addition to those parked outside, yet when I peered through the window of the entrance door, no staff could be seen, let alone any potential bidders. However, it was now 7 o'clock in the evening, and the preview period had closed. Surprisingly the door was open, so I ventured a few feet inside, hoping to just get a single panoramic shot, prior to a probable return next morning. A dutiful security guard suddenly appeared at my shoulder, and after a few words of explanation that I hoped to take photographs for an official purpose, rather than being a potential villain, he escorted me amongst a selection of cars after I obtained his permission to take a few further pictures. In fact, my guide was helpful and enthusiastic, although we may have slightly different choices of the most interesting vehicles in the catalogue. He was on duty all night so, I suppose, half an hour assisting me was at least a diversion from the boredom of his normal night’s routine. I honestly did feel privileged to be given ‘security clearance’ and access to the whole auction, by myself, and thanked my chaperone for his help.

After that, timing was perfect to watch the Le Mans and Daytona ‘Masters Historic Sports Cars’ take to the track for their race into dusk, appropriately emulating the changing light of the famous 24-hour races in France and Florida back the late ‘60s, early ‘70s. Then, finally, headlights now fully ablaze, were the ‘Masters Endurance Legends’ from the first decade of this Millennium. Iconic Prototypes from Audi, Peugeot, Oreca, Lola, Courage, Dallara, etc., and the Pro-Drive built Astons and Ferraris in the GT classes. Glorious sights, and sounds.

The subsequent morning and of equal interest, though now static, was a collection of modern Porsche Boxsters. Part of the display celebrating 70 years of the Stuttgart company, these brightly coloured two seaters each supported by a sponsoring UK main dealer. But what was most alluring about them all, was that each Boxster represented one of the iconic Porsche racing liveries, from the most famous iterations of their competition heritage and colours schemes, which even non-Porsche enthusiasts might remember. The most obvious, of course, the one with the orange and powder blue Gulf paintwork of the John Wyer 917s from Le Mans in 1970 and ’71, given even wider publicity by the Steve McQueen film of the same name. Every car was detailed extremely well and, to me, each one almost instantly recognisable. The Martini colours of the 1971 winner, and the purple/green psychedelic swirls of the long-tail 917 from the year before, additionally stood out, but it was also good to be reminded of the ‘Leyton House’ turquoise from the Group C 962, and the ‘Sunoco’ colours from the fearsome 917–30 Can-Am car.

However, the most latterly famous livery was that of the ‘cuts of pork’ labelling on the ‘Pink Pig’. Originating from the 917/20, again back in 1971, but most recently depicted on the 2018 Le Mans class winning 911 RSR. However, the British Porsche staff responsible for the collective project took great pains to point out that they had the idea first, and their own Pink Pig Boxster was completed months before the Factory 911 racer’s livery was even considered. I had no reason to doubt their word, and was genuinely impressed by the colourful concept and the amount of work which had gone into the whole idea.

Back amongst the racing cars in the Grand Prix paddock, I was struck by the scale of professionalism, racing preparation and, not least, the logistics. It seems these days each competing car has to be part of a seriously funded operation, and every participant needs his own articulated lorry with the dual level 40-foot trailer behind it, a team of several mechanics, spare engines, several sets of wheels and quad bikes or mopeds, to travel to and from the equally large motorhomes, located elsewhere on the premises.  Long gone were the days when, even for this size of an event, a humble estate car would turn up towing a modest open trailer, with a couple of spare tyres, oil cans and a tool box, all jammed in next to the driving seat of what the owner intended to race. Sadly, and even more historic in terms of time, was the notion that the road legal racing car itself would be driven from home to the track, a couple of numbers stuck onto the doors, perhaps the bumpers temporarily removed, and its place taken on the grid for an afternoon of high spirits, yet gentlemanly conduct. Then, assuming everything still intact, setting off for home again, perhaps with a little trophy on-board for a podium place or class win, as the sun was dipping below the horizon.

That said, the atmosphere and friendliness of the Silverstone Classic remained undiminished. There was unhindered access to both sets of Pit garages, all the highly valuable racing cars housed within, and those people associated with them, drivers and mechanics. When obviously not preparing directly for their time on track, they were invariably happy to talk for five minutes about what they had brought along. By and large, no matter where you go, motor racing circuits all attract knowledgeable visitors, and the subjects of their photographs have wheels rather than human faces, unlike everywhere else, it seems. Even in the eateries I didn't see anybody digitally capturing their plates of food, or artificially whitened sets of teeth from grinning groups, hoping to impress their personal media audiences.

One such a vehicle that caught my eye, although extremely rare, was instantly familiar as I'd seen it only a few weeks before, at the Le Mans Classic. Probably hardly ever viewed outside Italy, even in its heyday, this was a UK registered Lancia Flavia, of 1961 vintage. In France I had found it sheltering out of the baking hot sun, in an otherwise unoccupied staff area carport, and when I went for a closer look, was soon joined by several other wandering spectators also taking an interest in this somewhat modest, grey, three box saloon, or Berlina, to be more accurate. But like bland coloured river otters or badgers in the British countryside, you may never see one again in the wild, so it's always worth a photo. Certainly, owner Peter Baker and his wife were pleased that I had recognised it from their own sojourn to Le Mans, especially as I’d observed the unique horizontal curvature and style of its dashboard and switches, which they appropriately named the ‘piano keys’. I confess this point of reference might only be of interest to a tiny minority, even amongst a devoted Lancia fraternity, but the phrase, ‘they don't make them like they used to’, has never been more apt.

Indeed, the long weekend of the Silverstone Classic had many things to impress and occupy every visitor. The organisers catered for a full family day out (with fairground, a plethora of retail stalls, children’s play areas and a large stage for evening musical entertainment, among the attractions), as well as those at the other end of the scale. These being well travelled visitors who took up their favourite positions in deckchairs right at the edge of the track on prime viewing corners, or from the lofty terracing of the stands, to watch every race in its entirety, some of whom filling in lap charts and final positions - down to 10th place! - on sections provided in the official programme. Others, I noted, never seemed to watch any racing at all, but were quite content to stay within their local car club compound throughout, chatting amongst themselves or proudly highlighting the merits of their own personal charge, and often specific aspects of the painstaking restoration work, and mechanical engineering achievements.

On my final departure from the paddock area, I detected quite a lot of sound emanating from under the bonnets of a couple of static cars. Surprisingly these came from the, hitherto silent, Teslas full of electrical engineering. “Why were they suddenly so noisy?”, I asked. “It's because the batteries have overheated and the fans are trying to cool them down,” came the reply. Yes, it had indeed been a hot Summer weekend, but certainly not tropical or desert like conditions. I considered it wise not to ask further questions of the volunteer drivers, and actually took a ride on the top deck of an old London Routemaster, the archetypal ‘Clapham Omnibus’ - several laid on free for members of the public to get around - back to my own car. Ever reliable, it somehow seemed a more appropriate conclusion to the nostalgic automotive event, as a whole. And, returning to mammalian analogies, but for once ignoring the omnipresent Jaguar (until this final sentence), a Hare and a Tortoise came to mind.

© 2018, Classique Car Conduits