Guide needed.

Mark just messaged me his write up for the Goodward Festival which he did for the Classic Rendevouz forum which I hope you enjoy as much as I did, sounds pretty amazing, great write up.

Goodwood Revival 2013 Tour de France report.By Mark Stevens and i-phone.

This event is the most authentic example of a 1960' s Motor Racing meeting anywhere on Earth to my knowledge. 80% of the spectators are in period dress and no vehicles built after 1966 are allowed in the track area. The most exotic classic racing cars and motorcycles are given a good thrashing.

This year a mixed group of Classic cyclists were invited to re-enact a "stage" of the Tour de France to celebrate the 100th year.
I travelled down from Inverness by train. I had a guide meet me at Kings Cross station for the ride across London to my friends house in Peckham. I was riding my original 1955 Gillott Fleur de Lis with Huret Louison Bobet gear. I was carrying all my clothing and spares in a haversack which weighed 20kg. My guide named Dan had responded to my request on the London fixed gear forum. He had googled Gillott before he left to meet me and realising who I was suggested we go via the old shop in Southampton Way. We took some photos. On arrival at Nigel and Nells in Peckham I noticed an ominous split in the nose of my blocked big rivet Brooks B17.

Thursday the 12th at Goodwood. After the Celebrity cricket match champagne was served in Goodwood House. Bentleys, Bugattis, Rolls, Ferraris and Aston Martins parked all around. Dave Moroney and friend rode across the cricket pitch on their tandem with wine bottles strapped all over it. Attractive young ladies carrying magnums of Veuve Clicquot got us more and more relaxed. Friendships were forged. The sun set over the highly polished paintwork, the fountains tinkled under the Cypress trees and we were taken back to the camping area in a delightful vintage bus.

Friday the 13th at Goodwood.
.A fine morning shattered at 7.30 by the dulcit tone of a 350cc BSA Gold Star scrambler being started and revved right outside my tent. He must have missed the Champagne. I donned my 1930's herringbone tweed 3 piece cycling suit and set off for the track. I left the Gillott in the replica French village square hoping that the "Paysan" would not lob a Boule into my spokes. After registration we were given meal vouchers to use in the "Freddie March Spirit of Aviation" marquee. To get there we walked past the paddock full of ERA's, Maseratis, BRM, Lotus, Coopers etc all rasping their way through gallons of Motor Racing Spirit and Castrol "R" as they warmed up for practise. Then past the Boeing Stearman, Ryan ST-A, Beech Staggerwing and other airborne exotica. I forgot to mention the frequent air displays by Spitfires, Mustang, Hurricane and a brace of Kittyhawks.
The weather turned windy but still warm with spits of rain.
Cyclists were turning up from all over. A magnificent 1911Clement ridden by Graham Draper caught my eye. Some machines were not fully period. The cut off date of 1966 being loosely interpreted by some. Period dress was very much in evidence and together with the spectators, surroundings and period vehicles all gave a true sense of the past. We had escort vehicles especially brought over from France. Several Citroen Tractions and weird looking gas bottle on wheels commercial vans. After car practise the Tour cyclists got onto the track. The Citroen pace car was supposed to wait but set off at speed. Myself and many others were so awestruck by being on the hallowed Tarmac of Goodwood that we got left behind leaving a straggly line of Cyclists trying in vain to catch up. There was no riders/drivers briefing beforehand which would have helped to form a more cohesive group.

I met up with friends Johnny and Lisa afterwards and we repaired to the hospitality of the Veuve Clicquot tearoom for sandwiches sans croute and more Shampoo. Then "over the road" for some vintage shopping which included Johnny buying me a £16 Cuban cigar. That impressed the ladies.
Wet weather ensued which drove many of us to the beer tent where we listened to Blur and Black Sabbath being covered by a band playing Drums, Banjo, Trombone and Sousaphone while Hoorays pogoed in wet tweed while I blew expensive smoke. A very muddy trudge back to the campsite. The old army Jeeps and Mk1 Land Rovers running a shuttle taxi service having long gone to bed.

Saturday 14th at Goodwood.
I popped my head out of the tent to see a Spitfire Mk 9 lifting off the grass lit by the low morning sun as it prepared for the first "wake up" display. As the roar of its Merlin engine faded I could hear the Rockers motorbikes being chased around the track by the vintage Police cars.

Our Display was not until 4.00 so I set off to explore. Saturday is the first day of full car racing and the public arrived in full force. Celebrity spotting is not my game but I did recognise Rowan Atkinson, Billy Connolly, Jackie Stewart, Alain de Cadenet, Chris Evans and Sir Chris Hoy. I also saw Elvis Presley many times, Generals Slim and McArthur, Elton John, The Cream, the Glamcabs Girls and a cast of thousands of other period clad hopefuls all doing their bit to turn Goodwood into a living museum. Chapeau to us all.

The weather was colder and changing into period cycling gear in the back of the tiny Citroen Camion Balai was a last minute affair close to our allotted track time. We had not bargained for car races running late then lengthy TV interviews with Sir Chris which kept us waiting out in the wind. I could see rain clouds approaching but they mercifully held off. At last we got on to the track to roars of applause and "AllezAllezAllez". The TV crew were still filming Amanda Stretton interviewing Sir Chris as we cycled along all jockeying for position to get " in the picture". At one point the driver missed a gear and there was a screeching of Mafacs as we all braked to avoid a mass mid circuit "chute" with a seven times Olympic gold medallist and TV starlet at the bottom. As we came round to the Chicane about 0.5km from the finish the TV van, Chris Hoy and Amanda peeled off as we all started to sprint for the line. I was doing pretty well when I heard a clang and looked down to see bits of my saddle nose bouncing down the starting grid. So I had overtaken Chris Hoy and bombed RAF Westhampnett with a B17 in one fell swoop. The marshals returned my sad saddle remains and I put them in my musette. After changing I decided I needed more Champagne. It had not been sprayed all over us glorious Vainqueurs as we returned au Village.

I did a splendid blag by accosting the Veuve Clicquot marketing manager-or rather he accosted me-and asking for the Pantone color references of Clicquots rich yellow for a frame respray. This elicited his card and a glass of pink sparkly stuff. Encore!

Afternoon tea was taken in the company of fellow cyclists and the pilot and crew of a magnificent Junkers 52 which was parked right outside giving the impression we could all step aboard, fly to Tempelhof and compete in the 1936 Hitler Olympics. Which, incidentally my Grandfather did, shooting clays for GB.
Nell and I found ourselves atop the Helter Skelter in the vintage fairground just as the sun was setting. The GodRays framing the Spitfire and Mustang pair in tight formation looping the last light of an amazing day.

More pints of specially brewed Goodwood Ale, pulled pork burgers and another cigar rounded off the evening. On the way back Nigel, Nell and I had drinks with some dashing young blades who were there to race their AC sports cars. It was lovely and quiet as I sat and watched the thin clouds scudding across a waxing moon. I could hear my pocket watch ticking between the hoots of nearby Tawny Owls.

Sunday 15th at Goodwood.
Sunshine but the forecast for rain by tea time. I made the most of the morning by clothes hunting in the many retro shops. I was the centre of attention in several specialist tweed emporiums as they marvelled at my suit. I was surprised and delighted to learn that none of them had seen a genuine 1930's cycling suit before. I related the story of buying it for 30 pence in a garage sale many years ago to wear on a NewYears Day shoot in Scotland. Within minutes of stepping outside I froze as a cold easterly penetrated the tweed. I thought no more of it as it languished in a wardrobe until years later I acquired a 1935 Holdsworthy Cyclists Aids booklet. Holdsworthy specialised in clothing and there were pages of dashing gentlemen in their tweed pluses. Bingo! This year it has won me "Best dressed Gent" at the Glasgow and Edinburgh HarrisTweed Rides.

We watched some racing from the Grandstand. It's not often you see a Ferrari get shunted onto the grass, least of all 330GTO reputedly worth 35 million pounds.
As we assembled for our demo the biting wind brought a torrential downpour. All the finely dressed admirers vanished. I was still in my tweeds and could not face changing into shorts and wool top. Nigel's Sciatica was giving him gyp and Nell had been working overseas and wanted to get home so we missed the last Celebrityless rain soaked demonstration and returned smelling like old wet dogs to the 21st Century.

Mark Stevens Evanton Scotland
.