RUMBLINGS. EXHAUST NOTES, April 1928

t3DARIERGES

I think everyone will agree that there is an extraordinary atmosphere of bonhommie, and cheeriness generally about the Inter-‘Varsity Hill-Climb. This is without doubt due to the absolutely amateur nature of the event, the only remaining purely amateur show of its kind there is.

There is always much to amuse at the ‘Varsity events. Hilarity was evoked by many things on March 3rd, varying from the antics of the competitors—some of whose performances, especially in the car classes, were excrutiatingly funny—to the personal appearance of various officials and others.

There was almost a breach of the peace among my own party—five of us admitted to holy groundon the strength of one Press pass—at the spectacle presented by two wonderful youths, who were obviously of the aesthetic rather than the athletic persuasion. The one was tall and lank, with no hat, a mournful expression, and equipped with black cotton gloves and a voluminous flapping umbrella. The other, his companion, was short and tubby, resplendent in a suiting of what closely resembled blanket cloth, and was coloured a particularly poisonous shade of vivid brown. Too /eprous, my dears.

Particular comment was forthcoming—chiefly from the ladies—regarding the colour scheme adopted by Mr. Llewellyn, who rejoices in the soubriquet of “Ginger.” This gentleman howled up the hill in his blue six-cylinder Amilcar, clad in a boiler-suiting of light blue, the whole surmounted by a brilliant shock of, shall we say, very auburn hair.

The winter is—officially—over and gone. Once more the summer is nigh, and Brooklands is open again. The very fact of the track being open sends a cheerful glow through the heart of the enthusiast. There is an extraordinary fascination about the place, even on nonrace days. There is always something going on, and there is always someone down there one knows. It is astonishing to me that more sporting drivers do not take their machines on to the track and blare round. On the road, no matter how excellent a driver one may be, there is always that feeling when trying to burst the speedometer that one is being improper. On the track one simply feels foolish if the throttle pedal is not kept on the floor.

There is, for me at least, a peculiar joy in lapping the track which high speed on the road lacks, and I derive infinite pleasure from that swoop off the Members Banking down onto the straight—a quite different joy from that of taking an S-bend flat in third.

A very excellent piece of news is that regarding the Evening Meetings at the Track. These should prove delightfully informal affairs, and should at once appeal to the sporting motorist.

The meetings will commence at about five o’clock and conclude about seven, which will give people plenty of daylight to get home.

The events will start from the Fork, and each meeting will include at least one race for those who have never won a race in an open B.A.R.C. meeting.

All the events will be open, and no qualifications will be necessary except the holding of the usual international competition licence. The prizes will not be large—but who cares about that—and the entrance fee will be about ten shillings per race.

The idea is that people will enter these small events who would not dare to compete in the big meetings on Bank Holidays, and that men whose business keeps them occupied all day will be able to come down and race for an hour or two in the long summer evenings. Personally, I think the scheme ideal.

Dates have already been fixed, and they are May loth, June 21st, July 12th and September 5th.

What a chance for all those owners of Bugs and Amilcars and Nashes, who regularly do half-an-hour in twenty-seven minutes!

The regulations and entries for the Tourist Trophy Race for cars, on the Ards circuit, are now published, and those who cannot afford both are deliberating whether it shall be Le Mans or Ireland.

The entries so far should give us a thrilling race, for we will probably have Campbell, Duller and Harvey on Alvis cars, Kaye Don on a Lea-Francis, George Newman on a Salrnson and Vernon Balls on an Amilcar ; not to mention the Marendaz, Rileys and Alfa-Romeos.

I have often become involved in fierce arguments regarding matters motoring, but never have I become the hub and centre of such a whirlwind of passion as was let loose the other evening when I turned the talk on the highest possible speed which may be attained on the road. Stern men raved and strong silent men roared aloud, the whole trouble arising from a debate as to the highest speed attainable on the road during a run, as distinct from the highest average speed.

Now then, you budding Segraves, what do you know about that, huh ?

I have just been around Brooklands again since the re-opening and it seemed as if when they ironed out last year’s bumps, they ironed up fresh ones..