GONE RACING

TEAM ADVENTURE

Team PC blasts to Silverstone to watch Matt as he takes to the track in his 750 special

WORDS MATT TOMKINS AND PC TEAM PHOTOS MATT HOWELL AND JON ELSEY

Sunrise over The Wing, Silverstone’s modernist centrepiece, which just weeks prior had played host to the British Grand Prix. Fresh from an evening of good humour and grub with my fellow competitors, I awake in my roof tent above the Land Rover and peek out. There, atop the white polished floor of the international pits, is my Austin Seven special. It’s come a long way from the Ruby that I discovered rotting in a shed five years ago. From barn find to racing car, it’s bare aluminium bonnet shimmers in the sun. Today was the day. Today, I would fulfil a childhood fantasy. Today, I would race at Silverstone.

Some miles away, the rest of the Practical Classics team strike up their race-bred engines and point headlights towards Northamptonshire. They would be meeting up at the very excellent Flight Deck Café at Turweston aerodrome before approaching the legendary circuit in convoy. The kettle was on, the bacon was crisping gently in the frying pan and the sun was out. They too were ready for a day at the races.

It’s a special day not only for me, but for the club hosting the event, too. Today’s meeting marks 75 years of the 750 Motor Club’s 750 Formula Championship, the longest continuously running race formula in the world which has spawned such greats as Arthur Mallock, Colin Chapman, Eric Broadley, Mike Costin and Gordon Murray to name but a few, and which started when Silverstone was little more than an abandoned airfield with a single tannoy, a caravan and a few hay bales. The current 750 Formula Championship is now in its third iteration of cars, formidable-looking, full-blown bespoke racing machines that are all fitted with Fiat’s 1108cc ‘FIRE’ engine, in relatively standard trim. However, both the original Austin Seven-based (Class A and B, the latter supercharged) cars that started it all and their successors, sporting Reliant’s 750 and 850 engines (Class C) as well as some with Coventry Climax power (Class D) are all represented on track by the Historic 750 Formula Series in which I would be racing.

As cars and drivers begin to arrive for the days’ racing, a crowd gathers in the corner of the garages. Drawing the crowd and and aiming for its first successful race result since its restoration was completed live on the club’s stand at Race Retro in 2017 is the Warren, a formidable Reliant-powered machine that won the 1973 750 Formula Championship.

It’s a distinctly different looking beast, defined by extra-long front radius rod and vertical exhaust stacks, and powered via a toothed belt-drive by a rear-mounted supercharged 747cc side valve Reliant engine with a custom cylinder head – quite the engineering marvel. Today, to celebrate the formula’s anniversary, it’ll be driven by Bill Cowley Junior, who currently races in the 'modern' 750 ‘Fiat’ Formula and whose family have a great legacy with the 750 Formula. Keep an eye out for the Cowley name later.

Signing on and a new driver briefing precede a 15-minute qualifying session, in which I must complete three full laps to be eligible to race. My stomach’s doing somersaults in the assembly area and I think of the rest of the team, tucking into a bacon sandwich, set to enjoy one of the best value days out for any petrolhead – spectator tickets for 750MC events are generally sub-£20 for adults and free for under 16s, with grass-roots Going to see Matt blast his home-built Seven round Silverstone was pretty emotional. We had all watched him start with a completely knackered Ruby and slowly create his dream machine over the last four years, and now, here was the end game. Matt was going to race at Silverstone, in a proper actual race on the big boys circuit. Dreams don’t come any better do they?

But what to take from my garage? I needed to bring along some appropriate wheels to support young Tomkins in his first big race with the 750 club. Only one option really, my BMW E36 328. It has motorsport pedigree as long as your arm and when I was watching a lot of it, back in the Nineties, it was the E36 that was BMW’s main weapon of choice. Joachim Winkelhock competed in the BTCC with the 318i and 320i from 1993 to 1995, winning the title in 1993. In the same year, Johnny Cecotto won the German ADAC GT Cup driving an E36 M3. Cecotto won the Super Tourenwagen Cup for BMW in 1994 and 1998, while Winkelhock won in 1995. There’s plenty more, but that’ll do for me – 328 it was.

Early out and on my way to Turweston Aerodrome to meet with the gang for breakfast in the Flight Deck café. As usual the 328 provided a lot of entertainment. I’ve never owned a car that does so much so well. It’s fast, very fast, and it handles extremely well, but is also pliable and forgiving without any sense of being separated from the road.

After breakfast we headed to the circuit, joining Tomkins in the paddock where we enjoyed him forgetting to wear the right shoes, and cheered him on as he heroically came very last indeed. Not dying was the aim, and not destroying the car he so lovingly built. It was a great day, and here’s the thing… I might bang on about how fast my Beemer is, but that’s just wannabee nonsense. There was only one of us out there actually on the hallowed tarmac, and he was doing the business, nice one Matt. Forza! events taking place at circuits across the country throughout the year. Put at least one on your list next year, it’s a truly fantastic experience.

Noise test passed, it’s on to the track, a circuit which I’ve visited since I was five years-old.

It is a strange feeling but I push all sentiment to the back of my brain, hold on tight and go for it. My first impressions are just how massive the track is. As I pull upwards of 70mph down the Hangar Straight, the perception of speed is bizarre. The track is designed for Formula 1 cars travelling 100mph faster, and so 70 feels slow. It is, compared to others I’m sharing a grid with, but this is my second time on track in a car I built to go to the pub in, so I’m taking it easy. Unlike on the road, there are no close points of reference, no closing speeds. It messes with your head. We’re using the international circuit today, the lower half of the GP track, with British Touring Cars thrashing around the top of the circuit.

The results are in, and I’ve qualified in penultimate place, just ahead of the number nine car of Thomas Emden that had been suffering mechanical issues. So, in reality I’ll be starting from the back of the grid – do I care? Not one jot. I’m on the grid at Silverstone. At this moment, Mike Harvey arrives with a set of 15in wheels shod with radial rubber. ‘Try these’, he suggests. ‘You’ll be amazed at the difference.’ I’m initially sceptical, and a tad concerned that this reduced rolling radius would put my maximum revs higher than I would like, but it’s worth a try. Out of my thin-soled fireproof shoes I change before setting about jacking the car from the floor and swapping the wheels for the ones Mike has kindly loaned.

Time is ticking and the tannoy calls for our grid to form up in assembly just as I refill the fuel tank and lockwire the cap firmly shut. I lower the car, check all the wheels for tightness, don my helmet and start the engine before forming up in assembly. The team have arrived by now, just in time to watch me sprint away from the car. Warming the engine, and mentally preparing myself for the race ahead, just as the minute board is shown I look down. I’m still in my trainers! I’m not the most physically active of people, so a sprint the length of The Wing to change, in helmet and race suit, was not the calming start to the session I’d hoped for. I’m helped into my race shoes by Richard Verheyden who’s number 6 car’s freshly rebuilt engine had failed in qualifying before sprinting back to the Tomkins Special. ‘Do I need to call a medic?’ enquires the chief marshal. Honestly? Probably. But my heart would have been racing anyway as we’re led out onto the circuit to form up on the hallowed grid.

The red lights go out and immediately the difference brought by the smaller wheels is evident. I’m no longer chasing the ratios of my original Ruby gearbox, with enough torque in third and even fourth now to pull me out of most corners, Village aside.

Yes, 2CV racing is a thing… and has been so in the UK for many decades. With cars barely modified at first, the circuit competition began at Mallory Park in 1989 and has since evolved through the Classic 2CV Racing Club. The ‘Le Mans-style’ 24 Hour endurance event, held from 1990 to the present day, is an annual treat for the senses. Drivers from a host of teams fearlessly pilot their tin snails as the cars shriek around the circuit for hours on end. Pit stops – and even whole engine changes if necessary – are performed swiftly and it’s a truly beguiling spectacle. Deux Chevaux racing has taken place in various forms in other parts of the world too, with Morocco and Australia the scene of desert raids, while an ice racing extravaganza takes place in Switzerland each year.

Almost 40 years of regularly being driven flat out across Europe means my own 200,000-mile 2CV (on its original engine) is quite used to hard use, although I’m not sure it’s a match for the machinery at Silverstone. As we watch Matt slipping into his racing suit we fondly recall his first day at Practical Classics. He was a skinny, well-mannered thing and, for his age, annoyingly talented with a spanner, too. Dashing around the place and keen to prove himself as a talented fixer of things, it felt like it was only a matter of time until he built his own car. Seeing the sketches in his shed slowly evolve into a full-size Austin Seven special has been a genuine highlight of my decade at PC.

Then, watching this ridiculous polished bathtub being shunted into the paddock at Silverstone… surely such a thing isn’t allowed in 2024? Well, it is – and hallelujah for that! We watched in admiration, our cheers punctuated by sporadic gasps from Matt’s clearly apprehensive parents as their son slung his homemade motor around one of the world’s greatest racing circuits, ample beard flapping in the breeze. It was an afternoon I’ll never forget. I doubt he will either.

My confidence builds with every lap and by the end of the fifteen-minute race I’ve found 11 seconds over my best qualifying time. I check the timing sheet. I’m last… ish. But I’ve beaten my qualifying time, so I’m cock-a -oop. I’m also ahead of the number 67 Whippet of Paul Mason, which had spun and six DNFs, three of whom were caught up in an incident on the first lap that resulted in a red flag and a restart.

Back in the pits and the team arrive, having been watching from the sidelines. ‘Heroically last’ booms Danny, much to everyone’s amusement. We take advantage of the formula’s fabulous hospitality and enjoy a spot of lunch before I find time for a quick levels check and refuel then line up for race two. As we assemble on the grid, there’s a problem – my brakes are stuck on. I wave for a marshal, but manage to free them with a wiggle of the handbrake. The cables, it seems, aren’t sliding as they should over the central linkage. I make a mental note to deploy some loose juice later. Once more the lights go out and we’re racing. Off the line, with a fresh boost of enthusiasm and confidence in the smaller wheels I’m even keeping up with John Moss, whose number 85 car is closest to mine in both aesthetic and pub-ability. Then it comes, the misfire that’d plague me for the next fifteen minutes. I quickly work out that it’s a fuel pump issue. The float chamber is emptying faster than the pump can fill it, so I need to lift off for three seconds in every 20 or so to allow fuel to reach the carburettor. Inherently aware of the dangers of lean running (extreme heat, melted pistons, burned valves…. you know the drill), I back off. There’s little point coming last AND destroying an expensive engine. It’s a crying shame as the car is handling so much better on the radial tyres and I’ve finally got my head around the geography of the track. Despite this I add just one second overall to my best time from race one, so I must have improved in the corners but, two DNFs aside, this time I really am stone last. Frustrated, I take the chequered flag.

I’d intended to attend Tomkins’s big day out at Silverstone in my TR6, but unfortunately, I wasn’t able to get a fresh MOT on it in time. Luckily, I was able to use my dad’s 2.5PI instead, which was quite fitting given the motorsport exploits of the Triumph ‘Big Saloon’ in the early Seventies. BLMC sanctioned a four-strong works team of 2.5PIs in the 1970 London-Mexico World Cup Rally and, after battling with the works Escorts throughout, the cars of Brian Culcheth and Paddy Hopkirk came home in second and fourth place respectively.

As I made the journey down from Yorkshire to Northamptonshire, although the terrain encountered was nowhere near as arduous, I was reminded yet again of what a brilliant long-distance machine 2.5PI is. With plenty of power on tap, plus a comfortable ride and excellent braking capabilities, it got me down to Silverstone without incident and in time, most importantly, to enjoy a spot of breakfast with messrs Hopkins and Walshe before watching Tomkins take to the iconic circuit.

Thankfully his two races went off without incident, too, although it was immediately clear that most of the other 750 MC competitors were aboard machines much more focused on track use, compared to Matt’s plucky little special that appeared to have him sitting on it rather than in it. Which made his exploits on the day all the more impressive, as he completed both races without a hitch and, most importantly, both man and machine remained in one piece at close of play. Matt’s pace was somewhat shall we say, slower, than most of the pack, and I’ll never forget the sight of him being swarmed by four or five other cars as they overtook him all at the same time. It looked terrifying to me, but was all part of the fun according to the intrepid Mr T! Respect to him for what he has achieved so far and, with a series of tweaks to the Seven planned, what he will no doubt achieve going forward.

That’s racing, though, as they say, and has given me a list of improvements to make before my next outing – at Mallory Park. Prizegiving is a typically jovial affair and there are smiles all round – even from those with even longer lists of jobs to do than I before the final meeting of the season. Taking the overall win in both races was Bill Cowley in the Warren. Both races in my class, A, were won by Charlie Plain-Jones in the ‘Cowley Special’, a car built by Bill’s dad Nigel when he was just 15 years-old.

As the hubbub dies down and the team wend their respective ways home, I return the wheels to Mike and vow to invest in a set of my own, before loading the Seven back onto the trailer. As I leave the home of British motorsport behind, I wonder what 1998 Matt would make of today’s exploits? From those early days attending club motorsport events with my dad to taking a place on the grid in a car we’d built together… I think little Matt would be pretty darn chuffed. ■

THE REAL COST OF RACING

Matt breaks down his first season spend

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