Since the dust settled the other week, I’ve been trying to put the Goodwood Festival of Speed in to context with some other events I’ve worked at.
It’s this truly magical concoction of car, driver, and crowd. And an amazing venue. Cars that won concours are taken away from their stands and are taken to the start line, marked with original bricks from Indianapolis, and then cajoled up the hill by some absolute legends. Not every car makes it to the finish line. Case in point – the 1989 Le Mans GTP winning 767b found its demise at the end of some hay bales. But that’s no big deal at Goodwood, just tidy it up and send the next legendary car.
It’s this spirit that makes the Festival great. It’s not the suits and ties, the tuxedos, the designer watches; it’s the love and fascination with the machines that move us. The ones that made history on the ribbons of tarmac that we revere. The brave souls who piloted unimaginably fast cars for their time.
The fire, the fuel, the grit. It’s a celebration and a monument in its own right. And I’ll be back next year for sure.
Thanks for looking!