We might as well call this blog 'A Tribute to the Lola T330/332 F5000' and have done with it. There were loads of other wonderful cars to gawp at but, when it comes down to it, this is David's all-time favourite single-
seater and it reminds him of when he first rode to
Silverstone on his trusty Honda
SL 125 in 1973/'74 to watch these beasts race, so let's indulge him. On a good day, and in certain conditions (a touch of rain always helped) they could beat the F1 cars of the day.
This is the cockpit. No
namby-
pamby paddles or digital displays back then. Men were men and
wimmin (and they were called '
wimmin' back then) were glad of it.
An iconic engine if ever there was one. Look at it. It's crying out 'boot it, boot it, I can take it!'
Here's one being thrashed down a straight. Unfortunately, this blog doesn't do sound effects. Shame.
Of course, even better than these b*gg*rs, back in the early '70's, was the fact that some drivers (some of whom were very possibly not completely sane) bought a second hand F5000 rolling chassis, took off the single-seater body work and replaced it with a flared-arched saloon car body. Some they called 'Big Bertha', some looked like a Capri (sort of), one was bright yellow and had a Skoda body (yes really). All were called 'Super Saloons'. Not like the anodyne British Touring Cars of today. Whatever happened to those? We demand that the Historic Sports Car Club finds out and brings them back. Now!
There were other cars there. Of course there were. And here's the one that captured Vicky's heart. Amazingly, it's not red and doesn't have a prancing horse badge on the bonnet. Whatever next?
After the meeting we met up with Sue and Billy for a meal and a natter. Here Susan, who had been to Northampton Town's game earlier, has recruited David and Billy to help her vividly explain to Vicky the moment when The Mighty Cobblers stalwart defenders
formed a wall to prevent the
dirty cheatin' Red Imps of Lincoln City getting a totally undeserved and definitely against the run of play last minute equaliser.
Blimey, thinks Sue, if these two bang on about how cold it was at Silverstone this afternoon one more time I swear I won't be able to keep my eyes open.
But it was, Sue. It was bl**dy cold!
Of course, this policy can end in tears and you can fall flat on yer face (don't worry, he got up to ride again). We'll say nowt about the marshal puffing on a fag.
Some competitors refuse to take the sport seriously. They wear understated garb and, if we're not mistaken, they leave several whole centimetres of their sidecar uncovered by any form of sticker. 
