Proper, competitive classic racing means no
stone can be left unturned. Chad was under no illusions:
A) keep it upright and B) give it hell.
Held every September at
Goodwood Motor Circuit in West
Sussex on the south coast of
England, the Revival serves up
three days of classic racing on
both two wheels and four. Owned
by the Eleventh Duke of Rich-
mond, the former World War II
fighter base—think Spitfires, Hur-
ricanes and even the occasional
P-51 Mustang—is gloriously
old-school, seriously fast and not
overly equipped with modern con-
cepts such as gravel and runoff.
But unlike most race meet-
ings, the racing is only half
the entertainment. Celebrities
mingle with professional rac-
ers, while 150,000 spectators
over three days arrive in period
costume. Once through the
gates, you are transported back
to a time of clipped accents and
gentlemen racers, to a golden
era of post-war euphoria and
fast and dangerous motorsport.
At Goodwood, the correct tweed
jacket with an accompanying
flat cap can be every bit as
important as a well-sorted set of
Amal carburetors.
Everyone plays along. Cater-
ing staff, medics, marshals
and photographers all look as
though they've wandered off
a 1952 film set, complete with
stiff upper lips and lashings of
derring-do. Even the mechanics
remain improbably smart while
elbow-deep in mechanical may-
hem and engines that regard
oil-tightness as a vulgar modern
affectation.
THE RUNNERS
& RIDERS
The Revival is fully immersive.
And, out on track, I am drowning
in a very different type of nostal-
gia: adrenaline-soaked, pinch-
me-before-I-wake-up nostalgia.
RIDE REVIEW I GOODWOOD REVIVAL 2026
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