Car Show

The Woodvale Rally is gone – but not forgotten

SO LONG, Woodvale Rally. You’re gone, but not forgotten – but I’ll remember you in your prime whenever I look back.

Chances are you’ll have already read about the cancellation of this year’s event, but for me it’s a bit more than just any old car show being culled. The Woodvale Rally is the first one I remember going to, and the one that I’ve grown up with. It is the show that nurtured my love of anything with an engine in it.

For a long time since the early Nineties one weekend in early August meant wandering around an air base for hours, getting sunburnt. I remember going twice with the cub scouts on litter picking duties (and getting a nasty gash on my knee during the latter), as a youthful helper-out with various Land Rover and model railway stands, as a Champion reporter and – perhaps best of all – as a classic car exhibitor when my Minis and MGB took part.

The masses of old motors, the endless model aircraft displays, trade tents covering just about every hobby imaginable – I lovedall of it. Even the queues stretching right the way down the Formby Bypass as everyone crammed through the gates were somehow part of the fun. Sure, it was congestion, but it was a traffic jam with Triumph Stags and Jaguar E-types in it. I can understand completely if your local summer treat was the air show, or the flower show, but for me it was always the Woodvale Rally, and it was for most of the other car nuts I grew up with, too.

That’s how I’ll remember the Woodvale Rally, as the big, bustling, and normally stifling hot get-together at RAF Woodvale. Not the show at Victoria Park that followed it from 2012 onwards. I know that the discovery of asbestos at the original venue forced the organisers’ hands, but it just wasn’t the same. Family-friendly and fun? Undoubtedly. A weekend’s worth of great engineering and model aircraft displays, just as the event’s instigators intended when they set up the Rally back in 1971? Erm, not really.

I reckon that the original Rally’s petrolhead pull has been taken on by the Ormskirk MotorFest and, to a smaller extent, by events like the Lydiate Classic Car Show, but with the cancellation of this year’s event and the loss of the Manchester Classic Car Show I mentioned last month that there’s a real gap for another car-focused event in this part of the world. A full weekend packed with old cars and motorbikes, plus aircraft displays, model railways, steam engines and tractors. I reckon that the Leisure Lakes Steam Rally – back in Tarleton in June following 2018’s cancellation – will do the trick, but there’s room for another.

Hopefully someone high-up at RAF Woodvale is reading this. You know what to do…

Going to a classic show in a dull car? Good luck finding it again

Toyota has made its Avensis Tourer very good at blending in - but our motors man reckons he has the answer
SOMETIMES the best places to go looking for cars aren’t the bustling shows taking place at stately homes most weekends – it’s the makeshift car parks next to them.
I was at one last Sunday and in the vast field given over to cars brought along by visitors I spotted a Jaguar XK150, a Ford Capri 3000XL, a Citroen CX GTI and a particularly well restored Hillman Super Minx. All of which were, lovely, of course, but the car I really wanted to see was a silver, 18-reg Toyota Avensis 2.0 D-4D Tourer. Largely because it’s the car I’d been lent for the weekend, and I needed to get home again.
Anyone who’s been to a big car show in something that isn’t a Triumph TR4 will have encountered this problem. After crawling through the grounds of a palatial country pile you’re directed into a nondescript field, where some volunteers – who always seem to be children drafted in from a local Scout group – beckon you into neatly organised rows of cars that aren’t terribly interesting. Normally, if you park up somewhere you’ll make a mental note of where you are – but because I’m a car nut with a short attention span my mind immediately zooms to what’s on the other side of the show entry gate, and I forget.
Which is great right up to the moment you emerge seven hours later and have to find your mid-sized family hatchback in a vast, nondescript field filled from front to back with mid-sized family hatchbacks.
If you’re lucky you might have remembered that you parked two rows away from a bloke in a Ferrari and that you can use his slightly dusty-looking F430 as a sort of homing beacon, but normally there’s a horrible moment when you realise you might never see your car again. I once spent two hours wandering around the peripheries of Goodwood trying to find a borrowed Skoda Fabia, which has six vast car parks given over to people who all seem to drive Skoda Fabias.
You might even end up doing the thing I do, which is to grab your car’s keyfob and point it in just about every direction imaginable, hoping that somewhere in the distance you might see the reassuring flash of indicators of a car that’s unlocking itself. It makes you look like someone who’s pulling shapes at an early ‘90s rave night, but it does on the odd occasion reunite you with your wheels.
I reckon the solution is for cars to be equipped with distress flares that can be activated remotely from the keyfob – especially for ones as visually anonymous as the current Avensis D-4D Tourer. As long as the car show isn’t held in a multi-storey car park this would work a treat, and you’d only have to look up to see in an instant where you’ve parked.
Or just turn up in something interesting, of course. I bet the bloke in the XK150 doesn’t have this problem…

Review – Lydiate Classic Car Show

Lydiate stars included
THE HOTTEST thing in Lydiate last weekend wasn’t its full-to-bursting classic car show – it was my rather reddish mug afterwards.

With temperatures knocking at the door of 30 degrees Celsius and bright, unwavering sunshine throughout even a liberal dolloping of factor 50 and a hat that in my head was modelled on the one worn by Belloq in Raiders of the Lost Ark (but in truth looked a dodgy knockoff of the one sported in Peter Davison-era Doctor Who episodes) wasn’t going to protect me from a spot of sunburn.

But the cars were most definitely worth it. It’s been a couple of years since I’ve last ventured to this one-day bash, held in aid of North West Cancer Research, but it’s really grown in stature and variety since then. The venue – the field immediately behind the village’s parish hall – hasn’t magically increased in size, but the organisers seem to have packed in more variety this year than I ever remember the event having in its early outings.

There was, for instance, a 1910 Sunbeam whose brass plating beamed in the summer sunshine, and forever seemed to be attracting a small crowd on account of it easily being the day’s oldest entrant. Then there was Kevin Price’s magnificent Volvo P1800 – one of the actual cars used in the filming of The Saint, complete with a cardboard cutout of Sir Roger Moore himself. Then there was a 1960 MGA, owned by Southport car nut Peter Bowen – and has been for the past 50 years. This year’s show managed to pack a lot of fascinating motoring stories into a surprisingly small space.

But my favourite, for all the E-types, TR6s and MGs packed in behind the parish hall, had to be the show’s 1947 Singer Super Ten. There are plenty of people who want to enjoy Austin-Healeys and Triumph Spitfires, which is why there are so many of them on the roads at this time of year, but for what would’ve have been a fairly unremarkable machine when new to have survived more than 70 years – thanks largely, to a succession of devoted owners – is an achievement in itself. It probably hasn’t been that long since you’ve seen an MG or old Jag zip past – but when was the last time you saw a Singer Super Ten?

Unless you went to the show last Sunday, of course. In which case, I apologise for the hat.