The A647 that connects Leeds to Bradford buzzes from morning to night with commuters heading from the gentrified Farsley into the centre of Leeds. Through my childhood, it provided the soundtrack to the street I grew up on as some (inadvisable) days I'd take the roadside walk to school and in more inadvisable days, you could see the racing Vauxhall Novas, XR2i's and the odd Cosworth if you were lucky. 

I've never been a petrol head but have always admired the way the classics look. I had a gigantic, heavyweight, glossy book as a kid that profiled supercars leading up to the early 90s with a centrefold proud with the 'new' Ferrari F40. 

Design and identity always appealed more to me and likely explains my current dislike for anything that deviates too far from the classics (it's not a Ford Capri though is it...?)

As I get older, I can appreciate the workmanship and craft that goes into classic design more and more. Add to that a big dose of 'feeling' and I think I get it. My first car was a tiny 106 and I loved it. The square doors, the sparse dash and the hand-wound windows, the first real taste of freedom. A DB5 it isn't, but a Saxo was the aspirational cool badge at 17. 

Many doors open when you knock and invites land from the blue that I often turn down at risk of looking like I am trying to be an influencer but when Goodwood Revival fell onto the radar I stopped caring. 

I was aware of the event but never really understood the full gravity of it until I pulled into one of the many fields to park up and collect my pass. That field was like a car show alone minus the DB5 but with a DB6 in its place parked as nonchalantly as a Kia Sportage in any Asda car park in any town across the country. 

The obvious line here is to state that stepping through the gate is like stepping back in time, so call me obvious. Because it really was. The hum and growl of the cars punctuated the band playing Jimi Hendrix and the 'hippies' putting the power into every flower printed anywhere they could imagine. Welcome to Goodwood Revival. 

I made a beeline to the vintage village via calling in at Private White to say hello. You can expect another short piece on PWVC soon enough. 

Shuffling through the crowds, I was in heaven. Vintage everything from Hermes to Ralph to cameras, boots and yes, lots of wax. If that way inclined, you could base your yearly shopping trip around a visit to the Revival and not be disappointed. I walked away with a silk scarf and a made in England, tweed sports coat for less than £50, which is good. Very good. 

Everywhere you turned, something was happening. People making, people singing, dancing, drinking, eating, fixing bikes and everyone seemed to be having a great time. The famous dress code only elevated the experience and frankly, I will be advocating to roll it out nationally when I am king. 

I love nothing more than people taking care and time into what they wear. It's my thing and maybe likely yours, which is why you're reading this. Abundant with slick hair and red lipstick, transcending us to a time when class reigned over crass.

I walked through the paddocks, stopping briefly to talk to mechanics and drivers pretending I had any idea what was happening. Luckily I didn't need to. Luckily Rowan Atkinson did, a familiar face just doing his own thing like everyone else. 

By the aerodrome I admired the Spitfires on behalf on my son who's dreams I'd felt I'd just walked into. Helicopters took turns to fly and land in the background as drinks were served under a hanging Spitfire in a rather large hangar. As cool as drinks locations get I'd say. 

Next was a short stroll through the set of The Pirates of the Caribbean* into the Rolex members lounge. There I bumped into Jenson Button who after a few tips from myself went on to take his first victory at Goodwood shortly afterwards. I'm not taking credit but.. (insert David Brent locking fingers together meme.)

After lunch it was back to the paddocks and then more exploring. If you've never been, I simply cannot empathise how big the venue is. With so much happening in every direction, it takes hours to explore and I really liked that. I often feel shortchanged when you arrived at a festival or similar and it takes 15 mins to explore than the rest of the day looking for ways to fill it. 

Goodwood Revival has something to offer everyone and in the shadow of a charged political climate leaning upon ideals and imagery, Goodwood celebrates everything thats great about our heritage in the most inclusive and celebratory way. Beautiful machines and beautiful company. 

We shall see you there next year.  

*I've honestly no idea either