THE WORKS

The last Riley Brooklands built, winner of the Biennial Cup, fifth at Le Mans in 1934 and raced ever since: Octane drives one of the most remarkable competition cars of all time

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Brake hard, drop to second, wipe the wheel as you thrust forwards again and gather the second apex, run wide on exit and then gun this Riley Brooklands down the very short straight accompanied by what sounds like Gene Krupa wigging out in Sing Sing Sing, just one silky upchange to third en route to braking hard and dropping a gear for the 'squarepin' (© J Elliott) at the other end. Then work that very forgiving second-third plane hard as you head back up to the top via a jinking ess (singular) and a slight kink. And repeat. Ad infinitum.

The atmosphere can't be faulted: the sounds, smells and touch of this car in this location are invigorating and don't seem anachronistic in the slightest. But for a low mist, a covering of dew and a de Havilland Moth instructor plane landing shakily in the background, the scene is Merchant Ivory perfect.

Yet however much fun it is negotiating this uncomplicated one-kilometre Bicester Motion sinew, it's hard to evoke what it might have been like at 3am on the pre-chicane Mulsanne in 1934, surrounded by 7.0-litre Duesenbergs, wailing supercharged Alfas and darting blown Bugattis. That was a big year for Le Mans, the changes that had started in 1932 – and would largely see it through to today - finally completed. The circuit had developed a paunch to incorporate the new pit complex and, circuit-wise, everything from Maison Blanche to Tertre Rouge was new. Safety was increased (though 'introduced' might be a more appropriate word) for both drivers and spectators via earth banks and tree-felling, plus large portions of the track, notably the Mulsanne, were resurfaced.