A century ago the Gordon Bennett started the history of Formula One. Last weekend the great event was recreated by 306 vintage motors, writes Michael McAleer.
We'll never see its like again. This was the general view of those attending last weekend's centenary rally for the Gordon Bennett, the "race that saved motorsport".
The race can proudly claim to be a direct ancestor of Formula One. In its honour 306 pre-1930s vintage cars gathered in Naas to retrace the route taken by those intrepid pioneers 100 years ago.
Even vintage car auctioneer Stewart Skilbeck is taken aback by the collection of cars on show to the public. What is most impressive is that, far from being museum pieces, these cars are up for a testing trek across Irish country roads, retracing part of the original 1903 route.
Four separate circuits are used to cater for the 306 entrants, 16 were pre-1903. The cars come from Britain, Germany, the Netherlands, Greece, Kenya, South Africa and Australia. And - a sign of a century of change - of the 80 marques taking part, only 16 are still in production. Among the entrants was a 1902 winning car, a Napier driven by SF Edge in the Gordon Bennett race from Paris to Innsbruck, and a 1903 Mercedes.
The oldest car in the rally is an 1896 8-bhp Panhard Et Lavassor. The first four-cylinder car ever built, it was an experimental factory entry in the 1896 race from Paris to Marseilles and back, and it won. Now owned by Daniel Ward, it actually had 12 bhp but this was thought vulgar for a carriage, so it was marketed as 8 bhp.
As the participants gathered in the morning light at Killashee House Hotel, Naas, it's like a scene from a 1900s costume drama, all deerstalker hats, oilskins and dicky-bows.
As the sun rises over Kildare early on Saturday morning, 200 or so pre-1930 cars rest peacefully in the car-park. There are Packards and Panhards, Napiers and a Le Zebre. Ford Model Ts are all the rage (Henry would be happy), and of course, Mercedes, Rolls-Royces and the odd Renault.
Two competitors, Tim and Chris Scott, pull up at the front entrance in a white 1903 60 bhp Mercedes, oilskins to the ankles, wrapped in scarves, flat caps and goggles. Two of similar Mercedes are in the race - there are only four left in the world.
Jim Boland has 12 cars in the event, driven by friends from Ireland and abroad. Before setting off we had called in on Jim, owner of Boland's Opel dealership in Clondalkin. When you see his garaged collection, you realise you are in the company of the uncrowned king of vintage motoring in Ireland. With over 60 cars, from a 1902 Renault to a 1966 Aston Martin DB6, he could hold his own vintage rally. It's a feast of automotive history just walking through the interconnected garages. His collection has been built up over 40 years or so.
Back at Killashee motors and their cargo are going through the morning ablutions. Some need water, others oil, many more a tender touch and a quick spin of the crankshaft. Then with a splutter they're off out to their cars.
As the drivers gather round the control centre in the lobby, you can't help feeling like an extra in The Wind in the Willows, keeping a beady eye for that bounder Toad to come charging through demanding to get an early start. It's all very Toad Hall in fact. Some play up to the occasion, ladies in 1920s dresses with feathers in their hair.
Outside, Daniel Ward, pulls up in his 1896 Panhard. He's busy doing interviews and guiding onlookers around the car, with fatherly pride.
The weigh-in begins and it's time to join our travelling companions in their 1921 Crossley 19.6. Bob Trenholme and his daughter, Amanda, have driven over from the north Wales village of Nefyn. We take a back seat in their dark blue veteran.
Clearly, conversation was not part of motoring life in the 1920s. The back seat is a good six feet from the driver's bench and, with the roof down, it's hard to be heard through the wind and the engine noise.
The Crossley is no slouch and we knock along steadily between 40 and 50 mph. According to Bob, it's well able for the excesses of 90 mph and could even hit the magic 100 mph. Not today, however.
In the winding country lanes we meander along in convoys of threes and fours, responding to friendly waves and excited cheers. It's amazing how vintage cars bring smiles to even the most weather-beaten faces.
Through the villages of Kildare and Carlow we go. At Rathvilly, the cars criss-crossing on the four routes for the race, designed to avoid congestion, transport the picturesque town back a hundred years. Outside the pub there's a Mercedes, a Morgan and a White, one of two steam-powered cars in the race.
They are not alone in representing turn-of-the-century alternative energy. Three electric cars in the race reveal the hidden dangers of "alternative" energy - silence. You just don't hear these cars on the move. Like ghosts, they creep up behind you. It's only the sudden throaty croak of its horn that warns you to step aside. After a few such skirmishes, you begin to understand the fear generated by their arrival on our roads 100 years ago.
Silence is not a problem with the Mercedes, nor indeed the Crossley as we move onto the hard shoulder of the main road to Athy. The rain is coming down and, even with the roof up, we get a good soaking. This is early 20th century motoring - wet, wild and noisy.
It may be a navigation rally, but there's very little chance of getting lost. With so many vintage cars on the road, the worst that could happen is you join the wrong route. There's always the Hansel and Gretel approach - follow the rainbow-coloured puddles of oil. In Athy town centre we revert to this approach to find the route out of town.
By Vicarstown it's time for a pit stop and some refuelling for cars and cargoes. The weather has cleared and the mood is more jovial.
We witness a clash of young and old when a 1910 Cadillac Tourer owned by Pakie Gavin comes off the worst in a collision with what all refer to as a "modern car", obviously the scourge of the motoring world. On the back of the transporter, the Cadillac is a sorry sight. The large headlights of vintage cars looks like large innocent eyes and the grille a wide smile. The Cadillac loked like it was weeping as we passed. Thankfully nobody was seriously injured: the worst complaints were of nettle stings from the occupants who were thrown into a ditch.
So, it's through the Curragh and on to Kilcullen before returning home to the Killashee Hotel and saluting the winner: James Cullen in his 1929 Riley Biarritz; a competitor for over 20 years, he finally won on the centenary year.
Next stop for these vintage motors will probably be the centenary of the Gordon Bennett run in Bad Homburg, the race that followed the Irish run. But it's unlikely they will get such a collection as this. Next time we see these cars may well be at the next centenary.
Judging by the loving care and attention bestowed on them by their owners, the motors have a very good chance of being around for the next centenary, even if the motorists don't.
The Drivers: René de Knyff
The strong French team for the Irish race was led by the Chevalier René de Knyff, the most successful of the many fine Belgian drivers of the early era of motor racing. A large bearded figure, wearing his trademark yachting cap, his love of the good life was well-known.
As Charles Jarrott wrote: "No matter what town one arrived at, de Knyff knew all its most interesting features, where the right hotel was and what wine had to be sampled. In all matters pertaining either to equipment, route, feeding or technical knowledge, we all looked to him for guidance."
Like many of his contemporaries, de Knyff had been a successful cycle racer, turning his attention to cars in 1897. He won the Paris-Rouen-Paris race in the following year.
He always raced for his adopted country, France, and always in a Panhard - he was a director of that company. He was a man used to winning and in Ireland could be expected to be a formidable competitor.
Always accompanying de Knyff was his mécanicien, Aristides, a legendary figure among his contemporaries, who acknowledged that what he didn't know about a car was not worth knowing. It was acknowledged by all, including de Knyff, that Aristides played no small part in the success of de Knyff.