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A night drive to Wales led to early morning on a hill called CAD West, a natural green and pleasant camera platform between Dolgellau and Machynlleth that sits on a military air training area unofficially known as the Mach loop. Its where the airforce practice low level flight training Watching a CJ Hercules loom over the hilltop was worth the trip alone.
Err, nothing. Midday came and went. Gwyndaf runs the family business that stretches back to his grandfather in the thirties. He keeps his MK2 Escort in the showroom. I grabbed a picture of it as the man himself watched from behind a desk piled with paperwork. Alongside modern clubman rallying fare, and new Bowler Landrovers, classics were assembling for the scrutineering foreplay of tempered lies and pleas for leniency that tradition dictates is required to go racing. Amongst the Fords I found a lone Hillman Avenger.
The rally stages were the following morning. I was supposed to be back home then. The notion of leaving without witnessing a squadron of Escorts tearing through a Welsh Forest Stage was unbearable.. With no room at the Inn, improvisation came in the shape of a picnic blanket, an old coat, and a chilly night parked in a road side rest stop.
It tested the theory whether you can sleep in a VW Up. The answer? Yes, but only if you really have to. Aberangell spectator stage, basking in early spring weather brought the fans out in droves, Parka jackets and bobble hats replaced by shorts and sunglasses. The dry weather made the cars kick up rooster tails of dust that rolled over the fans.
The Capri looked magnificent, the Sunbeams gave me a nostalgic hit of driving Welsh backroads in years past. The Abarth was flying, and the Avenger was holding its own, although, perhaps no surprise, the Escorts won the day for me.