Traditionally, amateur racers go off for a weekend of motorsport
with a motorhome to sleep in and a car on the trailer behind.
But I've thought of a cunning way to streamline this whole business.
Just leave the car and trailer behind and race the motorhome.
I think this plan has a stench of genius about it.
You've still got something to get there in.
You've still got something to sleep in. You've still got something to race
and something to go home in.
To test this theory, I've come here to Essex Raceway in... Essex.
Home to banger racing, stock-car racing and, from next year,
the British round of the Formula 1 World Championship.
This is my motorhome, a Ford Midas. Nice.
Now, let's meet my fellow competitors
and their mobile motorsport racing-living quarters.
In the Mitsubishi L300, we've got touring car star Matt Neal.
In the Toyota LiteAce, we've got touring car star Anthony Reid.
In the Chevrolet, we've got touring car star Tom Chilton.
In the left-hand drive Fiat Ducato MV70 Globetrotter,
we've got touring car star Mat Jackson.
And in the Transit, we've got desperate.
So, we have all sizes and shapes of luxury motorhome here
and all manner of engines and power outputs and that's good,
because it leads to the one thing you want most of all in motorsport,
unpredictability.
And the unpredictability doesn't end there,
because motorhome racing brings with it a whole new set of tactical decisions.
You see, the governing body in motorhome racing states,
in the official 2007 rule book
that you must prepare your motorhome for racing the night before the race.
Once the sun goes down, you may not make any further changes.
Which leaves you with a dilemma.
Do you strip it out and endure a terrible night's sleep
that means you're not on form for the race?
Or do you leave the luxuries in place
and then face having to compete with all the extra weight on board?
I went for the "strip it all out, have a bad night" option.
And, actually, so did all the other drivers. Well, nearly all.
Gravy juice, pan, warm.
Peas, carrots, add.
Finally, everything was ready...
That's a pie!
...for next day's big race.
Night descended over Essex.
Morning broke over Essex.
It was time to celebrate the birth of a new motorsport.
Great day for a race, this, Friday the 13th!
As one of the sport's co-founders,
I was in car number one and James was in car number six.
Turn it in, feel it through the apex.
There's quite a lot of understeer occurring.
Now, the point of this sport is that you should
be able to drive your motorhome home again,
so the rules are simple, 15 laps and no body contact.
Mind you, we had invited touring car drivers!
Right, we're going in three abreast.
This is going to be a late breaking competition.
Oh no! Oh!
I've just seen the door of a kitchen unit on the track
and that doesn't happen at Silverstone.
James's tactic of a good night's sleep wasn't working out.
He was at the back of the field, but he had a plan.
Right, the trick, I think...
is to take slow but inside lines, so as they get carried away
I can sneak through on the left-hand edge.
The little red Toyota had no bulk and no power, but he was plucky
and we respected that... for a bit.
But with some aerodynamic tweaks, the Toyota found some speed.
No! The Toyota's gone through!
Lap eight and, amazingly, James had managed to get lost on an oval!
On lap ten, I lost a bit of structural rigidity.
Oh, nuts!
Feeling a slight touch, there.
Most of this'll clean up. Most of that'll clean out.
I'm having a burst of power and it's not...
It's not coming from my own motor.
With just three laps to go, the red mist descended.
Luckily, my structure was still holding.
No, it wasn't!
Oh, Hammond's gone!
Lightness is everything!
That shelving unit was my downfall.
Bloody pikeys!
Oh, I'm being side-lined!
On the chequered flag, the little red Toyota was first
and I came home third.
Well, I think the no contact rule needs a bit of a tweak,
but we are on to something here.
Like I said, you turn up in one vehicle, you sleep in it, you race in it,
and then... you drive it home. It's brilliant.