Broken, slow, smarter—why historic race cars belong on the track
Looking at it objectively, our results at the 2026 Goodwood Revival were dismal. On Friday, the clutch on the Hansgen Special gave out. On Saturday, the Lister-Maserati ended up in the grass after two laps in the Sussex Trophy; although it was able to restart, we lost eight laps, which knocked us out of the running. And on Sunday, in the Freddie March Memorial Trophy, a blown cylinder head gasket in the Hansgen meant it was all over. Three days, three breakdowns, no results worth mentioning.
And yet: This weekend was one of the most valuable outings with and for these two cars in a long time. Just not in the terms by which races are usually measured—we didn't even get any airtime, the kind you get when someone crashes spectacularly.
A race car isn't a piece of furniture
People regularly ask whether it's even permissible to drive such cars anymore. Whether historic material isn't being lost in the process. The concern is well-intentioned, but it misses the point.
After all, when it comes to a race car, “original condition” is largely a fiction. In the 1950s, these cars were taken apart, overhauled, and modified after almost every race. An engine would last a season, if things went well. Cylinder heads, clutches, axles, and entire body parts were often only temporarily attached to the same chassis for a few weekends. Anyone who speaks today of “untouched” substance is describing a condition that never existed in a factory race car. Constant renewal was not the exception—it was the norm.
Conversely, when a car is restored to its historic condition, driving it yields insights many times greater than what a stationary object could ever provide. A car sitting in a museum doesn't answer questions about chassis design. A car that races answers questions about balance under braking, engine characteristics, steering precision, and so on. This is a different caliber of knowledge, and you can only gain it out there in the real world.
What the Lister Reveals About Archie Scott Brown
This became immediately apparent with the Lister-Maserati. Despite being underpowered—with its roughly 200 PS compared to V8 competitors—the car is surprisingly easygoing and precise to drive. Brian Lister has created an excellent car here, and after a few laps, you understand why. Despite a number of retirements, the Lister-Maserati attracted so much attention that it convinced Lofty England, as race director, and William Haynes, as chief developer, at Jaguar that Brian Lister was the partner who could keep the flag flying high—even after Jaguar's withdrawal from motorsports at the end of 1955.
The small Lister-Maserati is a perfect fit for the physically challenged Scott Brown; it can be pushed to its limit with fine balance and minimal effort—you don't need to force it. You don't realize this just by looking at it. You realize it in the cockpit.
What the Hansgen Special Reveals About Walt Hansgen
Things went similarly with the second car. Walt Hansgen hadn't been able to get a C-Type in the early 1950s. Jaguar was very selective about who was granted the new race car, and Hansgen was still a nobody back then.
So he built his own C-Type. Starting in early 1952, he dismantled his silver XK 120, transferred the key components to a custom-built frame made of chrome-molybdenum tubing, and had an aluminum body fitted over it. By mid-1953, it was finished. Weighing 950 kilograms, the Special is 270 kilograms lighter than the production XK 120—and thus, on paper, in the same league as the C-Type. Hansgen himself later remarked wryly that for the money he'd invested, he could have bought more than one C-Type.
The car drives accordingly: built uncompromisingly for lightness, with handling that betrays its designer. And Hansgen achieved his goal: thanks to strong results with the Special—such as his victory at the 1953 Watkins Glen Grand Prix—he gained recognition and was subsequently provided with top-tier factory equipment. It was no coincidence that he won four consecutive SCCA titles between 1956 and 1959.
The Cost
Three breakdowns in three days are frustrating. But these are costs that Brian Lister, Don Moore, and Walt Hansgen paid just as readily back then. A cylinder head gasket isn't a loss of value—it's a wear part; it was one as far back as 1953, and it remains so today.
Those who preserve these cars are simply preserving sheet metal. Those who drive them keep their entire technology and their soul alive. Through things that only become apparent when the car is in operation—and along the way, you also learn something about the people who built and drove them. This is especially true at the Goodwood Revival, because nowhere else is there such a good chance that someone who actually worked on the car back then will strike up a conversation with you.
That alone makes every head gasket worth it!
