Ah, the “London to Brighton” run – you can almost taste history in the air! First organised in 1896, the “London to Brighton Emancipation Run” was staged to celebrate the passing into law of the “Locomotives on the Highway Act”, the primary purpose of which being to raise the speed limit from 4 to 14 mph, and to abolish the need to have a man on foot precede your speeding carriage. How I look back now with fond memories of that first run. Father, still recovering from his drubbing at Isandlwana, hoisting me shakily on his shoulders to watch the 14 heroic finishers cross the line, scarves flapping in the bracing sea breeze as retainers cracked open picnic hampers. I don’t recall there being any Landrovers though, not even Series Ones……

Roll forward 107 years. Somehow a single annual run isn’t quite enough any more. Did you know there have been 37 separate “London to Brightons” this year? Neither did I, in fact I made it up, but there are lots – vintage cars, lorries, minis, vw camper vans, even people doing it on their own legs, with singlets, and shoes. How much more sensible it seems to cover the 60 odd miles in something as solid as a Landrover.

So, a couple of days before the big day it’s time to check the oil and the weather forecast, an important consideration when some fool has removed your windscreen and doors. The BBC say bright and dry but with a cold northerly wind, so at this point the major decision of the event is addressed by hardy EMLRA members up and down the country – to get up early on the day and freeze? or spend the preceding 12 hours at altitude in the Crystal Palace camping area, and freeze. I plumped for the short sharp shock of a 2 hour pre dawn drive with a reasonable probability of hypothermia on arrival. Others took the more drawn out but perhaps slightly less intensely torturous option and camped overnight – Richard, Becky and Noah Lock in their 127 Ambulance, Jeremy King curling up within Matrons’ warm bosum (a 101 Ambulance, in case there are people out there still not familiar with it/her), Mark Mott in his snow camouflaged UN 110 station wagon, and Owen Woods and friend with FC 101 GS braving the elements under canvas (a bivvy tent? In October? Brave man).

As the 9 o’clock start time approached, the EMLRA contingent steadily grew. In addition to the aforementioned campers and myself in the Series3 109 recce, our numbers were swollen by Sue Cummings and partner in a smart Series 1, Martin Vaughan in a winterised 90, and John Butcher flying the flag for the committee in his FC 101 with radio body (is that the vehicle’s body, or his?). Hugh Phillips appeared on foot, having been directed by the marshals to join the main procession forming up for the off. Unfortunately as his 109 was by now hemmed in at the centre of 4 lanes of static vehicles, we agreed extrication was not a feasible option and we should meet at the other end.

So, with 9 vehicles assembled it looked like we’d got ourselves a convoy, neatly formed up at the club exit and eagerly (?) awaiting the all important drivers briefing which would ensure we reached our destination in a safe and orderly fashion. It quickly became obvious we had missed this critical gathering when a distant low rumble and dust cloud formed itself into a 1000 strong phalanx of drivers & passengers charging past us to mount their vehicles. Oh well, what could the organisers possibly have told us that we didn’t already know? Head south to the sea? Don’t knock the runners off their legs? It’s not a race? Oh yes, mind the tram wires in Croydon, that was probably it.

Sometime prior to departure the sun made a miraculous and welcome appearance, boding well for the journey ahead. Seizing the moment, Sue decided to go topless in the Series 1, closely followed by Owen stripping back the 101 canvas. Whether this was a result of the improved weather conditions, or a wise piece of forward thinking bearing in mind the large portions of hot beans recently consumed by the GS 101 crew we will probably never know. My guess is that discretion was considered to be the better part of valour.

Green light received, off we rolled. Richards 127 Ambi taking the lead and under strict instructions from Owen to stop the convoy at a petrol station “with nice toilets”. Presumably he wasn’t too optimistic about their ability to survive the journey to the coast after all those beans, even with the improved air conditioning the lack of canvas afforded.

Unleashed by the frantically waving marshals we headed into the depths of South London. Richard bravely led the way while Becky navigated from the passenger seat, and a fine sight our ex-military convoy must surely have made as we trundled along somewhere near the front of a 600 strong column of interesting, and not so interesting, Landrovers. I’m certain our map reading was impeccable, but nevertheless it is oddly inexplicable that at every t-junction we reached a column of vehicles seemed to cross our path from stage left. I suppose there are almost as many routes to Brighton as there are oil leaks in a 109.

And so to Croydon. I have no idea if the Crystal Palace drivers briefing did include mention of the overhead electrical tram wires – probably not, but my god what a way to wake yourself up in the morning and get the adrenaline flowing. The sudden realisation that you are seconds away from passing under these malign cables with 4.5 metre antennae standing proudly to attention does tend to focus the mind. It specifically focused my mind on whether to attempt an emergency stop, but during the split second it took to realise the result of several Landrovers paying close attention to my rear cross member at 30 mph would not be healthy I had already passed across the tramlines without the anticipated flash and trail of sparks turning me into a late morning fry-up. If any engineers out there can explain what the result of coming into contact with these would be I would love to know (can I assume my tyres would insulate me?). Answers on a postcard please PRIOR to next years run.

Formed up in Tesco's	Owen and friend getting tanked up at Tesco's

By this stage petrol and toilets were presumably becoming more of a priority for some of us, so where better to take over than the local Tesco car park. Eight military vehicles, plus those foolish enough to be following our lead, lined up for a photo shoot with Tesco’s Purley branch as a backdrop. This did seem to provoke a few glances, some of which were presumably admiring, others probably concerned or offended, and yet more possibly wondering if Tesco’s home delivery have begun to operate a “delivery by stealth” policy to enable South Londoners to perpetuate the myth that they all really shop at Fortnum & Mason. I’m sure the petrol station manager didn’t think about it too deeply though as several tanks were filled to capacity.

The next hour passed with a smooth and steady run down the A23 in glorious sunny weather, being constantly overtaken by groups of Freelanders, Discoverys, Range Rovers and every other vehicle capable of outpacing a 2.25 litre petrol engine. Crawley lived up to it’s name by offering up an impromptu traffic calming scheme as hundreds of bunting-adorned vehicles were compressed agonisingly slowly from 3 lanes down to 1. Somehow we managed to maintain contact with each other, disengage from the bemused Sunday drivers, and emerge triumphant for the final approach to Brighton. I seem to recall that last year we all managed to evade the clutches of the commentator’s “meet and greet” on Madeira Drive. Not so this year. Owen was pulled over to discuss the finer points of the 101, followed by myself to talk about the 109. Maybe I am becoming paranoid, but when the commentator asks you, off-mic, “What is it?” I am tempted to assume my limited knowledge is being put to the test, prior to some public joke at my expense. Whatever the commentator’s intentions, I was mildly amused at the response to my explanation that the 109 is not totally original, as oppose to the bona fide, 2A, SAS, scud busting, terrorist annihilating, 4 wheeled weapon of medium destruction she assumed it to be. “Don’t tell them that” was my only instruction…… The ensuing Billy Liar inspired commentary was only briefly interrupted by Jeremy (or was it Richard?) racing up the sea front with blues and twos blaring to divert attention from me. An impressive sight indeed. Almost as impressive as an ambulance sporting an SA80, .50 cal Browning, and Exocet missile. Jeremy – does Matron hold a special dispensation exonerating her from the Geneva Convention articles?   Left: Parking marshal comes a cropper

High drama action shots taken on the approach to Crawley

The rest of the day passed in general ambling around and viewing of the multitude of Solihull’s finest of all shapes, sizes, and states of repair. From Series 1’s, through dormobiles, Camels, fire appliances, a genuine-looking 2A Pinkie, a very odd looking station wagon adorned with buffalo horns, stickers, more spots than a searchlight battery, and the stars and stripes, a multitude of Series vehicles, and of course the ubiquitous shiny modern stuff for taking the kids to school in. Apparently a “Wolf” prototype was in attendance, but went unnoticed by me. I suspect a number of other EMLRA members were lined up on the sea front as a number of window stickers were in evidence.

The 109 double parks in the 101 area and takes up a defensive position against the organisers	John & Jeremy discuss the merits of arches as camouflage

It was unfortunate that the organisers this year insisted on lining us up by vehicle type, resulting in us not being able to display as a group. Maybe next year we can arrange a club stand, and while we’re about it why not make the L2B an official club event? – I’m sure this would attract more members and could even incorporate a run on the Saturday afternoon for those staying overnight?

Awaiting judging of the "most warlike ambulance" category	The boss provides provides an essential courier link between the dispersed EMLRA members

In summary, a great day out. Topped off for me by the elderly couple who, after several minutes looking at the 109, very seriously enquired as to whether it actually took part in the North African campaign with Monty’s Eighth Army. Maybe buying those cheap Bren guns wasn’t such a good idea after all!

Jamie Wilkinson 2003