The 42nd National Banger Championship of the World.

After spending the day photographing livestock competitions at the mid Devon show in Tiverton I took a drive down to the east side of the county to Smeatharpe Stadium to watch some Banger racing.

As I arrived at the stadium the sun finally came out. It was 4pm. The paddock was a delightful assault on the senses. Initially almost intimidating, my first advance for a portrait of a shirtless man with a sawn-off shotgun pendant on a massive gold chain was rejected. I felt like the obvious outsider.

But I quickly realised it was a very family orientated world. Kids of all ages swarmed over the cars like it was a familiar playground, covered in as much if not more oil than the mechanics, most of whom were beating the crap out of panels to bend them back into shape after the first heat.

One young boy wears his dad’s helmet inside one of the cars, his own race playing out in his mind. The next generation.

The air is sturdy with petrol fumes so thick it gets hard to breathe. 90s dance on full volume from car radios, eventually drowned out by revs and thunderous crack of exhausts backfiring as we approached time for the final race.

Then, a wonderful moment, as cars start to line up inside the paddock the family of each racer climb on board, hanging out the windows. I take some portraits of the families as they drive into the arena, a family procession. The mood is electric.

A beautiful moment and a memory for the kids I expect will never fade, summed up by a young boy as I took his portrait.

“This is the best day of my life”.