It seems a fairly West Country kinda activity - a little bit of this part of the world and its culture that remains defiantly resistant to gentrification. It's pie and chips and burgers and a pint; black baseball caps and broad Devon / Somerset accents. One nation under a KERRRUNTCCCH!!
If you've never been, it's fucking ace. A brilliant afternoon out. The smell of leaking petrol and chip fat, bits of bumpers and side-panels hitting the wire fence. When the wife and I first went nearly 20 years ago, it was a little bit more Hillbilly than now - airhorns in the crowd - but it refuses to die or grow up or go native hipster. I LOVE it.
I blogged about banger-racing culture years ago on my old blog; but it sure deserves a re-mention.
The drivers are beloved local characters: Pikey, Lurch, Scratchy... folk heroes who give their trophy cups to random kids in the the crowd. It's the only place I know you still get to hear "Mouldy Old Dough" or B Bumble & the Stingers played over the PA. The commentator yells "Bangers and crash!" every time there's a prang, makes cracks about local drivers appearing on Crimewatch UK for liberating London tourists' caravans from garage forecourts LOL.
"Wreckfest 2 was sponsored by Tricky's Cider!"
(No, not that Tricky)
Oh, come on: it's Reliant Robins towing caravans. Top entertainment!