Dunboyne Circuit Motor Race, Co. Meath, Ireland 1967

[@gerardlacey9384]

Good on Mr Fitzgerald for his optimistic view, doing something outside the box seems to be taboo even then!.

[@oldwobble916]

Quite exiting video, never knew of this. As for the other comments, you can't judge this by today standards. 1967: no obligation to wear a helmet riding a motorbike, no obligation to use a safety belt in a car. And that was for everyday life when roads and auto mobiles were not as safe as today.

[@countsmyth]

Could also drink and drive back then too.

[@fiddlejohn9305]

It will be interesting to see how racing evolves with electric motors. For me nothing beats the sound of the revving ICE motors and the smell of oil, petrol and burning rubber.

[@Mark-sx3rf]

So lets just get this straight. The drivers aggreed to race the track. The locals didnt mind hosting the track. The onlookers loved the show. But the council/goverment didnt like it so they shut it down. Jesus arent we happy this has changed and the goverment now really care about us so much, they make our decisions for us

[@Pfessor_Moriarty]

Refreshing to hear that Senators replies to Cathal. A voice of reason. Cathal did tend to have an air of alarmism about him, always the killjoy.

[@jamesbradshaw3389]

This was the proper way to go race driving in your car wearing 1st world war pilot googles, your best sports jacket, open neck shirt with silk scarf rapped around your neck, with a lit Sweet Afton cigarette on your lips as you headed down the open road with no safety barriers only a few straw bales stuck in few gapes along to road, you heading for the finish line as fast as your car can go as you say the words of this poem out loud Flow gently, sweet Afton! amang thy green braes, Flow gently, I'll sing thee a song in thy praise; My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream, Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream. Thou stockdove whose echo resounds thro' the glen, Ye wild whistling blackbirds in yon thorny den, Thou green-crested lapwing thy screaming forbear, I charge you, disturb not my slumbering Fair. How lofty, sweet Afton, thy neighbouring hills, Far mark'd with the courses of clear, winding rills; There daily I wander as noon rises high, My flocks and my Mary's sweet cot in my eye. How pleasant thy banks and green valleys below, Where, wild in the woodlands, the primroses blow; There oft, as mild Ev'ning weeps over the lea, The sweet-scented birk shades my Mary and me. Thy crystal stream, Afton, how lovely it glides, And winds by the cot where my Mary resides; How wanton thy waters her snowy feet lave, As, gathering sweet flowerets, she stems thy clear wave. Flow gently, sweet Afton, amang thy green braes, Flow gently, sweet river, the theme of my lays; My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream, Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream.

[@fiddlejohn9305]

One of the best cigarettes ever though I never really took up that habit. Certainly one of the best songs ever by Robbie Burns. My racing career consisted of only flailing my old beater cars around curving back roads

[@justicesomeday]

Reduce speed ahead of dangerous sections....!?!?

[@gerryellis3847]

A Peugeot 404.

[@wanderingsoulenterprises5564]

Wow! 🏎️

[@brianquigley1940]

👍 👍 👍 👍

[@georgel74]

What a negative commentator..

[@jamesbradshaw3389]

Yes, but if you to campier it to a commentator of today