I was born and brought up in Bromley, so I've been going to the Pageant since my dad used to take me as a little kid. More recently, as my friends and I have become old enough to learn to drive and get into classic cars ourselves, we've gone along as paying punters, parking in the One-Make Parking. I used to look forward to it but I must admit I'd started to get a little bored with it, seeing the same cars year after year and basically spending the day standing around in a big field.

But this year I had a whale of a time. The reason? I wasn't just a punter; I got involved. My old friend James Harris was running the Rover P6 Club stand and asked me to help out. We spent the day chatting with fellow enthusiasts, swapping stories and advice, and generally being sociable. James and I are not experts by any means, but our presence there at least put people looking for advice in touch with the people who could help them. It was also a fantastic social experience; you would never normally start chatting with a total stranger but being on the stand gave us an excuse to chinwag with everybody. One of the people I met was Classics Monthly magazine photographer Matt, with whom I shared an unbelievably geeky Rover moment (does anybody else know what colour 145 FLK is?).

James' father is into military vehicles, so he was there with his mates and their Austin Champs, Bedford K2 ambulance and Daimler Ferret scout cars. One of the owners was called away to a family emergency so I was asked to drive one of the Champs around the arena when it was our turn. I was given a short driving lesson which told me the basics - how to turn it on, where the indicators are, and how to put it into reverse - but missed the important facts, like the total lack of synchromesh (remember that I've never driven anything from before the mid-sixties) and the almost non-existent brakes.

Driving a forties vehicle was therefore very much a learning experience for me. Sitting up there on a thin seat with no belts, vertical steering wheel close to my chest and heavy pedals too close to my chest, a fantastic view all around, the wind in my hair and only a vestigial control over the tons of vehicle underneath me, I had the time of my life. I saw Matt again as I was driving around the arena, pointing his camera at me; I rather suspect that he won't submit those pictures to the magazine as the grin on my face looks too loopy to be real.

Champs are amazing vehicles. The Army used them as their primary personnel transport and go-anywhere vehicle before the all-conquering Land Rover was introduced. They do a lot of things better than the Landy, but the decision went Solihull's way because of the lack of loadspace in a Champ.

The Champ I drove was fully equipped for wading; all you need is a snorkel for the air intake and you can drive to the same depth as the length of your snorkel. It has switchable four-wheel-drive, and a switchable reverse instead of one reverse gear. This means that it will go as fast backwards as it will forwards - if you have the nerve. Sitting up on top, with no seatbelts and no weather protection except a windscreen, fifteen miles per hour feels like 50. On the drive back to the owner's house I managed to hit 40 on Croydon's Mad Mile - it was incredibly exhilerating. The ride quality is good, and the handling around Croydon's roundabouts really surprisingly positive. It would be nice if it had any other means of stopping than crashing violently down through the gears, but you can't have everything.

The 2.8 litre Rolls Royce engine is an absolute gem. It runs on petrol, but acts like a modern diesel, pulling from about 400rpm. At one point James' dad asked me what gear I was in; I said, "Does it matter?" It starts on a single spin of the starter and is impossible to stall.

So the message is this: don't just go to your local car show as a punter. Get involved. Chances are, your car club is desperate for drivers and cars - all clubs are formed of a silent majority and a few who get involved and do stuff. Ring them up and see if they need someone. You'll have a blast.

I'll leave the last word on the matter to James' father-in-law who also had the privilege of driving a Champ for the first time, despite memories of rides in them at the beginning of his Army career. He could barely speak through the smile on his face, but he said, "You really have to drive them!"