I feel the need, the need for speed... Back in the distant days of my youth, I was a real top gun when it came to racing cars, a Formula One demon with desire in my eyes and a gritty determination to win in my heart.

But eventually, despite my howls of protest, they took the Scalextric away.

The last time I drove anything real with any poke in it, I ended up on an embankment of the A12, stunned and shuddering and waiting for the paramedics.

Blame it on the black ice of an East Anglian November.

Well, here we are in Oxfordshire in July, in a field outside Curbridge, near Witney, where Oxford Mail photographer Dave Fleming and myself have come to experience the thrills (and potential spills) of roaring around in rally karts.

Well, I have, at any rate. Mr Fleming has that well-known press photographer's smirk on his face which says, "Yes, you get on and do the dodgy stuff and I'll make sure I get the snaps of you when you turn the thing over at 50mph."

Cheers, Dave. In actual fact, the whole thing is very safe because the boss, Paul Sidebottom and his staff have made sure that all necessary standards are met.

So welcome to PORKS racing. PORK is an acronym - it stands for 'Paul's Off-Road Rally Karts,' and Mr Sidebottom would consequently like to be known as 'Porky' from now on.

Fair enough - so what gave you the idea for this then, Porky?

"Well, about 12 years ago, I had a track near Carterton and then I went to work in the States for a bit," he reveals. "While I was in America, I dreamed of coming home and starting up another track. This is unfarmable land, which is ideal.

"But it took me a year and a half to find a suitable plot. We've rolled it and flattened it, but really, the more bumps there are the better it is for this sort of karting."

The track itself sits snugly inside the 15-acre field, 750 yards long and marked out by a black necklace of 7,500 tyres and a handful of fluttering flags.

A small group of picnic tables is dotted near Porky's military-style marquee, from where barbecued grub and soft drinks will eventually be dispensed. "We're targeting 18-25 year olds mainly, because they've got nothing to do, which is a big problem for Witney council," opines Porky.

Having selected a tasteful pair of driver's overalls and a crash helmet, I stroll over to my waiting kart.

By this time, Fleming's snapping and grinning and looks really pleased when Porky reassuringly clips a fire extinguisher in front of the steering wheel.

The kart has 18in wheels at the back and 16in at the front. There's no clutch - just a throttle and a brake. It's powered by a Honda 160cc engine and if you take it to the floor on the straight, you can get it up to 50mph. Vroom, vroom.

So on to the track I go. At first, you tend to oversteer, which causes the kart to veer wildly from left to right and your head to roll around inside your helmet like an eco-ball in a washing machine. Take the corners too tight and you end up chewing rubber. But by the time I approach the straight, the andrenalin is surging in my veins and the toes of my right foot are twitching like a gunslinger's trigger finger. I floor the accelerator and the kart shoots forward like a heat-seeking missile.

This is great fun, I'm thinking, until I hit a rough patch and I'm being bounced up and down like a baby on a trampoline. Now I know what Porky meant about "the more bumps, the better".

As I struggle to keep the thing under control, I reflect what a good job my dentist made of my fillings.

But after three or four laps, I've got the hang of it and it really is the most tremendous fun. I could happily stay here all day, but there's a hole in the paper waiting for all this and Porky has paying customers to please.

Reluctantly, I cruise into the pits and hit the kill switch. I felt the need, the need for speed. And I felt the bumps and I've got the lumps. Vroom, vroom...

Converted for the new archive on 30 June 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.