Shhh! Listen!

Ah, the characteristic sounds of the English countryside: the bleating of sheep on verdant hillsides, wasps droning above lunchtime picnics, birdsong, the scuff of hiking boots on walking trails, the rustle of the wind through summer trees. And there. What’s that? Oh, yes. Of course. The inimitable, throaty purr of a Bugatti Veyron.

We are in the Cotswolds, the beautiful range of hills which arcs from Stratford-upon-Avon, birthplace of Shakespeare, down to the city of Bath. This is England at its most bucolic, its most genteel. So what on Earth are we doing sitting beside a strip of asphalt? Why are we inhaling the fumes and enduring the noise of a succession of fast cars?

We are here because, in the 1930s, a bunch of enthusiastic young chaps fell in love with French-made Bugatti motorcars and banded themselves into the Bugatti Owners’ Club. Theirs was a passion that needed to be expressed through driving, and they scoured the English countryside for suitable tests for man and machine.

Above all, they were eager to drive fast up steep, winding roads. Unfortunately, England is not known for its mountain ranges. It has an abundance of gently rolling hills which provide a lovely setting for a Sunday drive but are less suited to an adrenaline-pumping ascent in a sports car. Even when the fervent young motorists found suitably vertical terrain, they tended to face local opposition due to the nuisance of their roaring engines.

So when, in 1937, the club members heard of an estate for sale close to Cheltenham that included a hill with an appealingly sharp gradient, they bought it and constructed their own private road up the side of it. The following year it was unveiled as the Prescott Speed Hill Climb.

Motorsport fans thrive on superlative statistics, so try these for size. The longest route up the hill is 1,127 yards long (0.64 miles). From bottom to top, the rise is a little over 200 feet. The course record is 36 seconds.

Er, okay, so those are not figures that will set the world afire. But Prescott never sought to be the longest, the highest or the best. It was born out of sheer enthusiasm for cars and driving, and that is why drivers and spectators continue to converge on this little corner of Gloucestershire for organized events.

There is even the option to tackle the hill yourself. Drivers’ Schools are held throughout the year. (Demand is high, so you need to book well in advance — and you must supply the vehicle, which doesn’t have to be a Bugatti.) For around $300, you receive expert training in the technicalities of hill climbing before being let loose on the famous, snaking course.

The venue really comes into its own during the spectator events held throughout the warmer months of the year. Two rounds of the fiercely contested British Hillclimb Championships are staged here, in April and September. From strategic vantage points overlooking the tight bends, often startlingly close to the action, you can watch the Indy-style singleseaters taking turns powering their way from bottom to top.

Other Prescott events, more celebratory than competitive, culminate with the American Autumn Classic in October, in which vintage American vehicles go head to head in this most English of settings.

England is built on tradition, and that is reflected in the typical sounds of the sporting summer. The percussion of balls being struck at Wimbledon and at village cricket matches. The rumbling canter of racehorses. The slice of oars through water at rowing regattas. And, for nearly 80 years, the roar of motorcars up a steep hill in the sleepy Cotswolds.