George Smith recalls the time when a rhubarb field in St Mary Cray became the top cycle speedway track

Originating on a derelict bomb-site in Eltham soon after the Second World War, interest in cycle speedway gripped the country for the next decade at a time when the motorised version would often attract crowds of more than 70,000 to a single meeting.

Naturally, teenage boys wanted to imitate this motorsport, and so cycle speedway began.

Hundreds of cities and towns across England had teams and the name skid kids' soon became synonymous with the sport.

Mr Hackett-Jones of Cockmannings Farm already had a busy cyclists' tea-room there, and he gave up a rhubarb field so that local boys could race.

It soon become fully-surfaced with safety fencing and floodlights, as well as banked terracing, judges' box, PA system and, for fans, buffet facilities.

The press corps of the day hailed it as the best in the country'.

Cycles were usually scrounged or relieved' from bombed houses and Sharp's cycle shop at Reynolds Cross repaired bikes without charge for the new Cray Tigers' team, while Bill Farmer, of Crockenhill Coaches, offered his services free and ferried the team to away meetings.

When I enjoyed a pleasant evening with Johnny Evans, a leading rider with the Tigers, it was clear they had been a team to be reckoned with.

So successful, that a reporter from a national newspaper travelled down from London by train to see this new track. On arriving at St Mary Cray he became lost, but was then guided to the track on hearing the rousing cheers of the crowd.

Indeed, Saturdays would see a procession of spectators walking up Cockmannings Road for meetings.

In 1950, the Tigers were one of the first teams to visit Holland for a week-long competition and left the Dutch with no doubts as to their abilities.

One of their riders, Henk de Bruin, did come over 30 years later but Evans had moved a couple of roads away and Bruin returned to Holland not having seen any of the old Tigers' team.

The boy-racers all wanted the latest Raleigh Polo bicycle, with its thicker spokes and larger hubs, so damage would be limited to rivals' machines (accidental of course!). But few of the team ever had enough money to own one.

In 1949, Evans came a cropper with a shredded wheel and resident volunteer first-aider Fred Turner diagnosed a broken arm. So Evans earned the nickname Crasher'.

Orpington even had its own team called The Eagles, with its track situated near the memorial now a multi-storey car park.

One of Orpington's riders, Percy Pacey, kept in touch with Evans long after he closure of the tracks before starting a successful lawnmower business, which is still going in the area.

The Cray Tigers' cabinet was brimming with trophies and cups. I wonder where they all are now?

Cycle speedway was well-documented in the sports publications of the day, and even legendary comedian Tony Hancock had aspirations of being number one' on two wheels, as well as on the stage.

TV personality Gilbert Harding, of What's My Line fame, motorcyle-racing legend Geoff Duke, singer Petula Clark, commentator Brian Johnston and even Bob Hope were all members of the Cycle Speedway Readers' Club. But no amount of famous people could halt its decline and, by the mid-Fifties, it had all but ceased and the field at Cockmannings Farm returned to agricultural use.

Evans says National Service at 18 years old depleted most teams and Tigers' chairman, Mick Slater, then switched sports and joined Cray Wanderers' Football Club.

Some teams struggled on until the end of the Fifties, but the BMC Mini now was just around the corner and even motorcycling was in decline.

The boys were boys no more... they had met girls!

Evans now lives in peaceful retirement in Orpington with his wife Brenda, the girl' he met at the Cray Tigers' track more than 50 years ago.

Strangely though, cycle speedway has recently had a revival in Holland where cycling is massively popular.

But for the likes of Evans, Pacey and their friends though, it's now a time to look back with fond thoughts of camaraderie and decency in sport, and enjoy those cuttings and memories of the time which still means so much to them... over a bowl of rhubarb crumble and custard, presumably?