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A big carbon footprint in France Our own Michael Jennings does his bit to stave off a new Ice Age by his almost obsessive amounts of globe-trotting, and I cannot compete with that, but I did my little bit at the weekend, as did a lot of other crazy people, by attending this event in France.
Ever since I watched the Steve McQueen film about the extraordinary 24-hour race in this part of France, I have wanted to go to Le Mans. I was not disappointed. The sight and sound of the cars setting off for the race, and then thundering down the Mulsanne Straight, or twisting around the S-bends after shooting down the track under the Dunlop Bridge, was unforgettable.
There is, I suppose, something very elemental about getting excited about the sight of such things, and of course, there is the satisfaction in how Man, by mastering technology, can produce cars able to go flat out for 24 hours and drive at such speeds, competitively, and live to tell the tale.
I shall definitely be going back.
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Any environmental protesters there?
Somehow, in these times, I have a vision of lots of people standing around with bits of cardboard on sticks, angrily demanding that Le Mans be supplanted by a 24-hour bicycle race or something.
Laidback, I did not see any. One thing I like about the French is that they seem less prone to this sickness than some other nations.
As a rough guess, I would guess that the sort of folk who attend Le Mans are not what you would call a core readership base for the Guardian.
That does sound like it was fun, although I wouldn’t have been able to make it this year because I was in Sarawak.
The Bathurst 1000 is another mighty endurance race, much loved by Australian revheads. The circuit is really extraordinary, as it is on the side of a mountain in rural Australia. It has never been quite the same since they put the chicanes in the long descending straight, however
This is one of the only sporting events in Australia at which there is often crowd trouble, as Ford and GM (Holden) supporters tend to get drunk and beat one another up. (A new regulation was recently brought in as an attempt to clamp down on this: spectators are now restricted to one 24 can carton of beer each per day). Both groups are united in the opinion that compared to this Formula I is a bit gay, however.
You should try the motorcycle races. I certainly wouldn’t claim that the level of skill is higher, but sometimes it’s more obvious. Especially to one who rides.
I’ve been to both motorcycle and car endurance races, and I have to admit I prefer the bikes, but I am pleased I managed to take my father to Le Mans before he died and thank him for everywhere he took me when I was a child.
One thought on all forms of motorsport though; the fastest runner might hit 20mph yet humans can drive cars or ride motorcycles at ten times that and still see and think far enough ahead not to kill themselves. I admit the drivers at Le Mans are supermen but even so, depending on your viewpoint, we are pretty wonderful things, us humans, or we were ridiculously overengineered.
I learned a valuable life lesson at a 24-hour endurance.
This was an event for ‘open production’ motorcycles. This means minor modifications for safety, but otherwise showroom-stock.
The mount which I was associated with was a Honda CBX, 1050 cc, 6 cylinders, 24 valves, a reliable 100+ hp and 130 mph on tap. That’s pretty small beer these days, but at the time, this was awesome performance for a production machine.
The machine that taught me the lesson was a 350 cc Jawa, a 2-cylinder, 2-stroke machine from Communist Czechoslovakia, with maybe 25 hp and 80 mph of performance.
The flag goes down and the Honda tears off like a rocket. The thing was fast, it handled well, and there were very few other machines in the field that could even run with it. We settled down to run it hard, but not too hard, and pile up laps. Without too much effort or silliness, this thing was lapping everything in sight. The long straight was 2 miles plus, no problem at all in getting this thing to top speed and keeping it there.
Except that it drank like a Geordie stevedore at low tide. The only thing it couldn’t pass was a petrol pump. It seemed like we were forever pulling in to fill it up with 4-star, and every time we did, that damned Jawa would go puttering past at 80 mph, making up all the laps we had so effortlessly covered.
And then there were the brakes. They were good, but an endless succession of 130 mph straights, followed by hard braking – well, bring it in for new pads. It’s an easy job, not more than 10 minutes, and there goes that damned Jawa again. And again. And again.
Night fell – No Problem! Modifications to lighting were allowed, so the Honda had a huge Cibie headlight that would slow you down when you turned it on, from the photon pressure. It was still a 120 mph ride, even in the dark.
Until the headlight burned out. (I wasn’t riding it at the time – I heard that was a pants-filling moment.) The Honda still ran, but the marshals said – no way. You want to get it to where the new headlight is – you push it. And – No Help! Le Mans Rules!
And there goes that damned Jawa again.
Long story short, we beat the Jawa, and everybody else – but not by much, and not by nearly as much as the paper specifications would suggest. A lesson learned – the race really is not always to the swift.
llater,
llamas
Much of the carbon footprint was provided by Audi as they spread carbon fibre(Link) over the French countryside.
I was privileged to attend one round of the Masters golf tournament in Augusta, Georgia in 1992. It was awesome to be in the presence of the very best that the world had to offer.
Johnathan, that link was to a French website.
Good thing I can read French.
Kim, indeed.