- 379
- Florissant, MO
At the behest of one of my colleagues, we decided to make our bid at the world's most famous motor car race, the Grand Prix of Endurance, the 24 Hours of Le Mans. He and I had discussed this for years, and finally put together the resources to make it happen. We purchased a used Mazda 787B Vader Edition. It cost a hefty investment from my accounting firm, but I believe it to be a wise choice. It was worn out, warped and dirty, but in the hands of a good driver, it would get the job done.
Fortunately, I had Flynn and his PR firm in northern Italy to grease the wheels for me and our entry into Le Mans. He was able to secure us a last-minute entry into the field. We had to start dead last in the class, but we allowed on the course, at least. He also managed to point some blind eyes in our direction by the Licensing agents from the ACO. He was also able to arrange a meet-n-greet with none other than Tom Kristensen (who would be reprising his attempt in the R8) and Henri Pescarolo, the legend with 33 LM appearances who was also crew chief for his Judd-powered C60. I was honored and was able to secure some autographs for my family.
As we retired to our less than comfortable cots in the garage for the night (Flynn's paranoid, and I'm not much better), the revelry and humor wore away and we started to come to grips with the big challenge that lay ahead. We're racing in a serious competition against numerous race winners driving legendary cars in a grueling test of skill and endurance. We were in way over our heads. Sleep did not come easy that night for either of us...
As dawn broke, I was awake and staring at the ceiling of our rented garage listening to Flynn snore from the other side of the garage and stewing about what was to come. I heard some of the other drivers and crew members arriving to set about their preparations. I couldn't shake my concerns about the upcoming race, and decided to make myself some coffee and run some last-minute checks on the car.
A little about our competition:
The Audi R8 driven by Tom Kristensen was to receive honors due to his repeated successes at this course, and the legendary status of the machine he was to pilot yet again. He sat pole at the opening of the race. He was to be assisted by an unknown rookie driver by the name of Franz Dittmer.
Next up was Roland Buttershire piloting the Bentley Speed 8, backed up by David Brabham, another legend in his own right.
Sitting third was the venerable R89C piloted by Gosuke Yamaguchi and Heero Watanabe, a talented pair of fresh drivers from rural Hokkaido.
Henri Pescarolo's Judd-powered C60 suffered from some traction issues during qualifications, and as such was relegated to 4th place. He selected Jean Claude Aurac, grandson of Claude Aurac who had nearly died during the filming of the '70 classic Le Mans starring Steve McQueen. Aurac would be helped by Anton Giuseppe from Naples.
Finally, we come to the 900kg gorilla snarling at the rest of the field from a surprising 5th place: the Sauber Mercedes C9. The silver arrow was to be piloted by Kimi Raikonnen and Wayne Hill (nephew to Damon Hill, F1 legend) and was sure to be a force to be reckoned with.
We've got our work cut out for us...
The pit crew showed up around 9:00 after a hearty breakfast in the Infield facilities and began to make the last minute adjustments to the chassis and suspension before we were to take our untested machine onto the unforgiving Sarthe course. We opted to put a 70kg ballast load just under the driver's seat to pull some extra weight toward the front wheels in the hopes of improving traction and braking load. Of course, since we missed qualifications, who knows how well it will work.
ACO judges and inspectors made their rounds just before lunch and assigned us with a 180 point deficit when compared to our competition. We were heavy, slow and floppy and we were running on slicks. Our delivery truck carrying our hard and medium compound tires was stuck in traffic with all the spectators currently flooding the streets leading to the race. I couldn't wait until I saw those Dunlops sitting in the garage, but we had to make do with these slick Michelins that were on the car when we purchased it for at least the first stint. No biggie, it's just a half hour or so, then we'll get to run on hard compound as long as we want.
Since I was a complete n00b on the course, I opted to take some time and ride with the inspectors as they toured the course checking on the final preparations for the track itself. The Hunaudieres highway was cordoned off and the barriers at each of the Ralentisseurs was being constructed. The Mulsanne Kink and Corner were being fortified against the horrible possibility of a crash. Random emergency response personnel were setting up their supplies and making themselves comfortable for the long haul. And I was getting my first look at the course in person. What a sight.
When we returned to Pit Road, I quickly returned to our garage and helped push the 787B back out onto the apron so that he could be refueled and inspected for the last time. Dyno had turned in a mediocre 790-ish bhp from our once-inhuman R26B 4 rotor, but it would have to do for our purposes. I requested to have the gears set a bit long, with a maximum of 375 km/h for any drafting opportunities, and the car should theoretically run comfortably in the 340 km/h range in open air. It was just a matter of taking a bit longer to get up to speed.
Not much else to do but get ready for The Big Show at this point. I'd take the first two stints, then Flynn would take two, and we'd jockey back and forth with each subsequent stop so that fatigue would not get us. If one was in The Groove, of course, we could always drive the maximum allowed by the ACO and pull 3 straight runs, but that would be pushing it in this portable human blender. I was sore just from the drive from the lot to the course, and that was only about 20 km.
As we waited for the red, blue and white flag to drop and the show planes from the Armee de l'Aire to fly overhead dropping the national colors behind, the tension became more and more palpable. Flynn was nervous. Our pit crew was nervous. I was a wreck. My first time here, and I decide to go gunning for the big dogs and take down not just Kristensen's R8 but Raikonnen's C9 also. What was I thinking!? Jitters settled in as the clock struck 2:40pm. Time for the drivers to get in their cars. Man. What have I done...
It's a mellow lap around the course, seeing all the fans and service crew lining the infield and the outer fence, cheering for us, looking forward to the excitement that is to last the next full 24 hours. I hear (even over the screaming R26B) the shouts of the fans and spectators. I see the flash of numberless cameras forever immortalizing me and this machine on the field for this legendary race. I hope I can earn this honor. I hope I can make it worth their while.
As we drift through the Porsche Curves, then Karting, then through Maison Blanche, the clock ticks inexorably closer to 3:00 and the start of the hardest 24 hours of my life. Finally, we pass pit road and go into Ford Chicane. Then it's the second Ford Chicane, then next thing I know, I see trails of red, white and blue streaking across the sky overhead. I hear the wail of the oppositions' engines, and I see the flag fall. It is surreal. It's like time has stood still so that I can soak this moment in. Remember it forever. Ingrain it into my memory, so that it never leaves me. I capture it all, and relish the last instant before...
to be continued
Fortunately, I had Flynn and his PR firm in northern Italy to grease the wheels for me and our entry into Le Mans. He was able to secure us a last-minute entry into the field. We had to start dead last in the class, but we allowed on the course, at least. He also managed to point some blind eyes in our direction by the Licensing agents from the ACO. He was also able to arrange a meet-n-greet with none other than Tom Kristensen (who would be reprising his attempt in the R8) and Henri Pescarolo, the legend with 33 LM appearances who was also crew chief for his Judd-powered C60. I was honored and was able to secure some autographs for my family.
As we retired to our less than comfortable cots in the garage for the night (Flynn's paranoid, and I'm not much better), the revelry and humor wore away and we started to come to grips with the big challenge that lay ahead. We're racing in a serious competition against numerous race winners driving legendary cars in a grueling test of skill and endurance. We were in way over our heads. Sleep did not come easy that night for either of us...
As dawn broke, I was awake and staring at the ceiling of our rented garage listening to Flynn snore from the other side of the garage and stewing about what was to come. I heard some of the other drivers and crew members arriving to set about their preparations. I couldn't shake my concerns about the upcoming race, and decided to make myself some coffee and run some last-minute checks on the car.
A little about our competition:
The Audi R8 driven by Tom Kristensen was to receive honors due to his repeated successes at this course, and the legendary status of the machine he was to pilot yet again. He sat pole at the opening of the race. He was to be assisted by an unknown rookie driver by the name of Franz Dittmer.
Next up was Roland Buttershire piloting the Bentley Speed 8, backed up by David Brabham, another legend in his own right.
Sitting third was the venerable R89C piloted by Gosuke Yamaguchi and Heero Watanabe, a talented pair of fresh drivers from rural Hokkaido.
Henri Pescarolo's Judd-powered C60 suffered from some traction issues during qualifications, and as such was relegated to 4th place. He selected Jean Claude Aurac, grandson of Claude Aurac who had nearly died during the filming of the '70 classic Le Mans starring Steve McQueen. Aurac would be helped by Anton Giuseppe from Naples.
Finally, we come to the 900kg gorilla snarling at the rest of the field from a surprising 5th place: the Sauber Mercedes C9. The silver arrow was to be piloted by Kimi Raikonnen and Wayne Hill (nephew to Damon Hill, F1 legend) and was sure to be a force to be reckoned with.
We've got our work cut out for us...
The pit crew showed up around 9:00 after a hearty breakfast in the Infield facilities and began to make the last minute adjustments to the chassis and suspension before we were to take our untested machine onto the unforgiving Sarthe course. We opted to put a 70kg ballast load just under the driver's seat to pull some extra weight toward the front wheels in the hopes of improving traction and braking load. Of course, since we missed qualifications, who knows how well it will work.
ACO judges and inspectors made their rounds just before lunch and assigned us with a 180 point deficit when compared to our competition. We were heavy, slow and floppy and we were running on slicks. Our delivery truck carrying our hard and medium compound tires was stuck in traffic with all the spectators currently flooding the streets leading to the race. I couldn't wait until I saw those Dunlops sitting in the garage, but we had to make do with these slick Michelins that were on the car when we purchased it for at least the first stint. No biggie, it's just a half hour or so, then we'll get to run on hard compound as long as we want.
Since I was a complete n00b on the course, I opted to take some time and ride with the inspectors as they toured the course checking on the final preparations for the track itself. The Hunaudieres highway was cordoned off and the barriers at each of the Ralentisseurs was being constructed. The Mulsanne Kink and Corner were being fortified against the horrible possibility of a crash. Random emergency response personnel were setting up their supplies and making themselves comfortable for the long haul. And I was getting my first look at the course in person. What a sight.
When we returned to Pit Road, I quickly returned to our garage and helped push the 787B back out onto the apron so that he could be refueled and inspected for the last time. Dyno had turned in a mediocre 790-ish bhp from our once-inhuman R26B 4 rotor, but it would have to do for our purposes. I requested to have the gears set a bit long, with a maximum of 375 km/h for any drafting opportunities, and the car should theoretically run comfortably in the 340 km/h range in open air. It was just a matter of taking a bit longer to get up to speed.
Not much else to do but get ready for The Big Show at this point. I'd take the first two stints, then Flynn would take two, and we'd jockey back and forth with each subsequent stop so that fatigue would not get us. If one was in The Groove, of course, we could always drive the maximum allowed by the ACO and pull 3 straight runs, but that would be pushing it in this portable human blender. I was sore just from the drive from the lot to the course, and that was only about 20 km.
As we waited for the red, blue and white flag to drop and the show planes from the Armee de l'Aire to fly overhead dropping the national colors behind, the tension became more and more palpable. Flynn was nervous. Our pit crew was nervous. I was a wreck. My first time here, and I decide to go gunning for the big dogs and take down not just Kristensen's R8 but Raikonnen's C9 also. What was I thinking!? Jitters settled in as the clock struck 2:40pm. Time for the drivers to get in their cars. Man. What have I done...
It's a mellow lap around the course, seeing all the fans and service crew lining the infield and the outer fence, cheering for us, looking forward to the excitement that is to last the next full 24 hours. I hear (even over the screaming R26B) the shouts of the fans and spectators. I see the flash of numberless cameras forever immortalizing me and this machine on the field for this legendary race. I hope I can earn this honor. I hope I can make it worth their while.
As we drift through the Porsche Curves, then Karting, then through Maison Blanche, the clock ticks inexorably closer to 3:00 and the start of the hardest 24 hours of my life. Finally, we pass pit road and go into Ford Chicane. Then it's the second Ford Chicane, then next thing I know, I see trails of red, white and blue streaking across the sky overhead. I hear the wail of the oppositions' engines, and I see the flag fall. It is surreal. It's like time has stood still so that I can soak this moment in. Remember it forever. Ingrain it into my memory, so that it never leaves me. I capture it all, and relish the last instant before...
to be continued
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