Part 1 – the lead up
Compared to the last trip back in 2016, it was a relatively calm build up to the journey this time around…well, to begin with anyway. With project “dry sump” apparently complete, dyno tested and appearing to be in good working order, all I thought we needed was to wash and wax my neglected bodywork and wheels, pack some stuff up and try to get as many miles on the car as possible to iron out any issues that might be waiting.
I’d driven a few hundred miles since the conversion work, maybe 300 or 400 in total, the longest being the trip to and from VRS in Northampton to spend some quality dyno time with our friend Dave Rowe. I will report back on this separately, but so far the car felt great- solid and ferocious….the weak link (as usual) being me! I am inherently in tune with this car, having spent so long listening, and feeling how she goes to try and spot any potential issues before they develop. The problem now was that the concerto of mechanical tunes she makes had changed since installing the dry sump, and I was nervous of every one of them: it was going to take a while to re-calibrate my sense of what was the new “normal”, and hence everything is ok.
Still, nervousness aside, it all looked good to go…so with a few weeks to go before departure I started cleaning her up. Full wash, a bit of a polish job, and then some time waxing and shining…and she was looking pretty mint again (although I was struggling to see it as I once had, it would appear that too much time playing with other folks more exotic metal has spoilt me).
That aside, I was pretty much ready to start loading up, I pulled her out of the garage and onto the drive to start when I noticed a puddle under the front of the car…I did the usual diagnosis, dipping my finger in it and rubbing it around to see if it was oil, apparently not- so a quick taste- was it coolant?
Well, I couldn’t be sure if I could taste anti-freeze or not, but it wasn’t clean water for sure.
Nothing else for it, I needed the cars coolant system to be rock solid for the assault on the Pyrenees passes we had planned, so car up in the air and front flat floor out, let’s find any potential source of leakage. The position of the puddle on the top side of the underfloor panel suggested it wasn’t a coolant leak as it was in the wrong place, but I was here now- may as well make sure.
On inspection one potential source was a slightly off angle hose clamp on the outlet of the electric water pump, it looked dry, but just a bit off. Wanting to make sure I decided to loosen and reseat it, and in doing so took a nice shower in antifreeze…at this point I realised that the puddle I had tasted was absolutely not coolant, there was no mistaking the foul taste of antifreeze I was showering in!
Anyway- pipework back together, and under floor back in place, all good to go…or so I thought, the next day- yes, you guessed it- a new puddle, and this time it was definitely coolant!!
Was it residual coolant from my shower the previous day, or a real leak? No way to tell except to repeat the procedure, and sure enough the joint I had “repaired” was indeed now leaking! Something springs to mind about “if it ain’t broke don’t fix it”…ooops.
At this point I was now due to leave the next day, so not a big deal- but still my anxiety levels were starting to rise, I needed to pack still and things were crazy at work, meaning very limited time on my hands. To cut through it, after another two attempts, it was still leaking, and I was now due to leave in an hour…the problem was the final bend in the aluminium pipework was a fraction too close to the end of the pipe where the silicon joiner was seating, and it was making it really tricky to correctly seat the hose joiner for a proper seal- hence the fact the hose clamp looked a bit off the first time I checked it.
In the end I pulled to pipe out of the car, spent some time with a file to improve the seating area on it, then installed the silicon joiner and clamp on the bench where I could be sure it was right.
Finally- ready to roll!!
Teary goodbyes with Ellie (my better half) done, I programmed the sat nav for Portsmouth a set off- ETA 3pm, just when Peter and the rest of the crew were forecasted to arrive: perfect! Well, that is until about half an hour into the drive and I started to notice a slight hesitance on part throttle…I tried to gloss over it, but it progressed to get worse until I was forced to acknowledge that all was not well.
I pulled over into a layby and plugged in the laptop, the data logs showed everything to be looking normal, no cam or crank signal errors, no knocking. Odd. I disabled the closed loop wide band lambda setting, and carried on driving keeping a close eye on lambda readings…nothing obviously wrong.
But things were not right, and I suspected I was now beginning to lose ignition on one cylinder. Perfect! I pulled into Membury services on the M4, and dug out my toolkit (which I’d packed right at the bottom of the front of the car, not expecting to need to break into it quite so soon). I pulled the spark plugs, and sure enough cylinders 2,3 & 4 where looking like they’d been running hot, whereas number 1 was black.
I now had two chances- either the plug was goosed, or the coil was…the first option being fixable, the second meaning I’d be turning round and limping home with my tail between my legs…dreams of another LeMans trip well and truly dead.
Now one of the tricky parts of packing for a long trip in an extremely modified car is deciding what spares to take, you can’t take too much as you add so much weight the driving fun is compromised, but you need enough to be self sufficient for any reasonable scenarios you might encounter. Difficult! Luckily, I had brought a spare set of spark plugs…nice!
I quickly swapped them into the car, with a small crowd of people around me in the services car park watching what I was doing, and in replacing the coils noticed that the mating plug on number 1 looked a bit loose. Maybe that was all it was- a loose connection??
The acid test was starting her back up, and sure enough- we were back to four cylinders! Happy days- we didn’t have to give up on the trip just yet!!
Tools back in the car, and I was back on my way with the car once again feeling solid, and my anxiety levels through the roof…man I love having to live with stress…
I arrived at Portsmouth twenty minutes later than originally forecast, filled up the tank at the last Shell garage we’d see for a couple weeks, and then hit the docks. Before I knew it I was chatting to a pleasant security lady as she checked my car over for bombs, and other terrorist related paraphernalia, discussing the merits of being a biker (her) versus a car person (me), she did seem to enjoy how colourful my engine bay was anyhow!
Then into the queue and I sat waiting for the release of built up anxiety, and a calm feeling of “made it” to kick in…but nothing. I phoned Peter, and it turned out I had actually managed to beat them to the boat this time, despite my brief spell in the pits at Membury services.
I was soon on the boat, and finding my cabin, before heading to the bar and meeting up with the rest of the party…let the beer start to flow! Still feeling a bit out of place I did my best to relax, and this was helped by the group being so welcoming and friendly.
A good dinner in the on board restaurant, and I was ready to collapse- the stress levels of the last few weeks starting to drain me as I started to relax…I was gently lulled to sleep by the mild motion of the boat in the water and did my best to forget about all my worries…
Part 2 – Out of the ferry and into the unknown
Day two and the challenge was to stay asleep as long as possible with the knowledge that the day would be spent sitting around (nervously in my case) awaiting our arrival in Spain. I awoke a bit groggy and headed to the bar for some tea, but seeing the prices compared to a breakfast, I was lured into the restaurant.
Many croissants and pain o chocolate later, I emerged a bit shell shocked only to bump into Peter and Carol…up onto the top deck, and sure enough- Trevor and Carol were to be found by the pool.
The day disappeared slowly, episodes of Family Guy on my laptop helped, and I think I bored Peter to death with pictures from my dry sump project…sorry mate.
Eventually we were due into Santander, and finally I was headed back to the car…after 30 minutes waiting (and praying it would start) the cars in front finally started to move…only the poor guy in the Z4 next to me couldn’t start his car. Guessing the battery had gone flat as he’d left his alarm on for the trip and the car had merrily been playing tunes to itself all night.
I had jump leads, and no one else was helping him (in fact the other cars were starting to go around him), so I jumped out and went to offer assistance…despite the tiny lithium battery I’ve got in my car (but I figured it might work with my engine running). However he had other ideas, and the next thing I knew I was trying to push his car for him to attempt to jump start it.
At this point another of the passenger finally took pity, probably after watching me fall over a couple of times on the greasy deck trying to push this car. Needless to say we failed to get it going, but were rescued by a member of the crew with a jump start pack…phew!
Back into my car and what do you know…it started on the button: happy days, here we come mountains!! I met up with the others just outside the port, and was a “bit” late- apparently they’d been waiting a while for me….ooops.
That aside, off we set and we were soon onto the roads- here we go!
I started at the back, but after John dumped a cloud of diesel smog on me from his van, I decided to put my right foot down and jump ahead to duck in behind Peter, who was (as usual) leading. I gave him a little wave, and the last two years were forgotten- here I was tucked in behind the Noble once again for the journey.
It didn’t last.
Within thirty seconds I started to realise something was amiss. The car seemed be stuck at a certain speed, and it took me a few seconds to realise it was no longer responding to said right foot. Not even a little.
The car was still going, but wouldn’t speed up or slow down in response to my inputs…and I eventually twigged that the throttle pedal was doing nothing…nothing at all.
I was starting to fall behind Peter, and the others all overtook until finally Trevor was the last behind me, when the call came over the radio from Carol…”everything ok Ashley?”
Umm….not really, but not wanting to let the others down, I replied I was having an issue but not too worry, I’d catch them up once I’d sorted it. But Carol refused, and they stayed with me as I slowed further and searched for a suitable make-shift pit area.
Once I’d pulled up and put the car in neutral the revs climbed, and it was apparent that the throttle was open to a certain point and not moving…I pulled the throttle pedal plug off, stuck it back on, checked the plug on the throttle body…nothing obvious at all. The sensor mechanism on the pedal seemed to working as expected, so why couldn’t the ECU see a throttle pedal signal??
I have to admit- I don’t know what happened, but some combination of switching the power off, and playing with the throttle pedal and it’s connection seemed to work, and the throttle suddenly came to life again.
Great! I could drive again, but damned if I knew what the problem was, which is the worst kind of issue…how do you solve it, or even prevent it from happening again, if you don’t know how you fixed it??
Still, we took off in pursuit of the rest of the convoy, and despite the best efforts of our (Trevor’s) right feet, the others persisted in not appearing on the horizon. Peter had mentioned a new route for the day which meant B-roads instead of motorway, which Trevor apparently had programmed into his sat nav, but the roads we were on where undeniably motorways.
We arrived at the hotel for the first night, and sure enough we were the first there…we’d managed to take a different, less interesting, route and had beaten them there. We were greeted by a local lady who I assume owns, or works for someone who owns the courtyard we use as a carpark. She spoke no English at all, and we spoke no Spanish…at all.
But this in no way deterred her from spending the next half hour trying to talk to me, Trevor and Carol sensibly went off the find their room, while I waited with Spanish lady for the others to arrive. That was a long half hour…
Eventually I heard Peter’s Noble approaching, and sure enough the rest of the party had arrived, complete with a new story of Wayne attempting to drive through the back of Peter’s Noble and into an Armco barrier….apparently he decided to hit the throttle instead of the brake at the lead into a hairpin, or something.
I felt terrible for causing Trevor and Carol to miss out on the new route, and apologised a few times…but truth be said, I felt worse about not knowing the cause of the problem, and more to the point- wondering whether it would happen again…
The evening was a blast, I love this village- the locals are so friendly, despite not a word of English being spoken. We were soon several beers in, and ordering food of a menu we couldn’t read with the help of Google translate on Trevor’s phone. An excellent meal of fried baby squid, garlic potatoes, hamburgers with bacon and eggs on top followed, and the party were soon stuffed full, and plenty merry….good times!!
I opted to join the early’ish to bed crew following news of the 8.30 call to breakfast in the morning, and headed to bed trying to decide if there was anything I could do in the morning to identify and resolve the issue with my throttle pedal…tomorrow will tell!!
Part 3 – high pass border run
The next day started far too early, although I actually felt surprisingly alert given the broken nights sleep listening to the locals thoroughly enjoy their Saturday night festivities. It turned out that we had probably, although inadvertently, arranged for breakfast to be served at 9am with the nice Spanish lady in the courtyard we parked at the prior evening…we thought we were telling her what time we planned to leave in our cars...
So the early down for breakfast for 8.15 start turned out to be in vain, but that did provide a window of opportunity to load my kit back in the car, and plug in with the laptop for some testing following my throttle pedal issues yesterday.
A bit of testing revealed that both the primary, and the back up sensors in the pedal appeared to be functioning as expected, and the ECU was having no issues receiving the signals…I could also hear the throttle plate itself moving open and shut, so all seemed good to go.
A quick breakfast followed where I somehow tried to order Carol a cup of tea with hot chocolate in it as well…ooops, maybe not quite as awake as I thought I was! Damn this language barrier.
Anyhow we were soon back at the cars and ready to push on into the morning, and the first couple of hours of motorways was soon over- we were at our first rest stop of the day…time for caffeine, this time without chocolate in it. We were greeted with a very excited young lady at this stop, who was literally squealing and babbling in Spanish about our cars. Peter soon had the Nobles skirts lifted for her, showing off both of his turbos much to her very vocal delight.
She even made appropriate noises looking in my engine bay, and seemed to have a special kind of funny moment when she touched the engine lid…pretty standard reaction really, just not usually from the ladies.
It was a surprise when the others let me know she was actually a copper, and exactly how much had we told her about how quick our cars were?!
Then it was time to head to some old railway station that was a noted local landmark, and in fairness it was a pretty cool looking building…I even managed to get it in the background for one of the compulsory parked cars photos. Hey, at least I tried…
Following lunch it was then time to hit the twist back mountain roads for some fun, albeit in the pouring rain and thunder storms. It was fun, and the scenery (what you could see) was spectacular, but it was a shame about the rain keeping the lid on our fun.
I have to admit I didn’t much care, I was too busy feeling the relaxation kick in as I pushed my car harder and harder all day, and it just felt better and better…it never missed a beat!
Confidence levels rising, I could feel the tension actually dropping in me, and it was as if a weight was being lifted off my shoulders…the impending sense of doom was fading, and I actually caught myself thinking that this might actually be alright!
Although I never dared say it for fear of tempting fate…
We soon crossed the border into France, and I think we hit three significant peaks:
Col d'Aubisque – 1,709m Col de Soulor – 1,474m Col Du Pourtalet 1,794m
We stopped for coffee at the final pass, where Peter said a sad farewell to his driving boots which had died earlier in the day, with the sole coming loose and getting stuck under his accelerator pedal. I urged him to bury them at the top of the pass, they’d certainly been up there enough times (Peter’s been doing this same trip for 20 odd years now), but I think they unceremoniously ended up in the café bin.
The roads were perilous, more than soaking wet, and for the last half of the accent we were in the clouds with very very little visibility, but we were all happy and having fun, if felling a little zoned out due to the consistent concentration levels required to keep our cars on the roads round the twisting, tight hairpins. It was lovely to get a chance to be using first gear in anger again, with sensible applications ( for the most part) of boost to keep things moving!
It was with a jovial mood that we arrives at Hotel Le Picors for the night, and I was just buzzing about how my car had performed…back to her usual self, and making me smile…happy days!!
I could tell the crew were tired as everyone disappeared to their rooms immediately, with plans to meet up later in the bar before dinner…and I have to admit I nearly fell asleep on my bed almost immediately. I managed to rouse myself, spent a few minutes tweaking the fuel and ignition map on my car at the bottom end of the rev range- trying to prevent the engine occasionally stalling when I let the revs drop too low…not sure if I’ve helped, but I’ve attempted to combat this with a couple degrees of ignition advance, and a slightly richer fuel mix in these cells of the map…we shall see, the experimentation in itself is fun anyway!!
A couple hours later and we were all back in the bar following a few drinks, and a decent meal…and yes, an early night for pretty much everyone, myself included. We’ve a long day of driving tomorrow, and given that the hotel owner shared with us that it had been raining everyday for the last month, it is likely we’ll be in the wet again.
I’m not entirely sure how many mountain passes we attack tomorrow, but it’s followed by a 300km drive up the French coast afterwards…so yes, sleep seems a sensible option, and on that note…
Part 4 – mountain passes, then an exit through the foothills
We were greeted by the sunshine the next morning, a relief after the rain of the prior day…although looking at the mountains surrounding the hotel it was obvious that the local weather systems were moving through quickly. We would definitely be seeing some of the wet stuff today, but it was good to go first thing...
After breakfast and packing up we headed into the mountains in search of the blessed switch-back tarmac goodness that seems to attract so many here…cyclists and petrol heads alike. The first pass of the day (Luz Ardiden at 1,720m) leads you into the ascent with a lovely build up of straights leading up the slope, with hairpins at each end…the straights getting shorter and shorter as you get higher.
It was the perfect mix of dry, with residual moisture on the tarmac, to instigate lots of tail out action round the hairpins: race to the entrance, having scanned up and ahead to make sure the road was clear, then a wide entry to the corner using the whole width of the road, heel-toe down into 1st gear and bury the nose tight into the bend, before coming round and feeding in the power as boost builds up.
Oversteer was readily available in response to a more aggressive right foot, and the car responded by lighting up both rear wheels through the diff, and letting the back end of the car slide out…the trick being to try and catch it with opposite lock on the steering wheel before ending up facing back down hill…or worse!
Speaking of which, there was obviously some experimentation by the guys in testing the limits of their cars and driving skills!
Wayne once again managed to not turn for a tight hairpin corner, ending up almost in the side of the mountain, but with no actual contact, and nothing more than kick in his pride.
Me and Trevor drove around the back of his car laughing, and Peter was on the radio to make sure everything was ok…it was pretty much at the next hairpin that Trevor then over cooked his drifting attempt, and ended up screeching to a halt sideways across the road in front of mer- it was obviously catching!!
In fairness I think what happened was that we’d been having so much fun playing with the corners lower down the mountain, that Trevor had failed to clock that the temperatures had rapidly dropped up where we currently were- and so had the grip levels…although I’m sure he’ll correct me if I’m wrong.
All good harmless fun, and at very low actual speeds given the environment and conditions…a most excellent learning experience, who says MR2’s can’t drift?!
We soon arrived at the summit of the pass and pulled into the carpark to let John catch up in his van, we’d been driving into the clouds for the final part of the ascent, and conditions were starting to get wetter again.
Sure enough the next pass was extremely misty for the latter half of the ascent, with slippy roads, and lots of die hard cyclists pitting their stamina against the mountain to contend with. But that said, still huge fun…I felt nicely in tune with my car, and it was an all encompassing feeling to be back behind the wheel driving her hard, just as she was built to do. There’s so much of me in this car through the history we have, and all the time I've given in creating what she is today- the icing on the cake is being able to truly enjoy the outcome. Most of what I’ve put into this project has been driven by the want to learn new things, but this driving experience sure is an added incentive!
We stopped at the summit of the pass over Col de Tourmalet (2,115m) for coffee in the site café, listening to the cyclists who had (somehow) made it to the top as they prepared for the descent…those guys are seriously crazy, I can’t comprehend how they drive themselves through such a torturous activity. I’m not sure if I respect, or am simply baffled by them- but hats off, they are seriously hardcore!
There were a few more ups and downs after that, but the weather had really closed in, and with low visibility, slippery roads, and a multitude of hazards (other cars, cyclists, cows) on the roads, driving hard simply wasn’t an option. Just as well really, I was feeling pretty phased after the morning- the adrenaline fueled start to the day, followed by periods of intense concentration had taken their toll already…time for lunch.
After lunch we said good bye to the mountains for another year, and descended north through the foothills before a long motorway drive in torrential conditions up to Langon, to the south east of Bordeaux on the river Garonne. Peter had booked us into a Michelin starred hotel/ restaurant for the night- a last taste of civilisation before the move into camping at the race track.
Maison Claude Darroze is a nice enough hotel, if a bit pricey!! But I do have to admit the experience of eating in the restaurant was special. There were highs on lows to the meal, but I really enjoyed it…you just had to suspend your sense of value for money, and let yourself enjoy it. Good company was an added bonus for sure.
I could try to describe some of the stuff we ate, but my palate simply isn’t sophisticated enough to allow me the words to do this food justice. It was dam good!
And that saw the end of another day, and the end of the “driving” part of the trip as we leave the mountains behind us, (although we do of course have many many miles to cover still). Once again I was very happy with the performance of my car, the only slight niggle being a slight tapping noise that has developed over the trip- which sounds like it’s probably a cam bucket…so one to keep an eye on, and I’ll go over the valve lash clearances again when I get home to correct it. Hopefully not a big deal...
The overwhelming memory at this stage is hooning up switch back roads in first, second and third gear, lots of boost, the savage screaming howl of my exhaust filling the cabin, and a huge grin plastered across my face…is there a better feeling??!
Part 5 – and relax
Today was a much more chilled event altogether…a relatively late start to the day, meeting up with the crew in the restaurant for breakfast, then the usual confusion of settling the bill with the added complication of having to identify exactly what each of us had eaten and drunk the night before…fun fun fun!
Still, that behind us, and in good humour we hit the road- a gentle b-road bash through the French countryside, avoiding the motorways, with plenty of time to soak in the villages, forests and general surroundings. We arrived at the coast late morning, with an obligatory climb up the Dune du Pilot, one of (if not the) highest sand dunes in Europe.
Once at the top (and we’d caught our breath), we took in the views across the bay, and behind us over the forest spreading for as far as the eye could see…this was starting to feel like a holiday. It’s one if the odd things I’ve noticed about long road trips, because you never get on a plane, the fact you are actually a long way from home seems to take a while to dawn on me. Maybe it’s because you’re cocooned in the car the whole time, with the scenery somehow just passing by, you never really connect with it.
Or maybe it’s just me!
Anyhow, the feeling of being away from everyday life was starting to take hold, and after refreshments we headed north to Arcachon, and Hotel Dauphin- our home for the night. We were too early to check in, so spent the afternoon walking the sea front, eventually settling in a café for baguettes and beers (or coffee in my case).
The hotel is very nice, and the afternoon was spent resting followed by a swim in the outdoor pool for me, the temperature of the water serving to wake me up a bit before heading into the village for dinner. I took the opportunity to call home while waiting for the others and caught my girls as they were in the allotment eating strawberries…I even spoke to Gemma (my oldest at almost 5), and all I can say is it’s true what they say about absence and the heart.
It was with a tear in my eye that I said goodbye, hung up and went to find the others. We wandered away from the beaten tourist track, and found a small restaurant/ bistro serving food fresh from the ocean.
A huge bowl of muscles, with fries, all washed down with plenty of Heineken, and things were feeling fine again. We wandered back along the beach, before I left the others to go off in search of crepes, while I headed back to base for the night….we’ve a long drive tomorrow, with the final leg up to Le Mans, camping and the high octane environment that is the 24 hours of Le Mans race.
With a bit of luck we’ll be at the track for the 4pm start to first free practice, and already the excitement of getting fully immersed in the race again is starting to kick in…here we go!!
Part 6 – race report and the trip home
The attempted early departure to head to Le Mans was slightly delayed in a very Top Gear'esque comedy of errors as we left the hotel...what had been a bit of a scrape to get into the carpark became mission impossible to leave again. We went into full DIY mode, and with the help of John's caravan ramps, and some spare paving slabs in the carpark, we managed to build a bridge to allow Peter's Noble to clear the exit ramp, well- in reverse anyway!
As it turned out we all needed help getting out, and after a good half hour of fun and games we were finally free and ready to hit the road.
The long drive to Le Mans was a pretty uneventful trip, with a single stop for lunch, and Trevor, Carol and myself opting to ramp up the pace a bit, so leaving the others behind and arriving at the camp site first. A decent spot secured, on the edge of the action with our backs protected by the fence that divides the campsite from the race track…and most importantly, not too close to the various party tents that were being set up!
The others soon arrived, and before long we had our camp established…time to hit the supermarket for the ritual barbeque makings for that evening, and maybe a few beers. We opted to skip free practice, and enjoyed a dinner watching other folk in various states of sobriety with the sounds of race cars exploring the track behind us.
Then it was up to the track for qualifying 1, and a first look at this year’s cars on track…you forget just how ear splittingly loud these machines are, and I soon had my trusty earphones in place with our old friend Radio Le Mans playing away. It was an interesting session, with a good few cars spinning off the left-right bend in front of us, just before the Dunlop bridge.
The campsite wasn’t too crazy that night, with most of the die hard party louts yet to arrive…and some semblance of sleep was achieved!
The next day had rain threatening, and after a trip to Arnage for the super market, we settled down in camp to relax and continue to people watch before qualifying 2 and 3 that evening. The first qualifying session ended early due to a large smash up, and continued red flagged circuit…me and Peter beat a hasty retreat back to camp to barbeque our dinner, before racing back to the grandstand for the final qualifying session.
We took full advantage of the grandstands all being generally open still (which changes once the race proper starts) and grabbed seats on the start – finish straight, directly opposite the pits. What an amazing view, being able to see down into the individual garages and watching the pit crews working away, as well as various driver changes.
There was a lot of talk about two main issues with the lead up to the race so far:
The amount of Porsches spinning off track
The “balance” of performance tweaks by the race officials which had put the two Toyota hybrids at over 2 seconds a lap faster than the next fastest LMP1 cars
The issue with the Porsches seemed to be a result of a concerted effort to make sure the two GTE classes were won by the marque this year…lots of pressure on the drivers, and the cars trimmed down for all out speed and the expense of downforce, and hence handling. Add that to a relatively green track following several large rain storms (which had washed away the rubber, and hence grip), and you had a recipe for lots of twitchy handling, and unexpected spin offs.
Not sure if this was exacerbated by the switch in layout in the cars, with the engine no longer hanging out the back as per the classic 911 layout, and instead now in front of the gearbox as in the Cayman layout.
The balance of performance tweaks was annoying for me: basically the race officials do everything they can to create an interesting, well matched field to provide good “racing” for the crowds. In order to do this they tweak fuel allowances (a number of measures, but the main one being limited fuel flow volumes to the engine), reduced fuel flow reducing engine output, and so limiting race pace.
This year there was only one manufacturer entering with hybrid technology: Toyota. In order to encourage their entry, it seems that the officials felt the need to bias their chances for victory- which would help Toyota justify the immense costs of this technology. I get that, and when you have multiple hybrid entrants it would seem to make sense, with a decent race resulting- for example the Toyota vs. Porsche battles of the last few years.
However, this year Porsche were not entered, so Toyota had effectively been given a huge advantage of the entirety of the rest of the competitors. To add to this, the officials said they’d been aiming for a half second advantage for the Toyotas in lap times…which had somehow actually become almost two and half seconds come qualifying! This was then compounds by the amount of fuel the rest of the cars were allowed to hold in their tanks- which stipulated that the Toyotas had to pit every 11 laps for refueling (which was then achieved quicker as they had smaller tanks), whereas the rest of the LMP entrants were limited to 10 laps, and longer refueling stops.
All in all, it was pretty obvious that the race was Toyota’s to lose, and all things being equal (which is rare in such a long race), the rest of the class were reliant on the Toyotas breaking in order for a chance of a win.
That aside, it was exciting to be back in the Le Mans atmosphere, and all eyes were turning to the race due to start on Saturday at 3pm.
Friday was a non-race day, and after a bad night’s sleep I did my best to stay asleep for as much of the day as possible, not easy in a small tent in the sunshine!! We did venture out to one of the many car shows put on though, this one being on the Mulsanne straight…basically they put on a themed show each year (this year being Corvettes), and then the public show up to show of their own exotic metal by parking in turn all the way down the Mulsanne straight, then venturing off on foot to view all the cars.
I snuck in behind Peter’s Noble and was allowed to park my car with all the show cars (bonus!), before heading off the see what was what. I left the others eating lunch and took my time wandering back down the straight taking pictures of anything that caught my eye; I spent a good twenty minutes in conversation with a local couple of guys who’d brought out an old TR6. Well, I say conversation- they spoke very broken English, and I speak very broken French, but we shared a common language of a passion for cars!
As I arrived back at our cars before the others, and out of curiosity, I figured I'd open the engine lid, bonnet and boot, as well as the driver's door...and leave some of the work I've done on display (most of which really is not obvious from the outside). I sat a little way off watching, and the typical response seemed to be something like: it's an MR2, look there's a Noble...oh might as well have a look in the engine bay while I'm passing...very confused looks, calling friends over to take a look, then in depth conversations as they tried to work out what was what....then finally out with the cameras, and then off to look at the Noble parked next to it.
It was very amusing to watch- and really drove home how successfully I have managed to put together a subtle car that really doesn't scream beast until you see under her skirts...love it! At one point I a group of Toyota guys (possibly part of the Toyota service team based by their matching Toyota Gazoo racing uniforms), they were very excited once they saw inside the car...I did enjoy that part!
Back at camp I opted not to go into town for the Driver’s parade, the thought of being crushed in a crowd of 300,000 other folks for four or five hours simply did not appeal…and the remainder of the day was slowly wiled away. That night was definitely rowdier in camp, with the relevant disco party tents now in full swing, and fireworks (or mortars!) regularly being set off throughout the night. Needless to say- very little sleep was achieved again…
One particular camping related issue stands out, it was probably mainly me who saw the funny side, but I couldn't resist a bit of a wind up on Peter. He'd broken his tent last trip out, and it was no longer water proof. So this time he had a new tent, and had kept the old (same model) one for spare parts- and had already liberated one of the poles as a spare.
The problem was he somehow managed to bring the old broken one, less the pole taken for spares, instead of the replacement! This meant he had to set up facing the fence, and use the fence to hold up half the tent...and we had to find some plastic sheets to provide a waterproof roof for it...I just loved the irony of a very very makeshift shelter setup directly behind his flashy car, well- at least I found it amusing!
After another failed attempt to sleep as long as I could, it was finally race day; 1pm saw us heading up into the circuit for the show before the start at 3pm. I lost Peter and Carol in the crowds, and made my way to the Dunlop Grandstand where we had tickets for the highest tier of seats- ideal!
By the time the soldiers had abseiled out of the helicopter, and the French red arrows had flown over, it was time for the race to start…but I was struggling. I was stupidly tired, and not particularly turned on by the race potential…it felt like a long slog watching the Toyotas try not the break down, and the GTE classes looked to be sewn up by the Porsches- not even the Fords seemed to have much chance.
I found myself struggling to stay awake two hours in, and did actually drift of several times in the stands…and I was starting to get stressed. How could I stay awake for the full 24 hours if I couldn’t even manage the first two hours? And I really didn’t want to let Peter down by not making it through the night, I know how much he loves seeing the race through.
I think I realised what was going on, and slapped my self round the face before heading back to camp where I slept for a couple of hours and tried to relax, I had a bite to eat then headed back to the stands with a decent stash of beers successfully smuggled in the bottom of my bag. I gave up on trying to stay up all night, and took the pressure off…I simply tried to enjoy the racing and sat in the stands drinking my beers!
I was now enjoying myself again, and stayed until midnight before retiring to my bed with Radio Le Mans for company…I woke about 3am and switched off the headphones before sleeping properly until morning. And yes- nothing had really changed in the race, with the Toyotas still running first and second…where they stayed until taking the chequered flag.
It was a dam good effort on their part, and full respect for finally winning the race, I just couldn’t silence the niggling voice in my head that hoped it wouldn’t be seen as somewhat of a hollow victory given the lack of any real competition. Certainly not a “classic” race in my opinion, but then again I really can’t claim to be any kind of expert…
That evening we followed tradition and headed to Buffalo Bills for a decent feed…ribs, steak and burgers- oh yes!!
The rest of the trip was uneventful, and I soon found myself twenty minutes out from Cherbourg, and the ferry ride back home. My car hadn’t missed a beat since the throttle pedal issue shortly after getting off the ferry in Santander, so it was a real surprise when the same issue occurred so close to the next ferry port….something very odd about the timing of that!!
I killed the engine, removed the pedal plug, then reset the whole lot- and the fault disappeared again…very very odd. I also noted my coolant temperatures were running about 2 degrees hotter than they had been for the rest of the trip.
That aside, I made it home safe and sound, and parked my car up on the drive before rushing inside to see my girls…it’s difficult to describe how much I missed them all. After this I came back out to put the car away in her garage to be confronted by a large puddle of coolant under the front end, and a decent patch of oil under the back…!! She’d made it back just fine, but was obviously ready for a rest now!
Looking back over the trip, on the whole it was great and I really did enjoy myself for the most part. The group I went with are so welcoming, and the trip was so well organised thanks to Peter…it’s hard to find fault. That said, I think my anxiety really beat me up…the car issues didn’t help at all.
I think the highlights for me were driving the mountain passes, and the race…which were the two driving factors behind me going again. But in reality we only really had two, maybe two and a half days of decent mountain roads…and I struggled to submerge myself into the race like I had in 2016. That and the amount I missed my family, well- I think this will be my last Le Mans trip for the foreseeable future.
Don’t get me wrong, it was great- but in terms of value for money I think I can get more driving time by doing UK based track days, and I think I’ll try Lauren’s approach to the race- stay at home and watch it with friends with Radio Le Mans over the internet. It won’t be the same, but I think the novelty of this particular road trip has worn off…there are a lot of other places in the world to explore, and it will be great to do it with my family next!!