18 Jun 03
Some keen motorsport fans arrive in Le Mans on the Monday. To watch the pre-qualifying rounds and practices for the legendary 24-hour race, to be held from 4pm on the Saturday to 4pm on Sunday? No, to secure the best positions on the campsites. That meant that by Thursday night, the Maison Blanche site was packed out already. Forget the cliches about the Germans putting towels over sun-loungers; every carefully bagged patch of grass, fenced off with bunting, tape or rope was surrounded by British-registered vehicles, with Union Jacks and St George Crosses flying in national pride. An Englishman's home is his castle, and so is his campsite: each time we found a likely-looking few square inches, someone popped their head out of a tent to tell us that it was 'reserved' for their mates, or another car, or their gazebo, or their barbecue... luckily, before blows were exchanged (tensions were running high) we found an un-signposted gap in the hedge to an overflow field, with more room to pitch camp than anyone could need. The advance party, having blasted down in a Focus RS, we set up tents (complete with unpatriotic skull-and-crossbones flag) and waited for the second car in our group, a 1954 Citroen Traction Avant, to trundle in. Matt, John and the Citroen finally arrived after midnight, with a handy tip for all cross-Channel motorists: remember, if you arrive in France on a late ferry, there are very few all-night petrol stations open, and those that are open tend to be un-manned and take credit cards only. They'd had to hang out on an empty forecourt until they could persuade a friendly French motorist to pay for their petrol and be reimbursed in cash, no con, honest. Such persuasion is easier, however, if you have a classic French car (more on this later). At least there'd been no breakdowns so far.
Friday morning, and it's good to be in Le Mans again. After an absence last year - the World Cup and the inevitable prospect of an Audi 1-2-3 meant the event's appeal paled - we're ready for the world's greatest motor race. That means laying in supplies, so off to stock up on food, beer, sun cream, charcoal for the barbecue, candles and any necessities that have been forgotten (spare pants for John, toothpaste for me). A procession of car nuts wander over to talk about the Focus ("is the torque-steer as bad as they say?") though it's the Citroen that stands out as the star of the field, despite the line-up of Triumph TR6s, the Elises, the 911s, the Evos and the varied TVRs we can spot from our tent alone. It's something completely different, and everyone seems to want to come over for a chat. Matt wishes he has a computer handy to print out a series of stock responses: "Yes, it is front-wheel drive. Yes, they were built in Slough too, but this one was made in Paris. Yes, this one's a Commerciale, with a sort of hatchback..." He and John head up to the circuit to check out the results from pre-qualifying, then spend the rest of the day driving around the series of public roads that form part of the circuit, reaching a dizzy 55mph on the Mulsanne Straight. Dermot and I go for a cultural afternoon in nearby Tours, a lively medieval town on the Loire.
