Throughout history, men have sought to be challenged. Seeking to test their physical and mental strengths. Finding ways to stretch themselves to the very limits of their powers. In extremes of heat and cold. To the highest points and the deepest depths. Longest. Strongest. Fastest.
Our day ends pitched up at Municipal Camping Le Sans Souci, in Fresney sur Sarthe. A handful of kilometres from our earlier afternoon of pleasure. Courtesy of the Le Mans 24H Museum.
It’s one of those days when you just have to grin and bear. Cover to cover rain. Often torrential. We arrive in it. Leave in it. From the car park opposite, the barely visible entrance throws up a conundrum. Which will be quicker? Crawl, or butterfly?
We arrive a little over one hundred and one years since the first race. Then, it was conducted around the public streets. Nowadays each 13.626K lap is a combination of permanent track and public roads.
Visitors have the option of a combined ticket. Museum plus circuit. Today it’s limited to inside only. Beastie bemoans the weather. Having watched the film Ferrari and more recently Le Mans, we’re keen to do a dry lap. We shrug off our wets. At the drop of the Tricolor we head down the first straight.
We stay in first gear. Make a pit stop at every hoarding. Refuel with informative and interesting bits of info. Then we round the first bend. Faster than the first winners?
Not quite. They were André Lagache & René Léonard in their Chenard-Walcker Type U3 15CV Sport Convertable – capable of a top speed a little over 150kph.
Entering the first chicane, we catch, then overtake the best looking car by far.
Exiting we slow down, almost come to a spluttering standstill. Think better of it. Put our foot down, accelerate . . . leave this sore sight in our rear view mirrors.
We sweep over the finishing line to the chequered flag. Our three hour Le Mans doesn’t set any records, but at least we complete one full lap. Not every entrant can claim that.
Since 1978, motorbikes have done their own yearly thing too. Our lap of honour brings on a view of a fantastic looking moto.
The heaven’s are still crying their eyes out as we climb back into Beastie and his warm belly. When the weather is like this, there’s only one remedy . . .
