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Chris Dyson: From Le Mans, Where Fact is Always Stranger than Fiction…
6/24/2009
Scene 1
I awake in a fog, and search for my buzzing cell phone. It’s morning but I’m not sure where I am. It’s that point in the season where it takes a minute to remember. As the grogginess subsides and my consciousness starts to return, I recall the room. I’m at the RML team chateau and practice at Le Mans starts today.
There’s only one problem: Somehow, in my jetlag-sleepwalking-induced haze, I got up to use the “Water Closet” down the hall during the night and locked the door to my room when I returned. I don’t remember doing any of this. As the chateau pre-dates Charlemagne, the lock is now jammed and I can’t get out! (For those who know, what follows is not quite the same punch line as the “James Weaver Texas Super 8” story). But knowing that it’s 2 AM where I’m from, I can’t help but see the humor and draw some parallels.
I start laughing out loud, and then I realize that calling our host Francois is not an option because I don’t have his phone number and screaming out of my second-story window in distressed English or butchered French would hardly impress anyone at 8 AM. I really don’t want to trouble Mike Newton and inform him that his new American co-driver has locked himself up before first practice has even begun. So I figure I’ll start Tommy Erdos’s day with a light moment and ask him kindly to liberate me from my prison. In the middle of a shave, he begins laughing his head off in disbelief. Soon Francois was at my door to free me.
Tommy, naturally, doesn’t let me forget this throughout the rest of the week…
Scene 2
And they say the track is dangerous! Well, anyone who maintains that the Circuit de la Sarthe racing surface poses the most risk to “les pilotes” has not risked their lives in the week’s most dangerous event: the annual parade!
Picture this: Tommy, Mike and I sitting atop the rear seat of a Ford Model A Phaeton, which incidentally happens to be a left-hand drive version imported from the “island” of Uruguay (an entirely different story), surrounded by cheering Le Mans residents all hankering for a poster or autograph. This must be what rock stars feel like. Don’t let the glum faces on most of the drivers fool you: It’s an egotist’s dream come true and anyone who doesn’t enjoy this sort of interaction with passionate racing fans has to get their head checked.
It’s a dream, that is, until there’s a substantial gap between our car and the proceeding parade car. Then the dream becomes a nightmare as Juan our driver decides it would be a good idea to give the Model A’s clutch a threshold test, some 75 years after it left the showroom. Lots of revs, followed by Juan’s less-than-ideal clutch work equals a sudden surge forward, just as we are all reaching over the side of the vehicle signing objects and throwing posters into the crowd. The crowd follows the car’s surging action intently and their voices rise in both fear and excitement as they sense imminent danger, oddly in parallel with the three of us! Perhaps this sort of on the limit stuff is what the locals used to see when the likes of Collins, Moss and Hawthorne were drifting through Le Mans half a century ago. Somehow, inexplicably, we all manage to hang on, although Mike’s big toe will need checking later (he and Tommy will understand that one)! Our heart rates are at week-long highs here as we have well and truly dodged maiming and maybe even death. The crowd noise returns quickly to its natural murmur, but we all exchange knowing glances. Spectator and participant have become one in an instant, and all because Juan simply couldn’t contain his excitement. His nonchalance suggests that he has no idea just how much risk he has just taken with our lives. Oh well. Nothing that bottle of Loire red will make him forget later anyway. A few relieved expletives later, we resume the parade but all three of us are holding on much more tightly.
Go figure that in less than 24 Hours we’ll be zooming through the woods on a ribbon of asphalt at 200 mph, but as the parade ends I feel that the racing will be far less risky than this!
Scene 3
Less than an hour after the parade and our near death experience(s), Tommy, Mike and I are driving at a leisurely pace from historic downtown Le Mans back to the circuit where our pre-race dinner is being lovingly prepared. We are all ravished and ready to head off from the circuit and back to the chateau. Tommy is expertly placed behind the wheel.
My mind was wandering hopelessly as I think about the next day. 24 Hour races are anticlimactic. How do you get excited or nervous about a race that will literally take a day to complete? The answer, I have found, is to have as little emotion as possible and hope for the best. That way, you sleep well the night before and you’re not let down if something disappointing happens. Our team has won the “22 Hours” of Daytona overall five times but the 24 Hours only twice. Anything can happen and nothing is a sure bet in endurance racing.
I am pondering the race as we come into town and all of a sudden I see two Frenchmen, looking like officers, gesticulating wildly and pointing at us. “What the do those two want?” we ask ourselves, in slightly more colorful language. The answer: 90 Euros for an alleged speeding infraction. We were not at all impressed with this as Tommy was certainly not speeding.
So what do these two do? After making us sit for what seems like an eternity, they try to escort us back to the circuit. It’s only when we pull over to the side of the road and a large fire breaks out on a house nearby (I am not kidding) that they lose interest in “teaching us a lesson” and agree to accept cash and move on. Our hunger at this point is incredible and we’re all just trying not to get too annoyed. I thank Tommy later for calming me down and “being a good father.” I was just about to get into tip mode (not a gratuity) due to my infamous low blood sugar temper, and Tommy pulled me back from that ledge.
Can you imagine what it would have been like to have begun my Le Mans week locked in my chateau room, only to end up locked up in an actual Le Mans prison? And on an empty stomach, no less! I probably wouldn’t be writing to you now, that’s for sure.
Scene 4
We’ve just found out that the engine has expired just short of 21 hours after a very stellar run. On the one hand, in the grand scheme of things, I’m encouraged as the Mazda MZR-R engine reliability has improved massively since our debut at Sebring. We had a great car all race and we were in contention at Le Mans the whole time we were running. But at this moment, I really feel for the guys at RML and Mike Newton in particular because their disappointment is acute.
Phil Barker, who’s spent the entire week nursing a bum ankle but yet has kept it together throughout, has been an absolute star and a great leader for his troops. He’s absolutely earned a post-race “sports drink.”
Rick Perry, Phil’s stellar chief mechanic at RML, makes a point of telling the boys very shortly after the garage door is closed not to get their heads down and he correctly lets them know that they just have to get things together and regroup. Preparation for next race has just started and they have to move on.
One of the younger team members is devastated. He’s 17 years old and this is his first endurance race letdown. I remember feeling the same way when our engine blew at 8 AM Daytona in ’98, when I was just 19 and helping the boys in the pits all night. I make a point of going up to him and grabbing him and saying “Don’t worry, kid. You and the boys did a great job. There will be many more of these races and you can’t get too disappointed in this game.”
I realize that I sound like someone who’s been there before, and shortly after saying this it dawns on me that as the years have gone by, I’m now passing along lessons that I’ve learned to others. 24 Hours has passed quicker this time for me than it did that wonderful first appearance with Jan Lammers, when I was a wide-eyed kid not sure what was coming next. All of that talk about time accelerating as you get a bid older is not just BS; it’s actually happening to all of us.
I made a point of savoring every moment of my Le Mans experience, and it’s because of experiences like these that racing is unlike anything else. I really look forward to getting back there for another crack at that great race and for more fun memories.
Now, it’s onto Lime Rock and the second half of the ALMS. We are all very enthused about our competitiveness and the team is pushing hard to incorporate some developments that should take things to another level.
We’ll be sure to keep things interesting both on the track and on this site. Stay tuned!
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