It is one thing to be invited by Gulf Oil to experience the 24 hour of Le Mans, it is another thing entirely to be completely engulfed by it. Yet that is exactly what this historic brand had in mind last month when they threw me a pair of overalls and a cap and asked me if I was Le Man enough to be a part of the greatest racing event on earth.
Now as hard-core a fan as I am of F1, the experience of attending a Le Mans race live is on another level entirely. It has its own energy that is a combination of F1, rally, karting, NASCAR, Woodstock and New Years Eve all in one. It is a celebration like no other, and it is something every motor sports fan must do at least once in his/her life. This was my first time to attend the event. But I was told that there was a catch.
Before being given the privilege of watching the race unfold from the comforts of the the Aston Martin Racing hospitality suite, I needed to earn my keep by working in the pits with the team, which was a little confusing because it is like telling someone that they need to carry Bono’s microphone stand and be with him backstage before being given front row seats to the concert. Um, ok...
I arrive in the Le Mans train station after 26 hours of traveling in trains, planes, and automobiles. I’m met by a member of the Gulf Oil team who throws me in the back of a Citroen wagon and drives me straight to my accommodations, which is a house about 20 minutes’ to two hours’ drive from the circuit, depending on what time you leave and who you run into along the way. But more on that later.
We stop at the house long enough to put my suitcase down and then it was straight to the track to prepare for qualifying. We arrive just after 1:30pm, grab a quick bite at the hospitality center of Aston Martin Racing Team, where we meet the team, including former Williams F1 driver, Bruno Senna, but before we have a chance to soak up the glitz and glamour of the VIP area, we’re whisked off into the pits, given a pair of team overalls and gloves, and put to work.
My first assignment was to wash the tires and wheels then organize them in the tire oven according to their position on the car. Unlike F1, the world endurance championship are not allowed to use tire blankets, so they heat up a makeshift tent that keeps the tires at their optimum temperature. Now as insignificant as stacking tires may sound, one wrong move by me, like placing the left front in the right rear, could cost a race, so each member of the team is afforded the same respect and each job is given the same importance.
The pace at which they move is nowhere near the level of F1, but when you consider that they need to do it nonstop for the equivalent of 16 F1 races in one stint, it is even more impressive when you think about it. And as I approached my 42nd hour of being awake through countless timezones and ready to curl up and sleep in the tire oven, I began to fully appreciate the sacrfices needed to keep a team winning. And just as I was ready to throw the towel in, the payoff comes and the two Astons both snatch pole in their respective categories.
After I finished paying my dues, it was off to the actual race the following day, which begins at 2pm on Saturday and ends at, you guessed it, 2pm on Sunday, although the party had already been simmering for almost a week. Tens of thousands of tourists line the streets, drinking, singing and celebrating the world’s most famous racing event. At one point, our van is stopped by some Danish fans who insist we do a burn out in exchange for the pleasure of watching them skull their drinks. Our Chinese driver apologizes and says he cannot, so they skull their drinks to toast his honesty.
The following morning we leave our cottage at 8am despite the race not starting for another six hours. And just as well. What took us twenty minutes the day before is now about an hour, and we’re told that we were one of the lucky ones, because if you consider that the population more than doubles on this weekend, it is not hard to see why there may be a congestion issue. But with special passes on the van, we eventually get to the track with a little change to spare before lunch.
An hour or so before the race, we›re shuttled over to the other entrance as the Aston Martin owners club were allowed to take one hundred cars on the track for an honorary lap to celebrate the brand’s 100th birthday. I was promised a ride in one, but by some incredible stroke of luck, if not confusion, I was tossed the keys of the V12 Vantage convertible and told to just keep it shiny. Now although it wasn’t at racing speeds, lapping the circuit in front of 250,000 fans is something that ranks up there with the greatest experiences I’ve ever had in my career.