The Main Event
The Le Mans 24 Hour race

You feel the kick of 25,000 bhp in the pit of your stomach as the world’s fastest sports cars literally leap forward in the first mad fight for position. Your nerve ends tingle with the adrenaline. The ear-splitting roar makes your head vibrate.  24 Heures du Mans, the most mystical event in the motor-racing calendar, is underway.
You think forward to all that’s ahead. The miles that you’ll cover through the long sleepless hours. The regular refuelling. The booming thunder of Panoz Spyders and the wail of Ferraris - like a billion mosquitoes.
And, later, the piercing glare of double headlamps slicing through the dusk and the glow of red-hot brakes. Flames shooting from exhaust pipes the size of casserole dishes. Tired eyes, weeping in the acrid fumes of burning rubber. In short, the phenomenon of 24 hours spent on the razor edge of endurance.
If this is what it’s like for the spectators, what must it be like for the drivers?
Every June the normally tranquil Sarthe region of France becomes one of the Meccas of the sports world and transforms overnight into a cosmopolitan town of a quarter of a million sleep-deprived pilgrims. Of this number around 60,000 Britons make the journey over, or under, the Channel. Many of these travel down in their own classic and modern sports cars, with the intention of taking part in the unofficial (and often downright irresponsible) parade of private cars on the evening before the race.
          For those who have travelled in slightly less exalted style, this pre-race parade, is the excuse for a picnic on the grassy roadside banks. Pâté and baguettes, saucisson, Brie and Roquefort are washed down by wine or perhaps dry Brittany cider – all picked up in some village on the way down.
          Eating and, more importantly, drinking play a great part in the Le Mans weekend. At the western end of the circuit, Le Mans Village has been erected for the event, complete with snack bars and restaurants catering for all tastes and budgets. There are also boutiques, manufacturers marquees, souvenir stalls and of course numerous bars. In deference to their Rosbifs patrons, refuelling procedures at these latter are invariably carried out with the aid of - very un-French - pint glasses.
There are those hard-core motor-racing enthusiasts who - from start to finish of the race, in an unbroken regime - shun The Village and the campsite barbecues in favour of ‘Porsche Curves’ and ‘The Esses.’ For them sustenance may come in the form of a snatched plate of frites et mayonnaise and a thermos of café au lait from one of the kiosks at ‘Tertre Rouge.’ But, for most, the 24 Hours of Le Mans is something far more than a motor race.
          For the full Le Mans experience, it is best to divide your time between the off-track entertainment and the racing itself. The fastest cars travel more than 3,000 miles before the end of the race and many of the spectators end up feeling that, between the campsite parties, The Village, the fairground and their favourite spectator points they’ve clocked up a fair few miles themselves. In fact, if the race was shorter, there wouldn’t be time to do everything that is available at the circuit.
The Le Mans fairground is one of the major attractions and, as is the case with the bars, its enjoyment is heightened by the camaraderie between thousands of people, from more than a dozen countries, united in a common interest. There are the traditional rides, including one of Europe’s tallest Ferris wheels (the best seats in the house), bungee-jumping, kart racing and a score of spectator events (some rather more adult-oriented than others).
          This year Bob Marley’s old band, The Wailers, played a free concert that, within an enthusiastic crowd of thousands, managed to lure many of even the most stubborn race watchers away from their track-side vigil for a couple of hours.
Throughout all this, the thunder in the background periodically breaks in upon your consciousness, reminding you that just a few metres away millions of pounds worth of the world’s finest engineering is being driven to – and often beyond - breaking point. The fastest cars are still topping 200mph every four minutes down the legendary Mulsanne Straight. The drivers are still clipping the gravel on every bend, trying to shave that vital tenth-of-a-second from their time, and they’re stillflipping through a strength-sapping 40 gear changes every lap.
          The misty light of the French dawn drains the power out of the fairground lights and bleary eyes strain for the first clear look at the surviving cars. A film of black grit, from burnt-out carbon brakes, covers the once gleaming spoilers. Pieces of flapping bodywork force you to accept the almost inconceivable fact that this has been going on all night. And there are still over ten hours left to go.
          At 4pm on Sunday the crowd gathers again at the grandstands to watch the survivors cross the finish line. The dedicated Japanese Nissan supporters, some in traditional kimonos, have held their ground all night directly across from their team’s pit crew. They’re waving their banners with renewed vigour now but you get the feeling that even they would admit to being slightly thankful that the test of endurance is almost over for another year.
As the winner crosses the line, the roar from the crowd almost drowns that other noise that, after 24 hours, has become so familiar. Another historic Le Mans has passed and, as champagne rains into the crowd from the podium, you too can’t help being touched by the thrill of victory.

The End