When my wife announced that she wanted us to go to Paris for vacation with the family, I was quite happy indeed. I love to travel so she didn’t have to wait long before I answered, “sure, when and for how long?”
She replied that a week would be all she could spare and so the planning began. We picked the dates, booked our passage on Condor (the only way to get to Europe directly from Providence, via Frankfurt), and rented an apartment in the 7th arrondissement. My hopes of seeing an old 2CV were about the only automotive thought in my head, but still very attractive. Then she decided that 10 days would be better and that we’d pop up to London for a weekend at the end of our trip too. So we rebooked and reworked things to add more adventure and fun.
Once the plans were settled, it hit me that there might be car things happening in Europe at the time we’d be there. Not that I’d attend any, but it would be fun to know what would be going on around me. Maybe a MotoGP race in Barcelona or an F1 contest in Russia or something? So I fired up the trusty Googles and looked around. And then I saw it. One of the races that I’ve followed for so many years and wanted to see more than any other, aside from the Monaco Grand Prix, would be happening on the exact weekend just after we’d arrive - the 24 Hours of Le Mans (or 24 Heures du Mans as it is known locally)!! The realization was like the heavens opening up and choirs of angels singing and all that. I looked at my wife and against all of my better instincts - luckily for me, I don’t have many of those - I made mention of it. And then said some quiet prayers that she would once again be the amazing and forgiving woman who I married and say, “ok.”
A miracle occurred. The angels sang even louder. She, of all people, knows me too well. She knows that even if I could not attend the race, I’d be hunting the internet and local TV to follow along as best I could. So she did one of the many magnanimous things she often does and said, “ok, you can go.”
It was time to plan again! Not knowing the real details about how to attend the race is a bit daunting at first. How do you get there from Paris? How long does it take? What tickets do you need? Where do you even show up? I hopped onto my favorite Facebook racer’s group to see if I could get some steerage from the masses. Not a whole lot came back. Only one person seemed to have been there before and provided a little bit of info. I was appreciative. But there was much more to figure out.
I learned that you can take the high speed train, the TGV, from Paris to Le Mans. It takes about an hour. Not bad. It’s not cheap, though. There were slower regional trains too, the RER. They were a little over 2 hours. The big question was how best to integrate this into our family vacation without being too disruptive. My wife is a saint but that fact makes me respect her all the more and I try to not push her limits too far, even though she’d never agree with that statement. I decided that merely being able to show up at the race, take a look around, a few photos, and drink in the atmosphere of the most prestigious endurance race in the world would probably be enough for this visit. A day trip down and back. We’d need to return in time for dinner in Paris. I booked my tickets. And then I quickly learned that I screwed up. I planned to arrive at 11am and leave by 3pm. The problem was that the race starts at 3pm. Now I had to figure out how to change the train tickets. The new, new plan was to arrive at 1pm and depart at 7pm. Six hours in Le Mans with maybe three of them watching the race - but at least seeing the iconic start where the racers have to sprint across the track on foot over to their cars, fire them up on the grid, and set off to race for the next entire cycle of a day!
Next up was buying tickets to the event itself. I learned that there are general admission tickets which get you into the grounds and that’s about it. And then there are special tickets that allow you into various grandstand locations offering seats and varying amount of shelter. One thing I knew was that it always rains at some point at Le Mans. It was just a question of when. If often happens at night or early in the morning the next day. But if nothing else, it is unpredictable. So we packed rain gear. The weather in Paris wasn’t shaping up to look too good as we got ready to depart either. Historic levels of flooding were just hitting Paris as we prepared to depart and the Seine was so high that the legendary tourist boats that ply the river were idled, not being able to navigate under the now small openings under the bridges. The thought of finally seeing Le Mans in person made all of that irrelevant. No matter the weather, it would be amazing.
I got our general admission tickets and went to book some sort of access to a covered location. I’d be bringing my 8-year-old son with me. At first I didn’t think he’d want to go. But, as always, I asked him and he was very excited. So tickets for two it was. My wife and daughter said they would go shopping that day and spend lots of money in Paris to punish us for our transgressions of leaving them all alone the day after our arrival. But there were no covered access point tickets to be had. None. Sold out. Suddenly I was mildly alarmed. Standing in the rain with an 8-year-old who likes racing but isn’t a rabid fan like me….that might not be a good idea. But then I found the ACO info. The ACO or Automobile Club de l’Ouest, is the organization that has been putting on this particular racing spectacle for many decades. They would have some sort of hospitality area, yes? They did and all you had to do was join the club. Done. I now had a place to hide if the weather went south on us.
We flew to Paris, checked into our apartment, and got settled in. The next morning at the hour of about 9:30 Paris time (equivalent to 3:30am EST…thankfully adrenaline and excitement are powerful!) I’d have to wake up my son and get ourselves to the Gare Montparnasse train station to start our pilgrimage. I had gotten some breakfast options the night before at a local grocery store. The grocery stores in Paris are about the size of the average 7/11 in the US. But they had some sort of cinnamon toast crunch looking cereal and what I hoped would be usable milk-looking stuff for the kids. And even the most lowly grocery store in Paris has freshly baked baguettes coming out about every half hour! So some good butter and baguette would do just fine. Add some coffee (it’s actually really hard to buy coffee in another language with a whole different brewing method than you're used to!) and I at least covered the basics for my poor wife who would soon be on her own in town.
My son was in a good mood as I packed up all my camera gear, our rain gear, and some snacks for our trip. We google-mapped our way to the station and set out. It was a good 35-minute walk across town from our location near the Eiffel Tower. The station was quite big but a helpful person pointed us in the direction of the ‘grand trains’ - as the TGV’s are known. An English gentleman was also looking to get to Le Mans so we pooled our mental energy to get to the right track and get on the train to Le Mans. I checked on board with a French woman who appeared at first to be a little prickly. Must be all the tourists. She confirmed that we were in the right train so I sat back to enjoy the ride. The train wasn’t as impressive as I imagined the TGV to be - a multi-level affair that was more like a Boston T commuter rail train than even the Acela-type that I’d expected as a minimum. But we set off and started enjoying the scenic french countryside. The view was unexpectedly beautiful out of our windows. There were vast fields of crops dotted with impressive farmhouses, often with ceramic tile roofs, stucco walls in yellow with cream trim and the classic light blue shutters. The architecture was rural and grand at the same time. Peter Mayle would have been proud of us.
A young woman who came to sit next to me glanced at my ticket and saw that we were actually on the incorrect type of train - we were supposed to be on the TGV but got onto the RER. She kindly explained in English that we were on the wrong train and that this one was far less expensive and that we should seek a partial refund when we got to the station. The prickly woman glanced over and apologized, explaining that she hadn’t looked beyond our destination. No surprise there. But we were enjoying the view and an extra hour and a half of seeing it wouldn’t hurt anything. We’d still make the start. I knew we’d likely miss the driver parade held in downtown Le Mans, unfortunately. I was hoping to make it there so we could meet up with a person I’d been introduced to by a teacher from my son’s school. The teacher’s friend is a press person for the newly formed Signatech Renault Alpine LMP2 team, a team that had been enjoying a very successful maiden outing this year. They had just won the 6 Hours of Spa the week before Le Mans practice and had a good chance of doing well here. She kindly offered to try to get pictures of my son with the drivers, one of whom hails from France and was all over the local television coverage (Nelson Panciatici). I was truly bummed to miss that chance but I know from experience that you can’t get hung up on changes when traveling to unfamiliar places or you start to lose focus and enjoyment. You have to stay focused on the positives.
We pulled into the station in Le Mans at about 2:20pm hoping we’d still be able to make it to the circuit prior to the start. The only problem was that you have to take a tram from the station to the track which lies a few kilometers out of the downtown area. And we were not the only one’s trying to get there. The crowd that had made the driver parade was already crowded into each car of the tram. And we’d just add to the impatient throngs of people trying to get to the circuit. It appeared we needed to buy tickets to the tram so we patiently waited in one line only to be informed that they had run out of tickets and we now had to get them from a machine near where we board the tram. So we rushed over there and missed a tram while waiting in line for the tickets. Once we finally squeezed our way into the next tram, we came to understand that it’s a bit of an honor system where you “validate” your ticket on the tram by putting it into a small machine. If you want. There are no conductor people. When that many bodies were packed into the train, it wasn’t even an option to validate a ticket with the machine. But I’m glad we did the right thing and bought the tickets. Events like this stay in business as long as the local services make money.
As we got close to the track, a large group of racey-looking folks got off the tram at the stop before the one labeled as the circuit. I was concerned that they knew something I didn’t. But I’m glad I trusted my gut and stayed on the tram to the end. As the tram brought us to it’s final stop, I saw that those folks who got off early would be waiting in a very long line to gain entry. The last stop dropped us inside the circuit and we had to climb up a ways to get to the track entrance but the line was quite manageable. We also got to see where many people camp out inside the circuit. It’s quite a sight to see hundreds of cars and tents where people stay camped out in the infield. There were some rather fancy rides with tents pitched right next door. The big concern I had at that time was that the clouds looked very threatening. It looked like it was going to pour on us. I encouraged my son to make haste so we could see if we could find the ACO area. The heavens smiled on us again. Just as the heavens opened and absolutely poured onto the crowds and track, we got ridiculously lucky and found the ACO hospitality tent. We had just ducked into the entry line under cover as the heavens opened. I had my little membership card at the ready and we dove in to avoid the rain. Many others tried, only to be turned away sans card. We found a little village of three temporary “buildings” - one was a lounge with some TVs for viewing the race. It was packed. Out back from there was an outdoor seating area and a few umbrellas for some tables - not going to offer much for us in the deluge, sadly. Building two looked also amazingly crowded and it looked to be the bar building. If I was on my own, that would have been my destination. But with my young son, we needed a bit more space and calm. Building three was that vision. A fancy-looking restaurant area that seemed to be quite sparse at that moment. A quick glance at the signage confirmed that it offered a three-course lunch for a considerable amount of euros. Perfect. Indoor seating, TV’s and food. I wanted to see the start, of course, but getting soaked to do it really wasn’t an option so this would have to do. We heard the engines fire up and I became a bit confused. They didn’t sound like they were racing in anger as I would have expected, instead just lapping the course. I soon learned that the signature "Le Mans start" was modified due to the onslaught of rain - the racers would follow behind the safety car for the entire first hour of the race! There were boos each time the safety car failed to duck into the pits. But we were dry, looking at fine french cuisine and had plenty of space. And hadn’t missed anything major! In my world of travel, that’s about as lucky as one gets.
We enjoyed fine entree courses and a lovely main of salmon and chicken, followed by a nice dessert. My son had his European favorite drink - Fanta, and I enjoyed a couple of glasses of Saint-Émilion as we watched the cars circle on TV. We could hear their still-loud motors as they passed us in real life each time up under the Dunlop bridge just outside our temporary refuge of civility. It was surreal and so great.
As we finished up our meal, the safety car finally ducked back into the pit lane and the race was on. The ACO location was right up by the Dunlop bridge so we ambled up to have a great view of the cars coming under the bridge from the private ACO viewing area. This is what it is all about. My son yelled “Porsche” each time the 919 or some of the GT 911’s went by. He would continue to spot each and every Porsche, Ferrari, and Lamborghini throughout our trip through Paris and London.
I knew I wanted to get some souvenirs of our journey so we made our way toward the area where all the goods seemed to be on sale. Every manufacturer was well represented and we visited each one picking up some Le Mans, Alpine, Ford GT, Porsche, and Audi gear. From that area we could pop our to see the track right next to the pit out seeing the cars exit slow then very quick up the hill toward the Esses.
We made our way back toward the ACO area and I decided we should cross over the Dunlop bridge once at least just to say we had. It was covered in graffiti inside and worth a quick stroll. We made our way down the track a little ways past the Dunlop grandstands and to a spot with a good view of the start/finish line and the main grandstands.
But then it was time to go. Our time at Le Mans was up quickly and the race was just underway. But we had an amazing time and I can now check one more box off the list of things I have to do before I die. And to get to do it with my son before he even realizes how big a deal it is - very special indeed.
We caught the right train - a TGV even - back to Paris and made it in time for dinner. What an amazing day!
It turns out Porsche went on to win their 18th overall victory(!). But Toyota suffered a heart-breaking mechanical fault while leading the race with only 3 minutes to go. Huge respect for Toyota. They had it in the bag and ran a flawless 23 hours and 57 minutes. Endurance racing can be a cruel, cruel sport. And the Alpine team won the LMP2 class and got to listen to the French national anthem! And Ford wont the GT Pro class with the new Ford GT 50 years after their last tussle with Ferrari. Ferrari came in second and was not very happy about it. What a year to be there!!
Huge thanks to my wife for once again assuaging my automotive passions. She is definitely the best thing to ever happen to me.
