Part 1: Convoy!  by David Champ

Having been one of six to attend the inaugural ‘Classic’ in 2002 I approached this year’s event with lower expectations.  Firstly could it be simply as good as the original event, would it be too popular and crowded and could 25 GT40 replicas be organised in any fashion compared to a manageable six?  Time would tell.

As with any holiday, getting there and back is part of the pleasure, though a dubious one at times, and this trip I was going in convoy rather than by myself.  The idea of breaking down half way through France was not a happy prospect so it was also reassuring to be travelling with a team.

In preparation for the trip I optimised my tool kit with what I hoped were all the essentials and no more.  The method I used was to include all tools (with the exception of the trolley jack!) which I used in the months up to the event – I tried to do all jobs with the kit and added extra tools as required.  I managed to get an amazing quantity and variety of sockets, spanners and screwdrivers in a relatively small plastic tool box under the passenger seat. I also had the items which, touch wood, never get used (e.g. tyre weld, brake fluid) in the front section behind the radiator.

Rather than make a stupidly early dash for the 7:30 ferry we had decided to ‘bivouac’ overnight at the Poole Travel Inn; as it happened a wise choice.  I left home intending to have a quick ‘splash and dash’ at Tescos, but for the short burst up the dual carriageway to suddenly reveal a loud rattling tappet – after weeks of problem free running it had to happen now!! GRRRRR!  Fortunately I had all day to get to the coast.  I limped home to check out the cause – it was only tappet clearance on one valve and hopefully the only one. Maybe switching to GTX Magnetec a week before the trip was not such a good idea?

I set off round a hot and crowded M25 and must have picked up some crud from the hot new tarmac on the lane widening section, as I started getting knocking from the nearside front at wheel turning speed.  I pulled off behind the cones, to the clear surprise of some road workers, as I was concerned the knock-on wheel might be loose - but I couldn’t find a problem just so carried on and the problem evaporated!  Not the best of starts to the weekend – I think I was beginning to get paranoid about possible car problems.

The rest of the drive to Poole was thankfully straightforward, I met up with Roy Snook and passenger Seb, and we cruised down the M3, we found the hotel first time. Brilliant! I was finally starting to relax.  We had a ‘very sociable’ evening with Ian O’Reilly’s group some of whom were leaving on the night ferry and must have made it with seconds to spare –  "the ferry's leaving in 10 minutes - time for one more round then".

Next morning one or two of us were feeling a little fragile and we found it had rained in the night so the first job was to leather the car down - at least we only had about ½ mile to the ferry and the meet up with Max.  I found air-con is not only good for hot days, its also very useful for demisting. We soon learned poor Max had already had a breakdown queuing to get on the ferry, his car had stalled and refused to fire up again.  Not a problem though, only a few yards to roll the car on.

After a fast and uneventful crossing, apart from Roy's face going through all colours of the rainbow, we disembarked and started the run down to Le Mans looking immediately for the GT40s best friend, namely a well fuelled petrol station. We had chosen to do the Cherbourg route so set off across the peninsular towards Caen. 

Cherbourg was the vital first port liberated by the Americans in 1944 and we passed by the famous town of St. Mere-Eglise where a paratrooper from the 101st apparently hung all day by his parachute from the church spire on D-Day with a terrific view of the proceedings - though I do not recall his ultimate fate. 

We made a formation with Ian & Jackie leading with their GPS system, then Roy & Seb, Max & Paul third and yours truly as tail-end Charlie. We thought it best not to let Max run last as he might get picked off by a gremlin without us noticing!  Although Max stuttered away from the odd junction all seemed to be running relatively smoothly.

After two hours or so I needed a comfort break so I took to the head of the queue and brought us into one of the many rest stops you find on French motorways.  Why we can't have more us these simple lay-bys in the UK instead of overpriced fast food monstrosities?

We stopped shortly after for a very French lunch at a Le Routier beside the N158. A simple slow meal but very enjoyable and for me the real start of the holiday, we were getting in a relaxed mood so much so that we had to force ourselves back on the road.

On the main route Ian suddenly turned off right at Mortree for a signposted diversion.  The route was a lovely snaking tour through hills and forest, a chance to enjoy GT40 handling on newly-laid smooth French tarmac.  It rejoined the N158 just north of Alençon and this is where Max, at the end of the train, disappeared.  We weren't too surprised as at the Buffalo Grill you do have to do a couple of 270 degree turns to get on the motorway.  We tried in vain to contact Max. Eventually we succeeded, he had in fact stopped for much needed fuel, and we agreed to go separately for the last leg to Le Mans.

Anyway as we turned around to get back on the motorway, or so I naively thought, Ian slavishly following his 'trusty' GPS off down a side street. Then bizarrely down seemingly the narrowest windy suburban streets and road works it could find and out into the countryside adjacent to Alençon! We all followed like lambs hopelessly 'Lost in France' - the old Bonnie Tyler hit ringing in my ears. Apparently the air inside Ian's 40 was very blue. Here you can see us each with a different opinion as to the right route. Did Dan Gurney ever use a GPS - nah!

Eventually sense prevailed and Seb borrowed my map book to lead the convoy out of the maze back down strangely familiar streets back into town. We were quite a spectacle for the pedestrians and turned a lot of heads, however the unexpected detour cost us about an extra hour on the journey.  The crawling through slow traffic certainly proved the worth of the new air-con I had installed this year as I was very glad of the cool blast of air.

We finally parted company going to different areas of Le Mans, I was going to the gite to the East and Roy and Ian to their Maison Blanche campsite. Although I had tracked the route with my GPS all the way I now used it in anger up to about a mile from the destination when the detail ran out.  At this point I got immediately lost, failing to recall the right turn we used in 2002, I minor senior moment (I hope).

The gite is in the middle of nowhere but with ample green parking space, though it is hard not to wake the neighbouring house when leaving early!  On arrival I was immediately greeted with a cold beer and a marvellous barbeque in the late afternoon sun - and with The Classic Le Mans to look forward - surely this is La Dulce Vita.

Well more of that in Part 2, later.