Everybody loaded up their cars, engines on and the promise of a quiet, orderly exit was well and truly breached. Traffic was fairly heavy around Weybridge at the time, so local knowledge was challenged for the best route to the M25. All fancy routes were in vain with most cars dropping onto the motorway network within a few minutes of each othe and within a couple of mile muscles were being flexed. I must say though the quality of driving was good and the stint down to Folkstone was a trip in itself. The weather for the three days had been forecast to be poor, rain throughout, but somebody was looking after us as it was a lovely morning and those that could had the roofs off.

All safely at Folkstone and we could not believe it everybody had actually brought a passport this year and even better they were all in date. Perfect start then, well almost. We were all booked on the 10:50 train but some cars were (no fault of their own) upon check in booked onto the earlier 10:20 train. The decision was made to all regroup at the first service station which was about 40 miles in on French shores. The staggered arrival at the service station actually work really well as we attracted less attention and by the time the last cars arrived most cars were refuelled and ready for the off. Well almost all the cars - Alan the co-driver with Martyn in the RX8 spotted an egg shape bulge in the tyre, so they were off at in steady pace for some new rubber. Due to this we changed the parameters to the first five cars per team count (to the next destination) not the first six, purely in the interests of keeping everything fair.

Blast off from the service station and first to shoot their bolt (so to speak) was James and Bruce in the 335i cab. A bit on these two - James is one of the dads from school with his daughter Amy being best buddies with my son Alexander; James’s co driver Bruce had flown over especially from America to take part, so ten team points (not really) to him for making such an effort. I was worried about these two as I was not sure that they knew exactly what they had bought into, may be they thought is was going to be a very sedate cruise!

Any way we all hit the road and the tarmac was passing underneath the cars like a manic conveyer belt. Mile by mile we were getting ever closer to the Nurburgring. Once out of Belgium and into Germany the traffic eased and the roads became much more interesting.
Andy and Christian in the ML63 were newbies and were up for a drag race with anybody who was up to the challenge, for a car or that size which has to punch such a huge whole though the air it is mightily impressive. Other newbies were Paul and Chris in the SL65 AMG, six litre V12 twin turbo, this thing has that much torque when asked of it tries to spin the world in the other direction. Friends of the SL65 were Nigel and Andy in the M5, another big motor with big fire power. The last 40 miles as you approach the Nurburgring are sensational, lots of phone calls and communication via walkie talkies, with help passed on with regards to traffic and hold ups, and the odd white lie with regards to where speed traps are. Nick and Micky newbies in a Bentley Flying spur  were closing in on the ring (!) with James and Bruce tucked in closely behind, then a camera flash, so the Bentley slowed down, James seizes the moment and passes the Bentley, the police appear and stop them, James is waved on but the Bentley was held; it just so happens that the car now being held up by the Bentley is a silver BMW with two old ladies in it, The police assumes that the Bentley and the Beemer with the old dears in are the offenders, James gets away and the old dears get done, what a giggle.  

The last few miles we were rapidly reeling in the Dorrint Hotel at the Ring. From Team 1’s perspective we were looking pretty good, four car tight together, Me and Jimbo in the M3, Darren and Ken (Ricky Gervais) in an M3, Paul and Sarah in the RS4 (did well to get someone to look after all 5, yes five kids back at home) and Tim and Ian in the gorgeous black SLR roadster.
We screamed up to the hotel, co drivers jumped out of the cars and ran to the rabbit run score board equipped with a tube awaiting each car to drop a coloured golf ball each with a number on which corresponded to its car. I was eager to see how we had faired, fourth not bad, but who was first, I could not believe it, it was James and Bruce in the 335i cab, and was so worried about him, he was soon nick named “the dark horse”. The second car to arrive was Darryl & Lee in theMerc E63 AMG and the third car to arrive was Stu and Paul in the M3 cab who were also newbies.    
    
With everybody checked in except the RX8 who arrived around 8pm after having its new boots fitted and my useless team members in the Morgan Aero 8 Andy and Chris (you cost team 1 victory that day, not that I’m bitter or anything) who were out driving around in the wilderness somewhere like gay lovers, sorry I digress, we all made our way down to the Norshlife. Literally as we got there our luck with the weather finally ran out and it started to rain. Not a bad thing in some ways as it did slow things down a tad. We had two incidents and thought not to embarrass anybody further by mentioning names, but the first one I’ll give you a couple of clues, he drives like a nutter, his old car was red and 4 wheel drive, his new car is black, two wheel drive and more powerful and the driver is well how can I put it, not exactly tall. If you don’t know who I am talking about then you obviously haven’t been on Rabbit Run in the last 3 years. The second incident, well, loads of power in a car that weighs as much as a fag packet (an empty one at that) and on dry slick tyres driven by a bald lunatic, yes you got it and I don’t mind naming him - it was Jon in the Caterham with a brown panted Matt as co driver;360 degree spin very funny, (not for Matt) watch out for it in the film.

So we decided after about two hours not to push our luck and retreat to the hotel, a few beers in the bar then quick shower and change and all met for dinner in the restaurant. Stories told, some accurate and some exaggerated.

At around midnight the sensible ones had retired to bed, some didn’t, I was one of those that didn’t and how I paid for it in the morning.

(previous)  1  2  3  (next)