In the summer of 1986, my family and I vacationed in France for the summer. My father would save up all his leave days and take us to some exotic location for vacation. As a brand new teenager, I didn’t fully appreciate what I was seeing, but on this trip, in this one location, I sure as hell did.
We had seen Paris a few times and my dad wanted to venture out and see other parts of the country. He was also a wine fanatic. We found ourselves in eastern France, in the Sarthe region, just passing through. It was getting a little late in the day and my dad decided to stay overnight in a quaint hotel on Mulsanne Street (it’s now called D338 - Route de Tours). My brother and I tried watching TV in our room but it was all in French and it didn’t really interest us. As a result, we fell asleep pretty early. The problem with falling asleep early is that I usually woke up really early.
I futzed around the room for a few minutes the next morning before looking out the window to see what was going on outside. There was a work crew just out on Mulsanne street blocking the whole thing off. There were no other vehicles or equipment present so, in my brain, I ruled out construction. I was curious so, I showered, dressed, ate a croissant in the lobby, then walked toward the crew on the street.
I asked what was going on and they indicated cars were coming. I did not speak any French but I got the gist. I felt like this might be a car race. I didn’t really care about cars as much at that point in my life. I was an airplane fanatic. Anyway, the morning wore on and as I was standing there, getting bored, I saw a flickering light a mile or so up Mulsanne street. I figured maybe this was it. A car race. There was nothing else to do, so I stayed there.
My dad yelled to me from his room balcony and I pointed up the street. The flickering lights grew steadier, larger, and brighter. The car was rapidly approaching but I had no idea what kind of car I was about to see. It was the most amazing vehicle I had ever seen in person. It was a Le Mans racer. White with blue accents and red striping down the flanks. A Nissan that looked like an airplane on wheels. It decelerated hard as it barreled toward me and the barricades. At the last minute, it cut hard to my left. The brakes were glowing red hot through the wheel spokes as it flew by at almost 100 MPH though the turn. I could not believe any car could perform such a maneuver. The driver accelerated just as hard out of the turn and roared away from us at incredible speed. The noise was loud, visceral, melodious, and bone chilling. My hair was blown back and my mouth agape.
“Holy shit,” I remember saying to myself.
I looked back at my dad and he gave me the thumbs up.
Swiveling my head back around, I saw more lights coming. More cars were racing toward me. Porsches, Saubers, and Toyotas. They all roared past my spectacular vantage point. I must’ve stood there for hours as the cars kept racing by. Little did I know that this was only a practice session and the favored car was about to make an appearance. It was the Jaguar racing car. These were the monsters that dominated racing for a few years. The Jaguar team used a twelve cylinder engine that sounded unbelievable. Jaguar was sponsored by Silk Cut cigarettes and their livery was white and purple with gold striping. They were unique looking cars because the rear wheels were covered by a fairing. I found out later that these beasts routinely reached a top speed of 230 MPH down the two mile long Mulsanne. The Jaguar approached, hauled on the brakes, ripped through the corner, and accelerated away. The sound of the engine was loud and throaty but smooth and refined at the same time. It did not sound like any of the other cars out there that day.
On the next lap, my assumption was that the driver decided to stretch the monster Jaguar’s legs. Even from almost a mile away, I could hear the loud purr of the powerful V-12 engine in the car. Over the course of the lap, a lone camera man took up a position along the side of the track (very dangerous but allowed back then). He was snapping pictures of the cars as they began the hard braking after their top speed run. The Jaguar approached and as I was mesmerized by the lights and sound, I saw a small piece of something black fly off the right side of the car. Instantly, the car veered to the left, got sideways, and began flipping over. Body panels came off first and as it rolled over and over again, bigger components began separating away. Wheels, engine, gearbox, fuel cell, and after almost a half a mile or so, the only thing remaining was the driver’s cage. I could feel every impact reverberating through the air and the ground accompanied by the most chilling sounds of machinery crumpling. The remnant of the car came to a stop almost exactly opposite the cameraman.
I knew in my heart that the driver was dead. No one could survive such a wreck. Just as I surrendered to the thought of witnessing a death in front of me, I saw the driver move. He unbuckled his restraints, tumbled out of the roll cage, and walked unevenly across the street. He was disoriented, for sure, but he saw the cameraman, who was in shock, and plopped down next to him. After a second, he removed his helmet, reached into the cameraman’s cooler, and popped the top off a green can (I think it was a Heineken). It seemed like he drank the whole thing down in one stretch.
I fell in love with auto racing at that moment. I could not believe what I had just seen. This man crashed at over 200 MPH, lived, and drank a beer for his troubles. All the while, the cameraman seemed to capture every second of it.
Many rules changed after that crash but something else changed. It was how and what was filmed and releasable during practices, qualifying, and the race. Before that, no one really cared about practice sessions. The spectacular crash and the resulting beer drinking changed the coverage forever. And I was there to see it.
The very next year, the results of a Porsche accident during practice was captured and released.
Pretty amazing. I’ve been a fan of cars and auto racing ever since. One event lead to a fan for life.