So....back from another Le-Mans. I guess I'd like to do a bit of a write up, and some mentions!
We set off for Portsmouth at about 7:30 initially, stopping to pick up Hayley and Sander in Basingstoke, and Jimma in Portsmouth.
Everyone in good spirits on the boat (indeed perhaps a little too good) - cue Hayley, Sander and Jimma getting hammered on ridiculously strong cider. I wasn't far behind - always mindful of having to drive in the morning, I opted for some sleep though. When I woke up, I still felt a bit woozy, so proceeded to munch down LD lines finest breakfast (which was surprisingly good actually) and by the time the boat pulled into port, I was feeling capable of driving again - reflected by my rather handy alcohol breath tester, just in case.
So off we went down to the car deck. Everyone aboard, key in the ignition......click.....
Oh Sh1t. Flat battery.
So we open the bonnet, furiously sought some jump leads, and prepared to get the car started. Now I've only had my car a matter of months, and haven't yet had to jump start it. However, there seemed to be something missing.
Ah HA! The battery. It's not under the bonnet. Where is it then?......tell me it's not in the boot. Please? Grab manual. Yep, it's in the boot. Under ALL of our stuff. Brilliant.
Having emptied said boot all over the floor, we finally managed to get the car going, with a jump start from a big old mercedes SL500 - the only thing near with enough crank for a 2.7 diesel.
From then on, the journey was uneventful - 1hr 50 mins from Le Havre to Le-Mans, is probably some kind of record, although we only once went over the speed limit, and even then only for a couple of moments. Arriving on site, was a warm welcome as always. Big Irta was looking resplendant in her new livery, and the group was already starting to see some numbers.
Having pitched our tents, got the truck screen working, and built Andy and Pauls hotel sized tent, we settled in for the evening. I'm pretty sure, I'd planned to have a quiet night, but quite a few beers later, it was about 2am before we turned into bed.
At day break, a cracking breakfast prepared by sausage, was followed by more Beer, some general larking about, and a few more beers, before it was time to go and see Kris to grab our tickets - cue the Brethren invasion of the Kronenburg Bar. I thought we'd only stayed for 2 however I seem to remember deciding to double up on the whip, and buying Desperados in the middle of each drink - silly boy!!
With tickets in hand, we settled in for what turned into the heaviest night of the weekend for me - I dont remember much about it to be honest.
Friday came, and with all of the talk centred around the party that night, the day just seemed to whizz along. One minute we were in Le-Mans town centre, then next it was party time. Then the party happened.
What can you say about the party? Debaucherous, ridiculous? drunken, high spirited, all of the above really.
Special mentions have to go to Chris D Hall, for his costume. Outstanding. Closely followed by Stinky Bill, Andy Zarse, Paul Zarse, And even my old man for making such an effort. The moment of the weekend coming for me, the moment that David (Stalwart of the Brethren, and all round calm, and nice bloke) excelled himself by climbing on the bench, singing Dambusters at the top of his voice before stacking it in the biggest way possible. Absolutlely outstanding effort. David was rewarded with the Brethrens Yellow Jersey the following morning, which raised a wry smile
It's only when writing this kind of thing up, that you realise how much of this weekend is to do with the race, and how much of it is to do with the company you keep . Only now, was it time for the race to begin. And so the usual ritual of everyone doing their own thing, followed shortly after by meeting in the Guinness Bar for some refreshments. As always, this got rowdy and messy - but we wouldn't want it any other way.
From then on, I followed some of the race, I had a few drinks, and started to take in the weekend. My old man started to run out of steam, and in fact, made the stupid mistake of falling asleep on Camp Brethren. Cue Clive with his massively loud engined Triumph Rocket, moving in behind him, after a game of human buckaroo. Cue the rudest awakening imaginable. Video to follow
Razorlight followed, and to be honest, they're not really worth a mention. They were rubbish. I have more rapport with my front door than that lot managed with the audience.
Mixed in with everything was the news of McNish's crash, Rocky's massive shunt, safety cars and all sorts of other rumours.
Bizarrely I had a compulsion to watch some racing. So I did - A couple of pleasant hours sat with Doris and the old man, watching the fittest runners still circularing, and took in the magnirude of the closeness of the race - a great spectacle which I probably would have missed in previous years.
Drive back was uneventful - I have a chest infection, an ear blockage, and a car which looks like it has been crapped all over, but am I unhappy? Am I heck.
Mentions should go to the following for making this such a great werekend:
Team Zarse - Where would I be without these boys?
The Brethren - Having eaten 1 pork chop all weekend last year, you cant imagine how pleased we were of your hospitality this year.
KPY - For obvious reasons
David of the Brethren - For helping with the satelitte despite the fact that it didn't work, I would have gone insane doing it all on my own.
Hayley, Sander and Jimma, for keeping me sane in the car.
Barry and my old man for providing me with some of the easiest blackmail videos I've ever had.
and everyone else who was involved - thank you for another cracking LM.
Signing off for another year.
Brad Zarse
