The motorsport season doesn’t necessarily end when the mercury drops. Not in some places at least.
Get that Foreigner song out of your head immediately; this setting has far less cheese and way more cool, in terms of both occurrence on track as well as rather low temperatures usually due to being held 2,000 metres up an Alp. This is the e-Andros Trophy, a fully sideways, ice-crystalled love affair that’s now into its thirtieth year. And now it’s gone all modern, bidden au revoir to the combustion engine along with a big Bonjour! to electric power and some French stars of motorsport.
A potted history for you. Frédéric Gervoson and Max Mamers were friends sharing tastes and values; those of competition, friendliness, loyalty and racing cars. Classing themselves as (Mamers), “a sports entrepreneur” and (Gervoson) as an “entrepreneurial sportsman”, they collected up some interested parties to Continue reading “As Cold As Ice”
Motor racing is coming to Newcastle, courtesy of a former driver and the entrepreneurial spirit of a local lad made good.
At exactly 7kms, the track resembles Spa-Francorchamps and contains elevations and sinuous curves inspired by famous tracks the world over. Totally unlike Spa, Geordie Raceway is devoid of trees. Or indeed much else for this track is to be built on the former Prudhoe muck stacks of yore. Questions there are many.
Scrubs up well for a forty year old. She’s kept her figure, had her wild years, now slowly gravitating toward middle age with maturity and style.
As a child I was mesmerised by the BASF colour scheme on the BMW M1. The car screams out speed, aggression, power; language that only red can truly deliver. The white circles emanate a sense of power, creating reflections akin to water ripples or the blast wave of an explosion, placed on the bodywork at jaunty angles.
Maybe on my tenth birthday the model arrived, not to be raced or hurled into the garden with abandon. No, this Red Devil was for cherishing, made centre stage, set apart from all those lesser model cars; pretty well untouched. My memory does not serve me well, did I Continue reading “Thirty Minutes”
Andrew Miles dons his Rally jacket in praise of the WRC.
For the past fifteen years, should you be named Sébastien and you hailed from France, you were World Rally Champion. No-one got else got a look in. Some came agonisingly close, but nine championships went to Sébastien Loeb whilst the other six fell Sébastien Ogier’s way.
That is until late in October in Catalunya, when rally fans the world over witnessed a new dawn. Ott Tänak from Estonia was the new boss, finally. And then promptly four days later informed the world he was to Continue reading “Finally, Ott”
They’re not like us – well, not much like us anyway
Sean’s fine piece on Denis Jenkinson earlier this week prompted this clip of rally legend, Ari Vatanen giving his co-driver an education in belief during stage 4 of the 1983 Manx Rally. Vatanen gets his Opel Manta 400’s tail wagging alarmingly on the narrow Isle of Man lanes prompting the now immortal exclamation from normally unflappable co-driver, Terry Harryman. (About 2 mins in, if you don’t want to watch the whole thing). Continue reading “Passengers: Testament of Faith”