1971

I was having a bit of a spring clean recently, and in the course of re-organising my book-shelves, I came across a copy of Anthony Pritchard’s 'The Motor Racing Year No. 3'. Sadly the cover has come under attack from some paper-eating animal, but the pages are still intact, and I was drawn to Part 2 - The Sports Car Year. It is fascinating looking back, and I wondered what might be learned from examining the state of sports car racing forty years or so ago and comparing it to the state we are in today. That there was a (World) Sports Car Manufacturers’ Championship was not remarked upon, nor was the fact that it took place over eleven rounds in which Le Mans was round nine, and the final race of the season was before the end of July. Different days indeed.

However, Spa, Le Mans and Sebring were all on the championship trail, all venues steeped in sports car racing history. There is something very reassuring about consistency of this nature - it makes you feel that the subject of your interest is more worthy, more honourable, in a way. It reminded me of Andrew Marr's recent documentary about "The Diamond Queen", in which we are told of the Queen's constant presence over the last sixty years: despite all the changes in the social and political background, the monarchy has always been there and somehow one thinks it will always be there.

Not like sports car racing. Or is it? I found particularly fascinating the doom-laden tone of much of the text of the time. Take this, the introduction to chapter 6: “The 1971 season was not exceptional by any standard, as one vital ingredient for exciting motor racing was lacking, the absence at most races of any serious opposition to the overwhelming Porsche onslaught.” Audi’s approach to 2012 may not be such an onslaught, but it struck me as ironic that, forty years later, there are strong parallels.

That's the beauty of looking back - as any student of history will confirm; you find uncanny similarities with the past, as well as unexpected and unpredictable contrasts.

Then there is the review of the Le Mans 24 hours race itself: “Le Mans has degenerated into a long, tedious marathon of attrition, with most of the faster cars retiring and with very little interest or drama except in the first few hours.” Pritchard continues: “The 1971 race attracted the worst entry for many years,” but goes on to assert that the ACO had seventy-four entries from which to pick the fifty-five starters. Seems strong enough a level of support to me, but there seemed little space for optimism in 1971. Is that true in 2012?

In 1971, Motor Sport's DSJ wasn't even at Le Mans, covering instead a non-championship Formula One race at Hockenheim. The 24 hour race was reported for Motor Sport by Andrew Marriott, who wrote:
"Undoubtedly, Le Mans has lost much of its old magic and in this, the last year of the present 5-litre cars, there were few high spots as the most famous of all sports car races played itself out.

Don't you just love the closely packed text?

"The 1971 Le Mans 24-Hours will go down as one of the less memorable races for a variety of reasons. Perhaps the main one was that, with a couple of minor exceptions, there were no really new models in the race.

"Yes, the Le Mans magic has faded, and several of the old faces were missing including MOTOR SPORT's Continental Correspondent who was giving the race a miss for the first time in almost twenty years."

The zenith of Group C is far in the future, the complete disappearance of a world championship in the 1990's unimaginable, and yet, here we are, approaching the eightieth running of the great race with its popularity intact and probably, if anything, on the increase.

In his Continental Notes in MOTOR SPORT's July, 1971 edition, however, Denis Jenkinson did suggest, that with the introduction of the 3-litre formula for sports cars, scheduled for 1972, an era could be envisaged in which Grand Prix and Sports car racing would be able to converge: "Could we possibly be entering on a new phase of equality between Grand Prix and Sports Cars where the best of both worlds are combined into a one-type racing scene, with the scrapping of the Drivers' World Championship and the Manufacturers' Campionship, and the introduction of an overall Racing Championship for the best team (and/or driver) in motor racing."

Hardly. And now Formula 1, as Grand Prix racing seems to have become known, is further from any other form of the sport than even Jenks can have expected. But Sports Car racing still fills an important niche, with the ACO particularly willing to encourage and embrace new technologies with relevance to road car development.

Just as today, the 1970's were full of economic uncertainty, a severe fuel crisis, and the ACO had to react to world events with innovative regulations, often in the face of conflicting direction from the CSI (the then sporting arm of the FIA).

Apart from the sheer joy of wallowing in history, I think the point I am trying to draw out here is that ever since the announcement of the World Endurance Championship for 2012, media outlets have been portraying the negative aspects. Such is the nature of the media. I would not pretend that everything is necessarily as rosy as it could be. But by examining the past and understanding it, you become better placed to make the right decisions in the present to the benefit of the future.

In general, interest in sports car racing is high. The organisation is trying to make things better, not worse and I believe that, from a technical point of view, sports car racing is in good hands. What I sometimes doubt is when political or sporting decisions are made, they are frequently off beam - full of shortsightedness or riven with unintended consequence.

What we need now is wisdom and a strong nerve - not just in sports car racing, but in the world in general. 1971 gave us the Porsche Curves, and a 24-hour distance record that survived until 2010. I hope that 2012 can provide similarly iconic legacies.

Reflecting on Dubai and Daytona

January. Usually a pretty quiet month, motor-racing-wise. If I don’t go to the NEC for the Autosport show, then there’s usually not much reason to worry about motor-racing things. This normally means that I can devote myself to family matters, and the panic that goes with having a son whose birthday is three weeks after Christmas. This year has been different, though. First of all, I was asked if I would attend the Dubai 24 hour race, and this was swiftly followed by an invitation to the Daytona 24 hours, covering both as part of the Radio Le Mans team, which would be broadcasting for the Motors TV coverage of these events in Europe, as well as other outlets, too numerous for me to keep track of.

Luckily, my dear wife expressed little objection to my flying off to both these events – although to be fair I think she would have rather have me stay at home, but understands my passion for the sport, and knows how grumpy I would be if I would have stayed at home. And I never like to turn down an invitation.

Dubai and Daytona lie roughly on the same line of latitude - Dubai is about four degrees further south than Daytona, which is roughly the same amount that Le Mans is south of Silverstone. The Dunlop Dubai 24 hours is organised by the Dutch Creventic organisation, and encourages the participation of amateur, privateer, drivers and teams. These days, the Rolex Daytona 24 hours is a Grand-Am race, and is in many ways a pale shadow of the race that I first visited in 1990, which was then a full-blooded prototype rehearsal for Le Mans.

Despite now taking place for the seventh time, Dubai suffers from not having the same heritage as other 24 hour races that I attend. Even the Silverstone 24 hours has echoes of Willhire races of the 1980’s. And I would also suggest that, despite having a climate that makes being out-of-doors a far more pleasant experience in January than it would be in England, Dubai’s location is not really appealing.

I had never visited any part of the Middle East before, so everything was new to me. On arrival, I had an open mind, and the welcome was warm in all senses. But the Gulf of Arabia is bordered by not much more than desert. As one of the ‘Emirates’ in the United Arab Emirates (UAE), Dubai shares the same motor racing history as Bahrain or Abu Dhabi. In other words, very little heritage and lots of inherited wealth. There was a certain overt opulence about the place that was somehow tasteless, and materialistic poverty was never far out of sight. It was probably little different from the discomfort I would feel if I would attend a parent’s evening for students at Eton college, but that may be as much a reflection of a xenophobia on my part as anything else.

I think the location of the circuit, a little way away from the city centre might have also a part to play in my lack of enthusiasm for the place. The drive from hotel to track was through half-completed building projects, some seemingly abandoned, along roads still under construction. And at the circuit, many buildings are also as yet incomplete, giving the place a somewhat unready feel. Despite the warmth of the temperature, looking out across the desolate landscape didn’t do anything for the soul.

Daytona, on the other hand, is a different kettle of fish. I do like Florida, having been many times, for business, pleasure, and to visit the Daytona International Speedway – where I have now seen five twenty-four hour races, and once (in 1993) the Daytona 500 Winston Cup race. Although I prefer the Gulf (west) coast of Florida to the Atlantic side, I know of few places more pleasant in the early months of the year to go, in order to escape from grey, dreary and damp England.

Daytona has history, in racing terms. From tales of land speed record attempts on the beach to legends like ‘King’ Richard Petty, Cale Yarborough and ‘Fireball’ Roberts, images of cars racing past a blurred ‘Daytona USA’ wall appeared in Boys’ Own annuals of my youth. Arriving at Daytona for the first time and seeing the towering main grandstand rates as high in my memory as my first visit to Monza, Monte Carlo or Le Mans.

Those with good memories will recall that I wrote some “Rumblings” following last year’s Daytona 24 hours. (It’s here if you want to remind yourself). My issue then, as now, is more with the race than with the place. As with the geography, so with the races at Dubai and Daytona: there are some similarities and there are some significant differences.

The 24 hour races at both Dubai and Daytona have some rather artificial rules, which may detract from the purity, but each in their own way add to the strategy and interest of the race and the entertainment it provides. In Dubai, there was the concept of ‘minimum reference lap time’, which was the lap time, faster than which you were not supposed to go. Ten ‘exception laps’ were allowed, but after that, drive-through penalties were handed out. As a consequence, once you had fallen behind, it was mighty difficult to catch up again, especially as the cars with the fastest ‘reference lap time’ fell out of the race early on.

On the other hand, at Daytona, arcane safety car procedures meant that catching up with the leader was merely a matter of waiting for the next full course caution period, when the leading cars (in each class) would be lined up nose-to-tail for the restart. Unless you were in a situation where you were about to fall off the lead lap, or in a position to unlap yourself from the leader in order to get back onto the lead lap, there was little point in trying to really go for it and establish an advantage. Much better to hold station, play follow-my-leader, and save the big effort for the final dash to the flag.

Both formats required sharp minds on the pit wall making the tactical decisions, and in both races the winners deserved the spoils of victory, in my view. Crucially, though, both races held the spectators’ interest throughout. The fact that cars which stopped out on the circuit could be brought back to the garages to be worked on; the fact that, at Daytona, you could benefit from the ‘free pass’, or ‘lucky dog’ to get back onto the lead lap, all meant that there was always action on the track, and a race result that was uncertain until the very end of the race.

Opening up a race in this way may seem unfair on teams which spend most of the time dominating, but it ensures that runaway victories do not happen, which in turn reduces the number of fans that leave before the end of the race, and keeps the competitors and drivers happy.

What made both events especially enjoyable, though, was hosts who genuinely wanted to make their guests feel welcome. Whether the guests were spectators, entrants, drivers or media, one could not mistake the helpful attitude and the eagerness to make a good impression. Despite its heritage, its atmosphere, and all the other things that go to make Le Mans the greatest race in the world, it is a lesson that one day might need to be learnt. Times change.

An afternoon with...

Just after Christmas, I had the opportunity to spend several hours in the company of Hugh Chamberlain. Hugh and I go back a long way, to before the days when he won the FIA World Endurance Championship for Group C2 cars with his Spice, through the early nineties, which included a rather sordid evening in the Shark Lounge at Daytona Beach, to his more recent appearances at Le Mans in various ‘consultancy’ roles.

I hope Hugh needs no further introduction here, and I hope that one day his book will appear… it will make fascinating reading. I visited him at his house in rural Hertfordshire, and as it was the first time that I had been, I was first given “the tour”. As we wandered the spacious grounds of the grade II listed cottage, Hugh told me how he bought the place.

“It was on a handshake,” he began, and I could feel one of Chamberlain’s stories about to start. “I’d been in the pub all night, and this chap, who I knew quite well, from the pub, was telling me that he wanted to sell, and he particularly wanted to sell it to me. ‘I want you to have it,’ he told me,” Hugh said, pointing his finger and looking me in the eye. “Well, the following morning I had a call from him, telling me that he would be contacting his solicitor later on to get the process started. … it was all news to me! I got on the phone to my solicitor and told him to stall, under no circumstances was he to do anything. After a few weeks, we had managed to agree on a price, and Small (Hugh’s wife) and I have been here ever since.”

As I already mentioned, the location is extremely rural, but there are three pubs close by. Hugh continues his tale: “Well, I asked the landlord of my pub what he knew about the chap, and he just told me that I didn’t want to buy his place because of the drains. ‘The drains?’ I said, ‘how can you possibly know about the drains?’”

“So then he told me how the chap had a bit of an alcohol problem, but that his wife didn’t know about it, so he and the landlords of the two other pubs nearby had an arrangement to leave bottles of scotch for him in the hedge over there,” Hugh indicated the hedge which ran alongside the road that I had used a few minutes earlier. “Anyway, the landlord had said to him ‘how do you stop your wife from finding the empty bottles?’ This chap, the chap I bought the place from, had said, ‘oh I just throw them in the septic tank!’”

Hugh continues: “So when we moved in, one of the first things I did was to drain the septic tank, I’d never lived in a place without proper drains before, so I didn’t really know what I was doing, but I thought that it would be a good thing to do. And when it got down low, all there was to be seen were empty whisky bottles. I don’t know how deep it went, but I do know that the whole of the bottom portion of the tank has just got bottles in there. So I just left them!”

In the garage are Jaguar XK120, a Triumph TR3 and a Mallock U2, formerly raced by Creighton Brown. Hugh’s regular transport, a Jaguar, sits outside. “They are all runners, but I have to confess that the XK120 hasn’t been out for a while. It is taxed, though; I want to give it a run later this year.” There is also another garage (“a shed,” according to Hugh), which houses various historic motorbikes (“black and white motorbikes,” he says).

Inside the cottage is a veritable treasure trove of racing paraphernalia, memorabilia and other stuff. The walls have various pictures of importance or significance to Hugh – I spot the FIA prizegiving at which he received the 1989 C2 Championship award.

“Yes, Nick Adams was there as well, of course, very pleased with himself. And afterwards, we went to the pub (as you do), and Nick has had a few, and his French, you know, it got better the more booze he’d had. Anyway, he wasn’t quite sure of the French for ‘Champion’, so like most well-educated Englishmen, he just spoke English with a French accent. So there he is, dancing on the table, shouting out to anyone who cared to listen that he was the “Champignon du Monde… je suis un champignon du monde!” We didn’t have the heart to tell him that champignon meant ‘mushroom’!”

There is also an autograph on the wall, which I recognise as that of Fangio. Clearly, a source of some pride for Hugh. “We were at Spa, and we’d just won the World Championship – for the team, we hadn’t won the driver’s title at that point, and he was walking along behind the pits. Well I said to him, “you’ve won all those world championships, and we’ve just won this one, would you mind signing something for me?” Of course he didn’t speak a word of English, but he had a translator who went nearly everywhere with him, so he agreed. And I went back to the truck and the only piece of paper I could find was the back of one of our publicity brochures. So that’s what he signed. A great man.”

An awful lot of time was spent discussing Hugh’s most recent project, which involves a prospective LMP1 entry in the World Endurance Championship. This is a tale that will have to wait to be told until more water has passed under the bridge, and at the time of writing, it is still unclear where it will finish up. But like all of Hugh’s experiences, you live through it merely by listening to the man talk about.

The final story relates again to that World Championship, as Hugh removes the trophy from its cabinet to show me. It is best described as a typical FIA trophy from it era. Lots of artistic shiny metal on a fine presentation stand. “So we got it back and were showing it round to all the boys (at the factory)”, Hugh is giggling as he speaks. “And one of the blokes looks at it points at the metal swirls which adorn the bottom part of the trophy and says: “Cor, who did the welding on that!”

A great enthusiast, a great raconteur, and, yes, a great man in his own right.

An evening with...

Before Christmas, I mentioned here on the blog that I had had the opportunity for a dinner with the three Audi Race Engineers from the 2011 Le Mans race. Thanks to a chance conversation with David Ingram, followed up by some meticulous planning by Martyn Pass, I was able to spend a light-hearted few hours in the company of Kyle Wilson-Clarke, who engineered the no. 1 car of Mike Rockenfeller, Timo Bernhard and Romain Dumas, Howden ‘H’ Haynes, who was on the no. 3 car which Allan McNish drove, and of course, Leena Gade, who was in charge on the race-winning Audi R18 of Marcel Fässler, Benoît Tréluyer and André Lotterer.

In a forthcoming issue of Racecar Engineering you will be able to read some of the results of those conversations, but in the meantime, I have the opportunity to share with you some parts that won’t make it into the magazine, but which are too good to waste.

Most of my readers here will probably have seen Audi USA’s film “Truth in 24”. For many viewers, ‘H’ is the star of the film - and having now met him twice, I am convinced that what you see in the film is no act. Haynes has led a life devoted to motor sport (apart from brief dabbles with girls and a spell in the military) since his first visit to a race meeting, the day he left hospital after his birth, 33 years ago.

Indeed, he was named after Howden Ganley, but as ‘H’ says: “there were some raised eyebrows at the name, because no-one in the hospital knew who he was!” Haynes’ mother and father were both involved driving in sprints and hill-climbs, before moving on to circuit racing, so a life around motor sport was very much his upbringing. The story comes from the family folklore that Haynes senior was pretty dedicated to his racing.

“My mother and father were at the airport after their wedding, waiting to go off on their honeymoon, when my dad got a message from his father that some pistons had just arrived, so he rushed home to rebuild the engine, leaving my mother at the airport with the suitcases!”

Inevitably, Haynes spent many of his early years getting involved in the family’s racing exploits. “From as old as I can remember, I was working on cars - as soon as I was old enough to hold a torque wrench, I was doing the wheels up,” he says.

“Dad was a very committed racer,” he goes on. “I remember my mum and I had been out once and we got home to find that the sofa wasn’t in its usual place in the lounge. My mother said: ‘where’s the sofa?’ and my dad just looked a bit sheepish and said that he really needed a new set of tyres for his race car, but there wasn’t any money left and this chap had made him a really good offer for the three piece suite…”

Whether he acknowledges it or not, his upbringing has certainly left its mark on his character - his approach to racing, even in the role of an engineer, is uncompromising; although his career path, despite his unorthodox youth, was more conventional. He graduated from the University of Wales with a degree in Mechanical Engineering, during which time he also designed and built a National Supersports (Clubmans) car for his father’s race team.

“I got a scholarship at Reynard before I went to University. I didn’t want to go to University,” he says, “because I already had a job: I’d designed two sports cars (we were beating the Mallocks), but for me, University was something I needed to do, to get a qualification, but I didn’t really want to do it. I spent University designing the next car for Zeus - it was a two-litre sportscar. When I left Uni I went back to Reynard, but in the evenings I was doing stuff for Zeus.”

Through contacts that he made at Reynard, Haynes found himself at Team Bentley at Le Mans in 2001, through to the car’s triumph in 2003, and thus he became known to Joest Racing. A role as Assistant Race Engineer at the Veloqx Audi squad followed, which led (via Champion Racing) to Haynes working as race engineer on Joest Racing’s R10, R15 and R18 cars at Le Mans.

If you look closely on the “Truth in 24” film, you’ll see Leena Gade sitting on H’s left through the 2008 Le Mans race. In 2011, Leena became a star in her own right, and if you haven’t already seen it, check out this year’s short film from Audi, “13.854 seconds”. For me, the most memorable part of the film is when André Lotterer is passing the unrecognisable wreckage of the number 1 Audi. Viewers can hear André on the radio, saying: “… who is it?” There is an emotionally charged moment of silence, followed by Leena’s voice replying: “André, it’s Rocky.”

For me, this cameo is an illustration of how close the “Audi family” operates. Although Howden, Leena and Kyle all work for Progressive Motorsport, on a contract basis for Joest Racing, who are Audi Sport’s partner in Sports-Prototype racing, you would never be able to tell, walking through Audi’s garage, who belongs to which organisation. The Audi family is a very strong ethos within the organisation, to a large extent driven by Dr Wolfgang Ullrich, Audi’s head of Motorsport. “There’s a danger, with all the success we’ve had, that we could be regarded as arrogant and insensitive,” Martyn Pass, the team’s UK Press Manager says. “Dr Ullrich is keen to ensure that Audi is a team with a human side.”

The 2011 Le Mans 24 hours was an excellent example. After the two accidents which removed McNish (Haynes’s car) and Rockenfeller (Wilson-Clarke), all eyes in the Audi garage turned to Leena. Having assisted Haynes for three years on the pit wall, she was no stranger to Le Mans, but this was her first time there in charge of a car as Race Engineer.

Wasn’t there a temptation to move across the pit wall and move Leena aside? “No,” replies Haynes without hesitation. “I just told her that I was there if she needed me and left her to it. I got my head down and had a kip.” Leena casts a sharp eye at H, who responds with a quick shake of the head that suggests that, this time, he is joking.

We move on to discuss the tactics used by Peugeot in the last hour of this year’s 24 hours, when the Peugeot driven by Marc Gene in particular, was accused of blocking the leading Audi. “It was a war,” says Leena.

“I think if the roles had been reversed we might have done the same thing,” opines H, “we’re racing after all, and racing is all about winning. You use whatever tactics are open to you.”

Kyle appears to disagree: “I think that’s the point at which Dr. Ullrich would take the decision though,” he contends. “I’m not sure that he would want to win under those circumstances.”

Another interesting view is expressed by both Haynes and Gade about racing in America. “The yellow flags make it cool,” says H. “That’s the point at which you can take a decision and gain an advantage. Look at what Allan did at Petit Le Mans in 2008, when he pulled back two laps. There’s no way even he could have done that without using the caution periods correctly. That’s where we make the difference.”

Leena takes up the theme: “I remember there was one of the European Le Mans Series races at the Nürburgring, when we were just waiting for the end of the race. There was simply nothing happening.”

This reflects a different view of endurance racing in the 21st century, more akin to the view of a sprint racer. Every lap counts, every decision is crucial and the battle for the lead is intense, throughout the race. The days have long gone when at Le Mans, the Team Manager would work out a target lap time, in the hope that by restricting its pace, the car would last until the end of the race. Haynes again: “I know that’s what they used to do, but I’ve never done that; I’ve never run to a pace. It is always flat out.”

Where Haynes is rather old-fashioned though, is in having a stop watch. “You should never rely on the timing screen,” he says, “what if the power goes down, for example at Spa in 2010?” Haynes times every lap, and has taught Gade and Wilson-Clarke to do the same. “Every track I go to, I write out the points on the circuit map where I can talk on the radio to the driver, so I don’t interrupt him when he’s flat out through Beckett’s.”

It’s the type of attention to detail that makes Haynes one of the most sought-after Race Engineers in motor-racing.

Reflecting on some of the numbers in my life

I was never really any good at celebrating birthdays. Particularly the 'big' birthdays that all my friends seem to make such a fuss about. In some ways I am sorry that the 30th, 40th and 50th anniversaries of the day I was born passed by without a party - but I don't really like parties: there are always too many people there. I would far rather have friends round in small doses and be able to have a proper conversation. And that can be done anytime, without the need for a special occasion.

Anyway, as it is in my nature to take a sideways look at things, it fell upon me recently that today is a day that I should celebrate - for exactly 20,000 days ago was the day that I was born. Since then, I have visited 672 race meetings at 35 different circuits in 11 countries (12 if you count Wales). I have probably watched getting on for 5,000 races, and inevitably, have forgotten about an awful lot of them. On the other hand, many of them stick out. I have seen 47 24-hour races, and hope that my 50th will be at Le Mans next year. Among the events I have seen are the Indianapolis 500, the Monaco Grand Prix and the Daytona 500. And I have the raceday programme for every single one of them.

I also seem to have acquired an awful lot of motor racing magazines (although I have disposed of a large number of copies of Motoring News and Autosport). But I highly value the 35 years of bound copies of Motor Sport (going back to the 1950’s), supplemented by 1923 - 1959 in digital format.

At some point down the line (on day 14,296, to be precise), I got married, and now have two wonderful children.

I also have about 120 books with a motorsport theme, but lest I be accused of a single-minded passion, I should also point out that I have watched the England national teams play cricket and football, I have seen tennis (and stock cars) at Wimbledon, show jumping at Hickstead and even seen the rugby league challenge cup final at Wembley Stadium.

There are many things that I would like to have done, that I have not (yet) done, but the passing of the years seems to make some of these less likely. At least next year I should be able to add “Olympic Games” to my list.

And there are various other memorabilia. I have a small collection of model cars, mostly in 1/43 scale, but a couple in 1/18 scale.

Then there is the box in which I store all my passes and the pile of ‘other stuff’, not really valuable, but far too interesting to throw away (just yet). Although I am not an autograph hunter, I do have original signatures from Fangio, Moss, Jackie Stewart and Phil Hill, among others, and enough photos to shake a stick at.

(It being the time of year for such things, anyone fancy doing a "who, what, where" on any of these?)

More valuable than all of ‘the stuff’ though, are the memories. As the years go by, so those memories become more important to me. But I wonder if they interest anyone else? These things are very personal, and a Blog, by its nature, is public. But hey, you don’t have to read it!

I feel very lucky to be able to do what I do in the motor-racing world. A long time ago, I used to go to races (on my own) and keep a lap chart, trying to hear the commentary over the loudspeakers and follow what was going on. And at various times, something really interesting would happen, that the commentators hadn’t noticed, and I really wanted to nudge the bloke standing next to me and tell him: “fifth place should change on the next lap - watch car no. 7!” but I never did, and he probably wasn’t interested anyway.

Nowadays, it is other people nudging me (often electronically) to point out something that I have missed as I am trying to keep track of races. The beauty is that I now have an audience (yes I admit it is only a small one) who is actually interested - and that I find very heartening.

It’s a funny world, the world of motor sport. I suspect it is like many sports, in that it often takes itself too seriously, but on the other hand it is unlike other sports as there are so many aspects to it. The rarefied world of Formula 1 is to my mind as far (or further) away from club motorsport as the top and bottom rungs of any sport. Then there are the pursuits of rallying, sprints, hillclimbs, motorbikes - it is all motor sport. Should I also include powerboating? After all, I’ve been to a couple of such events (consider the different challanges facing the competitors in the offshore event from Cowes to Torquay and back compared to the Formula 1 event at Bristol docks that I attended in the mid-1980s).

But it is a world in which the skill of the driver is frequently overshadowed by the car he is driving. For my money, this is part of the appeal. Less appealing is the fact that as a consequence, the amount of money that is invested also casts a shadow over things. But then again, by investing large sums of money into their activity, some drivers have had the opportunity to practise their art, an opportunity that the less wealthy may not have - but which results in them undoubtedly becoming more skilled.

It is a sport in which participants need to approach, but not go over, a line which separates driving safely from crashing; a line which separates triumph from disaster. Watching someone consistently improving, edging ever closer to that line without going over it, and then maintaining that level of performance, is fascinating and provides an insight into the way that racing drivers, proper racing drivers are.

More thoughts on the 2012 World Endurance Championship. (Updated)

I wrote on this subject a while ago (here) - and now we have a calendar, it is a subject that bears re-visiting.

And in case anyone doesn’t have it, here is the schedule that has been announced:
March 17th - Sebring, USA (12 hours)
May 5th - Spa, Belgium (6 hours)
June 16th / 17th - Le Mans, France (24 hours)
August 25th - Silverstone, Great Britain (6 hours)
September 16th - Interlagos, Brazil (6 hours)
September 30th - Fuji, Japan (6 hours)
October 20th - Sakhir, Bahrain (6 hours)
November 11th or 18th - China - TBA (6 hours)

Given the hints about the schedule that were being dropped by both the ACO and the FIA prior to the announcement, I was surprised by the amount of wailing and gnashing of teeth that appeared afterwards in various outlets.

On the list are four current Grand Prix circuits: Spa, Silverstone, Interlagos and Sakhir; note though that the Bahrain Formula 1 event is scheduled to take place on April 22nd, so perhaps the FIA is thinking that that a final decision about the wisdom of that event can be made following the success or otherwise of the Grand Prix.

Then there is Mount Fuji, used as recently as 2008 for the Japanese Grand Prix, and bearing in mind the fact that the circuit is owned by Toyota, one can imagine why the FIA came to announce the Japanese round there.

That leaves Le Mans and Sebring, which despite the protestations of many of our transatlantic cousins are to my mind the two circuits in the world that have the most claim to be home to worthy endurance races.

Overall, I think it is a good schedule. Undoubtedly, FIA politics is at play; but I wouldn’t expect anything else - that happens when you have an FIA-approved championship.

There are two big points that warrant further comment though: one, the inclusion of Bahrain; and two, the exclusion (by virtue of a date clash) of Petit Le Mans at Road Atlanta.

First, Bahrain. Given the political unrest, I would be far happier if it weren’t on the calendar at all. I almost certainly won’t be going anyway, but if I were to be invited, I would feel uncomfortable, knowing the disregard that authorities there have shown to simple human rights; more fundamentally than that: basic human kindness and tolerance.

As I mentioned already – there is no doubt that politics is at play. The FIA, for whatever reason, wants to hold a Grand Prix there. From all those whom I have read on the matter, before the unrest became an issue, the Grand Prix was popular, the facilities good and the organisation smooth. I suspect there is a personal chemistry between the individuals involved, and having two FIA-sanctioned, world championship events scheduled provides the possibility for a face-saving cancellation, while still enabling promises to be kept.

The chairman of the circuit, Zayed Al-Zayani, has attempted on a number of occasions to resolve some of the problems between the protesters and the government. Clearly he has a vested interest in smoothing the waters, but the very fact that he has been involved illustrates the gravity of the situation and the importance of political stability to the staging of international sports events in Bahrain.

I don’t buy the argument made by Gérard Neveu, the FIA’s WEC manager, that making the date clash with Petit Le Mans was unavoidable. I think what we have here is a clear rattling of the FIA’s sabre to let Scott Atherton and his team know who is now in charge. It is obvious to me that two US races were never going to be in the World Endurance Championship. Equally clear is that the only two contenders were Road Atlanta and Sebring. Quite aside from Sebring’s claim to a longer race and a classic pedigree, it is also the case that Sebring is a Spring race and Petit Le Mans an Autumnal one. The biggest problem the FIA had in drawing up the calendar has been that there are too many races in the second half of the season. The only alternative that would have allowed Petit Le Mans to remain on the calendar (at the expense of Sebring) would have been to have scheduled Bahrain for a March / April date. But that would have put it too close to the Formula One race for comfort. (Although an F1 / WEC double header would have been interesting).

Sebring in March is a known factor. Bahrain could be a shambles. The FIA may not be averse to risk, but in this case, they have taken the safe (at least safer) option.

Whatever the vagaries of the calendar, it is shaping up to be an interesting season ahead. Audi’s 2011 was character-building (their words) - the Le Mans win serving to shine a bright light on an otherwise dismal season. Peugeot will have to up its game in order not to succumb to an improved Audi next year - none of this year’s successes in the ILMC were run-away victories. Then there’s Toyota. I won’t be surprised to see them right on the pace from Sebring onwards.

I was lucky enough to have dinner recently with Audi engineers Howden ‘H’ Haynes, Leena Gade and Kyle Wilson-Clarke… highly informative and entertaining and of which more another time. They can’t wait for the season to start - and although there’s the small matter of Christmas to overcome first, I know how they feel.

7th December:

I hear that the FIA has now issued an amendment to this calendar - the date for the Bahrain event has been moved to September 29th and the Japanese round to October 14th. Shock! The Bahrain date now clashes with the Britcar 24 hours at Silverstone. Politics afoot? Have the FIA decided to aim its torpedoes at James Tucker? Frankly, I doubt it. I don't know why the decision has been made, but I don't see that it makes any difference. Even if there are those entrants in the WEC who want to race at Road Atlanta, the schedule, while it doesn't have an actual race date clash, doesn't really make it feasible.

I stand by my previous remarks. I believe the Bahrain GP will be cancelled and the WEC will go ahead at Sakhir. FIA honour will be satisfied.

Freedom

I am often asked to justify my assertion that sportscar racing, and the Le Mans 24 hour race in particular, is a more worthy thing to follow than Formula 1, and although I wholeheartedly believe it to be true, I usually struggle to find a way to present my case.

One of the things that I enjoy about Le Mans is the variety it provides. Although, having said that, the technical regulations usually end up giving one form of technology an advantage over others; and reliability is so strong these days (as I have discussed before) that generally means that there is only a handful of cars in a position to win the race.

Compare that to Formula 1, though, where to have even a handful of cars from which to pick a winner would be a luxury. The heart of the problem lies beyond where we are today, but in how we got here.

When I first started following motor racing, the only category in which all the cars were the same was Mini racing. Now don’t get me wrong, I love Mini racing: I always have and I am sure I always will. But, in my book, it loses a certain cadre because of the “single make” tag.

Motor racing has traditionally been about first and foremost getting an advantage over the competition by virtue of a technological advantage and then finding a driver capable of handling such a vehicle. Yes, Formula 1 is all about the drivers, but there have been many occasions in the past when the World Drivers’ Champion has won his title by virtue of being in the best car, not by virtue of being better than everybody else.

It is a paradox, but one which lends interest and gives the sport more charm. While I am sure that innovative thinking is still an intrinsic part of the Formula 1 world, these days it is in tiny, narrow back-alleys that few see or understand. Blown diffusers and F-ducts may be inspirational developments, but when I was young we had big high wings, air-boxes, turbines (as well as turbo-chargers), six-wheelers and fans, to name but a few.

This was radical thinking that you could see, that made you sit up and take notice. That’s what I like about Le Mans’ “56th garage”. The ACO may never quite have got the equivalence right, but they have encouraged alternative approaches for years and have been a far better shop-window for technological development - certainly in more recent years - than Formula 1.

Formula 1 may not be a single-make ‘spec’ formula, but both GP2 and GP3, the official ‘feeder’ series, are. And the Formula 1 regulations these days are so restrictive, that you are not free to alter any of the bodywork dimensions, still less choose your engine configuration, your fuel type or your tyres. Partly of course this is all due to cost-control; but if the money were not there, it would not be spent. Much more it is due to a restrictive rule book.

I read a quote from Pat Symonds earlier this year, that in 1983 the F1 technical regulations ran to 11 pages. In 2010 it was 67 pages - to say nothing of a 62 page appendix and various ‘technical directives’. But the heart of the difference between this and Le Mans is that if you come up with something a bit wacky and take it to the organisers, you can then make a case for getting an entry. In Formula 1, the doors to technical innovation are constantly being slammed shut.

However, a bit like any good thing, it is only good if it is under control; uncontrolled freedom is anarchy. With the number of turbo-charged and diesel-fuelled cars on the public roads these days, their participation in the 24 hours is obviously reasonable. I am all in favour of Ben Bowlby’s DeltaWing project and I wish it the best of luck in the 2012 event. Aside from its obvious visual impact, I applaud the principle of less power and less weight. It is, for me, an appealing idea.

Less appealing (to me) is hybrid technology. I was never one to follow conventional wisdom, and at the risk of being proved completely wrong, I think Hybrid will not be with us long.

In the mid-1970’s, the world was in the grip of the Middle East fuel crisis. In the UK, the government went as far as issuing coupons, in order to be ready for the increasingly likely scenario that fuel rationing would be introduced. In France, the ACO reacted against the inevitable criticism that the Le Mans 24 hours was a dreadful waste of fuel, by introducing a rule that forced cars to complete at least 20 laps between refuelling stops for the 1975 race. This represented something like a 20% improvement over the previous year and added around 15 seconds to lap times. In the end, the reduced pace meant that reliability was better and more cars completed the race than ever before. So the amount of fuel consumed by the race was actually more, rather than less, than in previous years.

My concern is that similar unintended consequences arise with hybrid technology. Fuel consumption is improved, but marginally. And the environmental cost of getting hold of the lithium required for the battery elements of a Hybrid is far in excess of the fuel saved. Half of the world’s known lithium is in Bolivia. Recent US investigation has suggested that a similar amount might be in Afghanistan. The sad fact is that the Western world sees it as acceptable that we ravage such states with impunity, with little regard for rain-forest or other environmental aspects.

The clue is in the name. Should not a racing car be a thoroughbred? By its very nature, a hybrid is a compromise, a halfway house, neither one thing nor another. Be assured, the R&D departments of the world’s motor manufacturers are busy beyond hybrid towards other fuels and types of engines.

And do you know what? I bet we see those technologies at Le Mans before we see them in a Formula 1 race.