quinta-feira, 31 de dezembro de 2009

Time as come


So life changes, things happen, and choices have to be made.
And after 3 years of fun and amazing adventures it's time to let it go.
A change of cities, a change in jobs, and unfortunatly the lack of conditions to store my precious next to me.
It saddens me and fills me with a great sense of loss, but it must be so.
My last big drive was a 600km blast filled with highspeed climbs, high-G turns, and awesome overtakings..
I loved it, I love it, and I'll always will.
But alas it must be.

To everybody who shared my passion and my many milles of adrenaline I thank you.
Someone else will enjoy it now, and maybe one day I'll be able to have another silver bullet to enjoy the amazing roads of Europe.

'Till then..

quinta-feira, 1 de outubro de 2009

Millionaire dreams

What a month this has been!
Through all the work and some well spent time at the beach enjoying the last few rays of summer sun, I managed to do a long drive with my car, amazing as it is and how I can manage to be so far away from it for so long.
I also had some close encounters with some proper 4 wheeled monsters, as you can see from the pictures below.
A million Euros is a lot of cash!
And you can’t stop but wonder: would I really, REALLY spend a million euros in “just” this car?
I mean it’s THE car of the decade, but even now I doubt it will ever dethrone the mighty Macca from the top of the automobile food chain.
I haven’t driven neither unfortunately, but it kind of makes me wonder: would I?
When I could have a Zonda F for less, a Bristol fighter for a lot less, and even a nice pristine Enzo with some Edo tuning for about the same..
Ultimatly, you would choose according to your liking!
I’m still a bit of a racer, and to me the sleek lines of the Enzo with the Edo treatment would have me from the first glimpse.
The Zonda would be my “sensible” choice. The one to drive everyday and not worry too much.
The Bristol, well, if I lived in London.. Maybe…
The Bug is an amazing achievement and my kudos to VW and Bugatti for having it built.
I have seen the road tests and videos, and it is an amazing piece of machinery.
Having seen one in the flesh it does have outstanding craftsmanship and interior quality and care in it’s design.
But it’s a big, heavy car.
And that’s an issue for me.
You see lightness, for me, is the ONLY way to go.
I practically sold my car to pre order the next Ferrari when they put out the millechilli prototype, and it’s no secret how I feel about their first derivative of that project (just read the next post).
Lotus is “IT” for me, mainly because of the lightweight mantra.
They just fly, where others rattle and shake.
And when it comes time to turn (what really separates a great car, from a fast car) they just go like some divine hand is holding them down to the pavement.
After some particularly spirited driving I often wonder if Collin himself wasn’t giving me some pointers from above, or discussing with Senna how I could have negotiated that better.
There’s another option of course: the MC12.
I was actually more excited about it than I was about the bug.
It’s just so.. out of this world!
It’s a racer through and through!
And the sound it makes is addictive.
You just want more of it, like some high-octane and decibel junkie!
It’s cheaper too, with examples being sold for less than a Mill.
Lighter, witch means it doesn’t need 1001HP, 624 are more than enough.
And you can use it to impress your neighbours, who won’t be impressed if you show up with a Veyron, they’ll just take you for a snob!
Ah well, if someday I’ll happen to have a million quid lying around I know I’ll have a hard time choosing…

I didn't have my camera or phone with me when I "met" the MC so this is your standard google pic

Avenue Montaigne, Paris. Unforgetable day!

quarta-feira, 12 de agosto de 2009

quattro cinque otto


I have a love affair with Italy!
I suppose that in a country that hails beauty in all it’s forms and shapes like that one, I too feel a bit more beautiful (or less ugly).
I’m a sucker for Italian food and clothing, but most of all Italian cars!
The sleek lines of a Pininfarina designed Ferrari, the sheer monstrosity of a Lamborghini Murcielago and the finesse of a Pagani Zonda..
Truly the stuff of masters, and as an art form, it’s one that’s been perfected through the centuries, having all the great impressionist artists as forefathers.
But this week, I drooled!
Not over Monica Bellucci – pretty common drooling symptom on a male adult of the human species; but over the pictures of the new Ferrari 458 Italia!
Oh My God!
It renders all other cars before it common and, in fairness, quite blunt.
The prowess of it’s design is only surpassed by the technological achievements in it’s engine compartment.
The specific output; the torque, the acceleration figures, the consumption figures, and, to those green heads out there who only think in CO2 terms, the low emissions, they just keep me yearning, aching for one in my hands.
The price is high, of course.
But it’s a Ferrari for crying out loud.
It’s the epitome of automotive brilliance.
Ok, so there’s the Pagani.
But a Ferrari has heritage, history, blood, sweat and an Ocean full of tears!
It’s the story of a man towering above an entire industry.
And it’s red.
Red ones go faster after all.
And this new one….
Even it’s name is evocative of those great Ferraris of yore.
458, meaning it’s a 4.5 litre engine with 8 cylinders.
And then, as a tribute to the country that saw it become the stuff of legend, more than just mere childhood dream: Italia!
I love that country.
And I love that car!
I want one!

segunda-feira, 3 de agosto de 2009

Universal truth

"Race car driving is like sex: all men think they're good at it" - Jay Leno on Top Gear

sábado, 1 de agosto de 2009

In the 'Ring..

Strange things pass by when you're in the Ring..


quarta-feira, 29 de julho de 2009

In and out


So after nearly two months of arriving from the trip the car has been in and out of the shop with constante pressure losses that seem to elude everybody.
Luckily the guys at Speedsterforum.de and vx220.org are the greatest bunch and keep feeding me info on what must i check and what can be wrong with it so it's not all bad.
I mean at least I am aware of others like me and it keeps you dreaming about the day when your car will be as good as theirs (that's especially true to you cs! I do love that black thing you drive!).

One bittersweet truth that I am now coming to accept is that I must go to Germany once again with my car for a proper tune up.
Maybe not to upgrade it, but just to have it checked out by someone in the know..

It's also a very good excuse to return to the 'Ring :)
Let's wait and see..

quarta-feira, 15 de julho de 2009

my co-pilot



You’re only as good as the person standing next to you.

This is a great truth, and never before had I experienced it as I did on this trip.
Fred’s a great guy, but life wouldn’t normally connect us, fate did.
We took a post grad degree together, and from a professional liason we became friends with a craving for motors and cars.
Oh, and airplanes!
And, when things went wrong in my dream journey I didn’t back down or decided not to go.
No.
I immediately called Fred and asked him to join me.
Which he did.
And it was the BEST thing that could have happened.
I mean, having someone next to you, talking to you, cheering you, and even waking you up when you just want to sleep out your tiredness.
It was amazing, I don’t think I’ll ever thank him enough.
And, obviously, my performance at the ‘Ring was not humiliating because of him.
“full speed, right turn after the straight, watch that apex…”
A knowledgeable and dependable person.
I was really lucky with my decision and he was the most amazing and stocked guy that I could have as a partner in this long trip.

And yes, Maria, trust me, he was a saint!! -> I did try to take him off the track once in a while but he stoically resisted. Guess French women aren’t that cute after all :P

sábado, 4 de julho de 2009

going back home


“Damn this GPS!!”
This was all I could say for about half an hour.
We had left Nurburg around 19:00, and we had booked a night in Reims (around 300kms) but in Belgium the GPS made us do some sort of detour by some awful, filled with potholes B-road.
The car just shivered and jiggled and slowly, really slowly we moved on (there were parts were we did less than 20Km/h for fear of the damage caused to the car).
Initially we had joined a Porsche 968CS complete with roll cage for the journey back, but then we followed the GPS’s directions and got lost….
When we did arrive in Reims, all we could think of was food, being starved enough to consider eating the padding of our seats….
The night was short but Ok.
Reims is a fairly small city, with a lot of road work being done and personally I just wanted to get out of there and get home.
I get like this all the time when I travel: after the highlight of the journey has been reached I seem to be unable to enjoy the rest of it, only thinking about returning home.
This was about to change though..
We charged through France relentlessly, stopping only for fuel and food.
We did do a bigger stop at some service station when we met up with a really nice Frenchman in his Lotus Seven.

A frenchman's Sportscar: They don't all drive 2CVs

He wore an aviation jacket and goggles to drive the thing, and he was really pationate (being French and all….) about his cars and driving.
He showed us pics of his other car: a proper racing car much like a Radical or Westfield XTR.
He was having some problems with the carburetor and took the cover of the engine out (much like taking my hardtop) to check it out!
It’s so simple to build a fun-car really.
You looked at that car and it was no more than a chassis, a simple 4-pot engine, two seats and a small windshield.
We parted but the moment was really enjoyable.
People gathered around to chat about our cars, ask questions, give friendly advice and the “thumbs up”.
On the road again, it was Fred’s time with the car, I took a few pictures and dosed off for a few moments.
When I opened my eyes and saw that direction sign pointing to: Le Mans I just felt so melancholical.
The beautiful eyed girl from the museum store, the race track. I should just move there and spend the rest of my days enjoying the city!
But I still had one more place to go to: Hossegor!
I don’t know how many of you are into surfing, but living in a country like Portugal does this to you: you can’t be too far away from the Ocean for too long, otherwise you skin will fall off.
And Hossegor is one of those places you just have to go one day.
It’s where the European leg of the ASP World Championship Tour takes place, and it’s known because it provides big waves that are more common in the Tahitian and Hawaiian beaches.
I admit that I didn’t know quite what to expect.
In Portugal the most famous beaches are all invaded with tall buildings that ruin the landscape, and crowd is not just a word, but an epidemic that spreads through the waves.
The first part of Hossegor is a small town, with the usual surf shops, beautiful homes, not that much traffic and really nice people.
The “second part” of Hossegor… Is California!
Seriously!
You know those TV series where you see Malibu, Orange County, all the surfers and surfer girls, skaters on the sidewalks, people just “hangin’” not really doing anything, just enjoying themselves and the sunset?
That’s Hossegor!
And I loved it!
Fred knew nothing about it, to my amazement, and I gave him a quick brief of what goes on in that little city every year.

Our hotel was really nice, beach front, but luckily my room had a “city view” which was worst for everybody else, but perfect for me, as this allowed me to check my car :)
I think the pictures speak for themselves, but in case they don’t: I loved the place!
I’ve said this a couple of times now, but really I could live here!
It’s just so…. Me!
It’s like my hometown but with world class surfers and waves!
Oh, and smaller houses :)
We dined at a local restaurant and even rooted for Barcelona on the Champions Football final!
Personally I couldn’t care less about who won, but everybody was a Barcelona fan so….
After dinner we took a stroll down the beach and found…. Kelly Slater!
Ok, only Kelly Slater’s cemented footprint but still…. It’s Kelly’s!!!!

Quick question: do you know who Kelly is?
I’m just asking ‘cause, again, Fred was oblivious to him, and so he just stared at me with amazement in his face as to why I was almost freaking out over this foot print.
Kelly’s a living legend!
He’s the guy that’s set the bar so high in Surfing that I don’t think no one will ever beat him.
As I write this, he just won the Brazilian leg of the 2009 tour! Go Kelly!
Think Michael Schumacher of Surfing plus two.
Two you ask?
Two I say! Because Michael, being the freak of nature of a pilot that he his, only managed to win 7 times the World Title, and Kelly, absurdly had the guts to win it NINE, that’s 9 times!
He took the liberty of quitting professional surfing after his 5th or 6th title and then came back for more!
Rumor has it that when he won the 7th title, Lance Armstrong, the cycling champ who won the Tour de France seven times already went up to him and said: welcome to the seven club!
Now Lance, you have two to go if you want to keep up with Kelly there…. :)
Yeah, I’m a fan…. :)

Anyway, next morning the sun was shining, and the waves were pumping but no boards and a desperate urge to return home meant it was mounting the puzzle at the boot with all the stuff in and just take a few more pictures.

Take a good look at that wave..

(When I came home I took a closer look on one of the pictures and my jaw dropped.. See for yourself..)Now take a better look!

Au revour France, Holla España!
To a Portuguese Spain feels like home already!
We may have some rivalries but it’s all in good fun, and the Bask country is a much different thing, beautiful anyway you look, smelly with flowers and trees perfuming the roads, nice helpful people, oh, and delicious food!

Bask country: beautiful!


We passed a truck that remind me of work, seems I can’t get too far away from it, it comes to haunt me wherever I am. But I still had a few days left :)

The Spanish “Carreteras” – roads; are all very good and most importantly: free and not very controlled with some speed cameras here and there.
We entered Portugal at about 16:00 and I had to stop and get out of the car.
MY country!
I travel quite a lot, and I meet people that bash on their countries, and people that stand up for them.
I know mine is just a small one, on the corner of Europe, and palles in comparison with mammoth economies and civilizations like Germany and France, but still, I love it, I love my country!
I could live abroad, I could really.
I loved Italy and Denmark, and the south of France is also really appealing, but my heart would always beat faster for Portugal.
Now only 2 hours where separating us from my city!
Ah, open windows, clear skies, warm rays of sunlight in our skin….
Suddenly I could see it, far away: the Ocean! MY Ocean!
I was home!
Kilometers where dispatched at a “I’m-sorry-officer-the-car-just-went-for-it-and-i-lost-control-of-the-speed-i-was-going” rate, and soon enough we were on the main straight to my little beach paradise.
It was funny though, that, being Portuguese and warm blooded, some guy in a Audi A3 TDI still thought he could keep up with us and so started accelerating like a maniac to pass us.
He did, for about 4 seconds..
Honor was at stake here!
We took the stuff out of the boot, drank a bottle of water each, and I was off again to take Fred home.


Staring at the Ocean I felt my heart warm up and beat just a bit faster.
I had done it.
We had done it.
The Journey to the ‘Ring was now over, and all was well.
Time for a swim..


segunda-feira, 29 de junho de 2009

The NurburgRing


The "Green Hell"!
Tales of horror and near-death have haunted the spirits of every fuel-fed car enthusiast.
The glory of doing the ‘Ring in a “decent” time prevails forever.
To master that track is the ultimate trophy, but who can truly say that masters it?
For it is like a wild beast, untamable.
The ‘Ring has been part of my imagination for a few years now, and when the Nissan GT-R appeared and all the “Porschegate” case started I only got more drawn to it.
Never a very computer game oriented person I actually did try and played Gran Turismo to learn the track, but to no avail. I really can’t steer a joystick in the proper manner.
So I was a ‘Ring virgin when I got there, and luckily Fred knew the track better than most guys know their girlfriends, otherwise I would have been quicker if I walked around the track instead of driving it.
The day begun in the usual way: sunny skies and a few miles ahead.
We went first to the RSR HQ to take care of all the details regarding our car for the afternoon.
Everybody was amazing.
Not just nice and thoughtful, but really amazing.
From Dale who showed us around and talked to us about the ‘Ring and RSR, to Ron, the Boss, who was the nicest guy, again, and asked for more details on what had happened to my car and how we could try and fix it in a near by shop if we wanted.
We spent a few minutes in front of a TV seeing a movie of an amazing wet lap in an Alfa Romeo just like the one we were about to take.
We signed the papers and since we had about 5 hours to burn went to the souvenir store.
There we were met by memorabilia from the “good old days” to the newly designed NurburgRing logo and merchandise.
We each bought a t-shirt and a bunch of other smaller stuff, and took picures next to the bronze statue of Sir Sterling Moss!
Lunch followed in the company of the greatest bunch of British bikers.
It turns out they go to the ‘Ring every year and they filled us with stories of the Green Hell and how it all worked over there.
We got lucky even, because just above our restaurant was this amazing place to look at the track were we spent the remaing hours until we headed of back to RSR.
Let me just tell you that the sound of 3, three, F430 Scuderias passing by in fury is something I think I’ll never forget.
A GT-R is silent next to them, and even Fred had to admit that his precious GT3RS sound much more restrained than that screaming howl of those high revving V8s….
Glorious stuff I tell you!
Back at RSR, we each picked up a helmet and had a few laughs with this really nice American that had come all the way from the States to drive the ‘Ring.
And then it happened: it started to rain.
All they grey clouds were above us, and during all day they had kept themselves from droping down water.
But now it was raining.
The fear of losing control of the car grew exponentially and we both cursed out loud for not being able to push the car further for fear of the wet track (we were going with slick tires, bear in mind).
Then the greatest thing happened: Dale turned to us and said that he was going to take his car (a 3.0 liter V6 Alfa Romeo 75) for a run down the track to check out if it was still drivable, and if the tires needed changing. He asked if we wanted to go with him.
Funny thing he had to ask. I wondered for about 10 seconds about the possibility of anybody turning him down on this….
When we were in the queue to enter the track he called HQ and told them to put regular road tires in the cars. It was now clear that the raining wasn’t going to stop.
We passed the tolls, and he accelerated a bit more, nothing out of the ordinary (it’s a bloody old Alfa V6, mind), but when he got to the first turn my lips turned to this gigantic GRIN.
Have I told you by any chance that Dale was a former Drifter in the U.K.?
Well, he was, and by the looks of things, he hasn’t lost zilch of his capabilities.
On two or three turns we even went further then 90 degrees of drift from the apex.
WOW!
I just burst out laughing!
And the ease with which he did it all!
His hands just spinning the wheel at an amazing speed while at the same time he talked us through the turns and straights and where we should push and were we should be careful.
When it ended I wanted him to do it again! :)
The cars were ready and heated up when we arrived.
We picked up our card and went to the track to have our fun!
We were going one at a time, and Fred was first to have a go.
I met up with our biker friends who had already been at the track and said it was soaked!!
I timed from the outside how long it took Fred to do his first lap: around 14 minutes.
First time ever, not bad, on a totally wet track, with a strange car in his hands.
He went for the second track and again I pushed the stop watch.
In the meantime I got busy besides the nice chat with our biker friends, watching all the amazing machinery that passed by.
On one of those occasions I saw him.
I had already chased him at lunch time, but I couldn’t be totally sure if it was indeed him.
Now I was.
Mr. Henry Catchpole from EVO magazine.
I’ve been buying that mag since… forever. And before I bought my car I read absolutely everything they had to say on the subject.
And now, the “newest addition” to EVO’s editorial staff was passing in front of me, in a V10 powered, white Audi R8.
Nice!!
Fred appeared from the gate. 12minutes and a few seconds. Not bad at all!
Away he went again, and again I clocked.
But now time passed and he didn’t show up.
All of a sudden a ambulance takes of from the pits.
I started to succumb to my imagination.
Oh please let him be Ok. Please!
I could never forgive myself!
14 minutes.
15 minutes.
16, 17, 18….
DARN!
20 minutes and no sign of him.
I’m cursing out loud now, where the F$&/ is he????
All of a sudden he shows up, big grin in his face: Did you checked my time?
“Yeah, you took, oh, almost 2 weeks!! What the hell have you been doing?”
It turns out that when he passed the tolls, he had been told to stay put.
That’s when the ambulance entered the track, but from where I was standing I couldn’t see him idling just after the tolls.
We changed seats and he risked is physical integrity to be my co-pilot.
I will never be able to thank him enough.
With him by my side telling me the turns and camber and length of the straights I could push my driving and post times that didn’t make me embarrassed to publicly state.

The best one I did?
Around 12:20 give or take a few seconds.
I’m pretty proud of that time considering that professional EVO drivers in a race prep VW Scirocco took 11:44 or something to do the track, so for a first time on track, with a old beaten Alfa Romeo (albeit also race prep with roll cage and seats)…
YEAH, I’m BLODY PROUD OF MYSELF!!

domingo, 7 de junho de 2009

3rd day - From Spa to Giessen to Nurburg


So it’s 9 o’clock in the morning of Monday and we’re at Spa.
It’s a beautiful sunny day and we have to go to Giessen to get the car checked out by one of the BEST specialists in the world.
I had sent him an email a few weeks ago confirming date and time of our arrival and everything was going according to plan.
I had scheduled a hotel in Giessen to let him work on the car for two full days before going to Nurburg with it to tackle the ‘Ring!
We have breakfast and head out to the Spa-Francorchamps circuit.
Major disappointment!
It’s closed, it’s just a race track, and pales in comparison with the magic that we had just experienced at Le Mans.
I mean…. It’s “just” a race track.


We leave and enter the highway for Germany, straight on, 300 kms to go.
We are reminded that we are about to exit Belgium and enter Germany, which we happily do.
And then it happens: a de-restricted autobahn!
AHH!!
Bliss!
Heaven can’t be much better than this.
Well, only if you get to be here and drive a Ferrari Enzo instead!
200, 220, 230, 240, nearly 250 and I lift off.


It’s scary in a little car, with two people, filled with bags at the back, and other cars around you, and not having to worry about the police….
Weird stuff that happens in some parts of the world.
I look at the time and immediately became aware that there’s no way I’m gonna be on time.
I call Mr. Regelin and let him know that I’m late to which he replies that he’s: surprised I’m coming because he didn’t receive any email from me and he has absolutely NO time to look at my car for the next two weeks”
…… Now I’m speechless (and trust me this is hard!)
“Can you please do a remap on my car?” – the map has been showing some pretty serious holes and I believed a remap might solve this.
“Yes, a remap can be done, but there’s nothing else I can do if that doesn’t solve your problems.”
It didn’t! But he was the Kindest person you could think of.
He took the car for a spin when I arrived, opened up the engine compartment, checked all out, remapped the ECU, took it for another spin, and gave me a full report on what he believed was wrong with the car – I’m currently waiting for my technician to assemble the new parts and do the stuff Mr. Regelin said.



When we were there, it stopped making sense spending the extra night in Giessen, so we called the hotel and they were really nice with our annulment and didn’t charge anything (it was before 18:00).
We packed up and left for Nurburg instead with strict instructions not to use the car on track.
“I’m serious, the engine will BLOW if you push it! Let the Porsches go!”
I was sad, bummed, disappointed, whatever you want to call it.
I had planned glorious adventures in the ‘Ring.
Record beating laps.
Front pages on all international newspapers, an invitation to join Ferrari as an F1 test driver, everything really!
And now, none of that would happen!
(which is actually good, ‘cause this way I have an excuse for it NOT to happen!)


I was still going to go to the NordSchleiff, even if it was just for a quiet drive around the track.
And then I remembered having read about these guys, close to the track that rented cars specifically for using on the NurburgRing: RSR Nurburg!
And I cannot recommend them enough!
I mean they are THE GREATEST!




We arrived at the hotel in Nurburg beaten, bummed and sweated (you do sweat allot inside that car) and I just wanted to get my hands on something that I could take to the track and not be afraid of it blowing in my hands the next day.
“What’s wrong with your car?”
“Uh? Well, it’s the Intercooler that it’s not cooling...”
I tell him what car I drive, and all the other info he asks me and he says with a “smile in his voice” that he knows these guys that are great with this sort of car.
I mean, this is amazing! He’s genuily concerned and interested in my car.
We booked a Alfa Romeo 75, Stage 2, complete with Roll Cage, Racing slick tires and rear wheel drive.
And I took a shower, had a beautiful dinner at the Hotel Rieder’s restaurant – great service, great guy in charge of it, and peaceful quiet rooms with great view; and went for a walk alone in the nearby roads.

Very warm outside, I was wearing shorts and a t-shirt; seeing the airplanes flying above me, noticing how different the stars look from here, all the different constellations…..

And then it dawned on me: the next day I would be racing the NurburgRing!
The Green Hell!

quinta-feira, 4 de junho de 2009

day 2 - from Le Mans to Spa

VVVRRROOOOOAAMMMMM
This was my wake up call!
The exige 260Cup had just turned on it’s engine! And what a noise that was!
I jumped out of bed and looked out the window.
Sure enough there was a man behind the Exige a pony-tailed woman behind the Elise (girlie car?) both taking off to God-knows-where.
I sat by the desk to finish a report that I should have finished before leaving and took a quick shower.
Fred was already awake and 20 minutes later we took off as well.
Destination? Le Mans museum!
But before that, and with an empty car in our hands, we just couldn't resist doing the public part of the circuit one more time.
I mean: it's Le mans, there road is empty, and you're in a sports car.You just have to don't you?
Yes, you do. And you should too, as it's one of the most memorable moments we had, and I think I can still hear my laughing when I left the car parked by a turn.
Ok, museum.
When I got there I froze.
There, in big, capital letters was the writing: CIRCUIT DES 24 HEURES DU MANS!


Big, Blue on red, with the entrance to the race track bellow it.
I parked the car at the first available place and we almost ran inside with excitement.
I had asked the toll boy at the race track if we could visit the circuit and he said a ticket could be bought in the museum to grant us access to the race track, so my first question when we entered was to know where to buy and how much would it cost.
This was my first question, but I managed to ask a whole lot more as the beautiful young woman behind the counter was gorgeous and with that French sexyness that immediately makes you wanna quit your job, sell everything you own and move to a little cottage with her.
She guided me through the museum items: T-shirts; caps, Polos, stickers, …. A few more but admittedly I wasn’t paying much attention to that, or to anything else inside the store either.
She spoke near perfect English and had the most beautiful smile you could imagine that side of a baguette. Ahhh…. I love Le Mans….
Sadly Fred called me back to reality and told me we had to visit the museum and the race track and that we still had a lot of miles to do.
Bye bye little cottage with beautiful French lady inside….
The museum was great!
I mean, I’m not a very “museum-kind-of-guy”, and it still took me about 20 minutes to see it all.
There’s pictures of all the great drivers, pictures of the various stages of circuit evolution, and, of course, cars! Lots and lots of cars!
From old carcasses that got Fred wishing he had a few million quid hidden somewhere, to ultra-recent LMP1 winners like the Bentley and Audi and Peugeot.
I took pictures of the whole thing, especially my favourite: the Mazda Rotary-powered P1 that won Le Mans more than a decade ago.
I once had a love affair with a Mazda RX7 – 2nd gen; and I read all I could possibly get my hands on about that engine.
And when I learned that a rotary powered car managed to race on the most legendary of endurance races and win I was in awe. Amazing car, amazing technology! Congratulations Mazda.


Sooooo, to the museum store again, maybe they have some new items since a few moments ago….
CLOSED! What?? I turn my head to the museum entrance lady and she tells me that “Elle a sortie por dejeuner” Which is something like: she left for lunch!
Good! As Schwarzenegger would put it: I’ll be back!
Start the car, get to the toll, show the tickets, and drive inside!
There were Lotus everywhere!
Exiges, Elises, Elans,Europas, Speedsters, old ones from the 60s, and a brand new blue Evora!


We drove through the roads next to the track while we wondered what was happening and why were there so many Lotus cars inside.
Fred stepped out of the car and I went in pursuit of a black Exige that had strayed from the herd.
“Bonjour, pardonnez moi, mais qu’est qui ce passe?”
« C’est la réunion annuel de Club Lotus France ! »
AH ! I was enlightened already!
So it seems that Lotus France had scheduled their annual meeting for this weekend, in Le Mans, while I was there.
So nice of them really, don’t you agree?
The gentleman also pointed that there was a car like mine on the track, and that if we were doing a automotive-driven trip we should go to Mulhouse to the Cité de l’Automobile, supposedly the greatest auto museum in the world, and he looked like the kind of person who had seen a few.
Dully noted! Back to Fred and the great pictures he had taken of the Lotus going around the track.
I had this belief that maybe, just maybe we could be allowed inside the track for a spin with the rest of the lot, but Fred pointed out that nobody was racing, they were just “strolling”.
Ah! That’s no fun at all is it?
So, again we leave the track, the museum is still closed and none of us had breakfast, so what do we do?
Head for the city and search for a restaurant!
We didn’t have to search much though, as close to the track there’s one of France’s many Buffalo Grills, also redecorated with about 10 Lotuses of all kinds and shapes in the front yard.
I parked my car next to a white, track ready 2-eleven and peek inside: nothing but a fire extinguisher and some buttons. WOW! And this thing should be light as a feather….
I step inside the restaurant and immediately see a team eating with shirts that match the stickers on the 2-eleven.
I sit down, order my meal, and moments later while waiting for the much desired ribs to appear in front of me I get up and go to their table and ask them if it’s their car.
“Oui. Vous désiré de la voir? Would you like to sit inside?”
“Oh yes! Very much so, thank you! Merci beaucoup!”
So we step outside the restaurant into the parking lot and I really, CLIMB inside the car.
I mean, it has nothing inside, but I didn’t want to step on the seat or anything, so care was taken in order to avoid shame and misplacing my feet!
Once inside they showed me how to start the engine, and if I thought my engine was loud, this one was in a whole new level of loudness….
I blipped the throttle a few times and pictured myself doing the Monaco chicane at full speed in that thing. Aaahhhh to be a boy and dream again….
I got out, or flew out, whichever you preferd, and returned the favour: the pilot sat inside my car and turned the engine on.
“It’s a turbo, no?”
“Oui, yes it is! Addictive torque.”
We had a few laughs and talked a bit more but they had to go back to the track and I had lunch on the table waiting for me.
Fred had stayed inside and I didn’t ask no-one to take my picture. Shame on me.
Lunch was great (this is France, remember) but time was already running out and we had to leave.
First, a quick return to the museum store and had the beautiful woman join me in choosing something to buy.
I ended with a nice polo and when I was paying she asked if I wanted a poster.
“Sure! I’d love one.”
She smiled, ripped my heart open with those beautiful eyes, and rolled up a poster for me.
“Ah, sorry, is it too much to ask for another one? You see I came here with a friend…”
“Pas de problème. No problem.”
Again, another smile, and another palpitation inside my chest.
I smile, she smiles back, we say goodbye and that’s the end of my love affair with Le Mans.
Inside the car it’s boiling hot, with more than 30 degrees outside, even with the windows open it’s like a franchise of hell in there.
Fred urges me to step on the gas to allow the wind to circulate inside but allas, we’re still inside the city and I can’t speed that much.
Once on the highway though, it does improve a bit.
Not by much, as our sweeted shirts and jeans go to show, but it is better than roasting in the sun when we have to stop.
Beeing respectful to the speed limits meant we often got overtaken, even by urban city cars.
On one of those occasions a Citroen C1 with an Italian license plate and filled with 4 young girls passed us and waved.
Ok, their Italian, and in Italy you love cars as much as you love pizza, right?
Well, almost.
These girls stayed with a us for a while, and we overtook each other a few times, all in good fun.
The BIG surprise was the immense traffic that awaited for us.
I mean, I had never, ever seen anything like that, and I have my share of road trips.
Fred quickly found the answer: It was Sunday, sunny day, and everybody went to the nearby beaches for the weekend and was now returning home.
It took us almost a full hour just to get pass the tolls, let alone the rest of the highway clogged as it was.
Our route was taking us through Paris and that was the biggest possible mistake.
I don’t know if there was any alternative road, but this was impossible.
Not even London during rush-hour has this much traffic.
When we approached Belgium, things got a bit better, and by then we were able to speed up a bit.
I see a small, red car on the horizon: a Lotus Exige R. British plates and right hand side steering wheel.
We drive together and all of a sudden we’re in a convoy with a Porsche Carrera 4; and a 997 Turbo. Yeah!
We speed up and the Exige is the first to throw the towel.
At two tons the Carrera also pulls to the side lane, and 20km/h more it’s my turn to let the Turbo go.
That thing is fast! Seriously fast!
The landscape changes also from yellow in France, to a beautiful green in Belgium.
Obviously they have a lot more rain in here.
You also appreciate the “chateaux” that pop every other mile.
Ah! One of these and my beautiful Le Manian princess :)
It’s getting dark now, we’re hungry, and the Belgium roads aren’t all that good.
There are a couple of tunnels were we have some fun but soon we’re on a detour has the main road to Spa is closed.


Great!
In the middle of the night, sweated, hungry, tired, and in a small road to Spa.
We managed to get there unharmed and were greeted with a town party.
Again: how nice of them!
Everybody was cheering and jumping, and partying in the middle of the streets.
We parked the car in the hotel’s garage and drop our stuff in the room.
It turns out Liege, the near by football team, had just won the Belgium championship, so everybody was celebrating.
Good!
It’s 11 o’clock at night, it’s warm outside, everybody’s happy and there’s a pizza parlor open and with mouth watering pizzas for us.
We sit down and relax for the first time in almost 14 hours.
We’re in Spa! And a good Spa is exactly what we need!


terça-feira, 2 de junho de 2009

day 1 - from Portugal to Le Mans: 1400kms

It’s 4:30 and I’ve had about 2 hours sleep, tops!
I’ve heard some rain drops on the windows, but there’s no wind and the rain had come and gone, lasting just a few minutes.
I rose myself from the couch where I’d stayed and hit the shower.
When I step out I hear It again: the constant falling of drops of water that scare the hell out of me since I’m about to do 1400kms in one take, in a cocooned environment, in a noisy, unpractical, uneconomical, and un-a lot-of-things car.
I get dressed and while Fred (my co-pilot and admittedly as-insane-as-me car nut friend) has his shower I surf the web for some meteorological updates: trace amounts of rain in Portugal and Spain, and serious amounts of rain for France that shall continue all the way through the rest of our days on the road.
Perfect! Just perfect! And I have the wrong set of tires mounted on the rear….
One last post on the blog to let the world know we’re off, and we go to the garage to puzzle mount the bags into the boot.
10 minutes later, the garage door opens up and the engine revs a bit higher for the car to start moving (it had been reverberating through the entire building for the past 15 minutes while we loaded up the car with our bags, and bottles of water, and cameras, and, well, us!).
When we get to the top of the ramp, it is no longer raining but the road's damp.
No matter, I wasn’t going to speed at 5:45 in the morning, in my neighborhood, when I admittedly have the noisiest car around.
I have to confess that I was nervous and anxious, and shaking inside with anticipation of what we were about to do, but when I saw the first light creeping from the clouds in front of me, the ocean in my rear view mirror, and the road getting dryer by the meter (or mile) I just wanted to step on the gas and devour those 1400 kms as if they were pasta on a italian's plate.
I had filled up the tank on the night before, which was also Fred’s first time in the car.
I enjoyed his F§£@ has the Turbo pushed us towards the horizon :)
I keep forgetting I have a junior supercar with acceleration and cornering speed to match.
That was the beginning of a beautiful relationship that would be constant through the entire trip, and that, for me at least, would make it the more enjoyable and bearable especially on those very tiring moments when things happen to go wrong.
Great guy Fred, but I’ll get to him later.
So now we were getting to the Portuguese mountains, not in a funny, adrenalin filled manner, but in a highway, getting the most out of every mille manner.
There were a lot of cars with French license plates on the road which we correctly assumed to be immigrants returning to France after a long weekend in their native country.
Portugal draws people back, it’s that good! Trust me! (ok, so maybe I’m biased…. But it IS beautiful!)
I made a few videos and we took loads of pictures, the sun rising in front of us, and the Ocean getting further and further away and bellow us.


It’s poetic in a sense that you feel you’re actually leaving something! Not just travelling….
I have a ritual since the very first time I crossed the Portuguese border (I was 21 and went for a 3 weeks trip to Italy! I cherish it to this day! Thanks mum and dad for letting me do it!) : I stop the car, step out, take a picture on either side, and drive away happy.
This time I stopped only on the Spanish side of the border, as due to the early time in Portugal it was still a nonsense to do so, has everything was closed and everyone should be sleeping – at least according to the total absence of people and movement on the streets other then the passing traffic.
We took about one and a half hours to get to the border, and the really strenuous part was about to start.
One good thing to state was that the rain had been a constant threat but never actually happening.
Grey clouds following us, but the liquid droplets never hitting the ground or the car.
Again on the road and through Spain’s amazingly good “Carreteras” we continued at a very good pace (around 140km/h average speed, but never really exceeding that by much has speeding tickets were a very big no-no for the both of us).


The Spanish landscape is a very beautiful one, with vast prairies and cute villages appearing every once in a while.
You see several shades of green and red, and orange and yellow, plus the now-grey, now-blue of the sky above.
When we were passing Valladollid the suspicion was high upon us that maybe I had misjudge the car’s fuel consumptions a bit….
You see I had calculated the car, fully loaded, plus two inside, would do about 11liters per 100 kms.
But what we had been witnessing was very far from it.
Since I was keeping a log of all fuel fill ups, we were able to do the math on the next one.
Sure enough it came as a shock: around 8liters per 100km. EIGHT liters!
In a high performance, turbocharged, petrol burning dream machine.
I can’t say for sure, but I think I kissed the steering wheel.
Can’t say for sure…. :$
Another surprise for me happened when we entered the Bask country has I had never been there and never even imagined that it could be so beautiful.
The roads where tortuous mountain ones, and it only made me wish it was a couple of hours earlier and that all speed cameras were off.
I kept looking out the window to the beautiful forests and crests that accompanied us.
About that, around this time something funny happened: we got a “road-friend”.
A french registered Ranault Laguna was heading the same way and inside were Portuguese immigrants that cheered and waved at another countrymen.
He obviously knew these roads a whole lot better than me (first timer) so I followed him (except inside tunnels where I had to overtake everyone else to enjoy the sound of my exhaust singing it’s beautiful enchanting song to the world and making it echo through the circular amplifier :) and when he pushed his speed above the 180km/h threshold – I just didn’t trust his knowledge of radars that much).
We met at a toll and got side by side.
He was heading to Orleans, hometown of a beautiful friend of fine, and this reminded me to text her and let her know I would be close so that maybe we could meet.
I told them we were heading to Le Mans, and if you can see a person’s thoughts through their smiles, those two were thinking that we were just another bunch of racing loonies in their annual pilgrimage to that cathedral of auto sport – which we probably are, it’s just that our pilgrimage was going to be a bit longer than “just” Le Mans….
We actually stopped at the same gas station further ahead when we had already lost sight of each other, but as I let my car cool down a bit before turning it off (you always should in a turbocharged car) they caught up with us.
The gentleman was really nice and warned us about the French being paranoid about speeding and that we should by no means disrespect the speeding limits.
If only I had remembered this on the drive back….
Fred had noticed we were going to pass Biarritz and none of us had ever been there, so I asked our new found friend what he thought of it to which he replied that it was very beautiful and worth a visit.
We made a little detour and continued for that famous tourist and jet-set destination only to be positively surprised with the attention our little car was getting.
At one point a gentleman in a bright red Ferrari 355 Spider (I drove the GTB model when I was younger and it still rates on top of recollections from my youth) stared at us and pointed as we passed by, and when we stopped to take some pictures by the sea people walked across to the car and peeked inside to check it out.
WOW!
I was proud and amazed at the same time.
My little silver car was turning some heads.
We still had many miles to go before Le Mans so we took off from Biarritz after just a quick stop for pics and some leg-stretching.


The heat was immense by now, and for sure it was over 30degrees outside and I pale on the thought of how many would be inside the car.
Windows rolled down and vents opened we stoically proceeded our drive, but only after a refueling… of our stomachs.
I was feeling the tiredness taking over me by now so I reluctantly handed the car over to Fred.
This was his first time driving the car, and his first time driving anything close to a high performance vehicle, so yes I was pretty apprehensive.
But this was Fred and the guy as always been responsible and mature in everything he does and in his relationship with me (and with everyone else as far as I can see), and he proved it by being extra alert to moving traffic, to his driving, to the car’s quirks…. Everything.
I got relaxed right away.
Sun shades on, eyes lightly closed, and wind embracing my face.
Ah, the feeling of being low in a car that can out accelerate at least 95% of everything else you see on the road, and being safe in it.
Marvelous.
There was another funny moment when a couple of French girls in a VW Golf flirted with us has they pass by.
Cute and thoughtful, they passed us and braked every time they knew there was a radar ahead.
We waved and thanked as we overtook them next (well, I did that, Fred was too busy concentrating on the driving and thinking about his girlfriend back home) and they waved back and kept passing us to warn us of radars.
Another funny moment was about to take place when we slowed for a toll and saw an old Renault 4L with a Portuguese license plate.


The guy saw that we were Portuguese as well and honked the horn and waved, we waved back and kept giving us the thumbs up.
Nice!
By the looks of his car, it seemed he was doing a solitary drive around Europe.
In a 4L! Brave man!
A few hours late it first happeared, in blue surroundings and white paint: Le Mans!
All the green that you see on the way there doesn’t prepare you to what you’re about to see, and we had a BIG surprise in stored.
It’s worth noting that Fred had been in Le Mans last year as a guest to one of the teams that were racing in the 24heures race – the lucky bastard!! So he knew his way around a bit.
But for me, OH MY GOD!
We had stopped at a close by gas station and I was driving the car again.
I knew it was Le Mans, but still, when I saw a road sign saying: Mulsanne….
I mean, it’s the stuff of dreams!!!!


I quickly turned in the pointed direction and there it was: the famous straight!
Speeding through it, recording it on video for posterity and just enjoying the sights, sounds, aromas, after a tiring day behind the wheel…


It was memorable, and I don’t think I’ll ever forget it…
We did a couple of runs, and took some pics, then headed to the hotel.
People on the streets were cheering and waving, men giving us the thumbs up, and everyone generally appreciating the car.
Great feeling, but we were about to feel the same, because as we entered the hotel’s parking lot we saw a pearl white Lotus Exige 260Cup standing in front.
Not to be outdone by a “lesser” car, I parked mine next to it, took out the bags, and headed for the room.
I soooooo needed a shower…
While I was bathing it occurred to me: I was in Le Mans. LE MANS!
I had seen the movie, of course, and read all the Michael Vaillant stories about it, and seen that movie as well, and devoured every magazine that talked about it, but now, this time, ME, I, MYSELF, I was here.
In Le Mans!
Some people go to the beach during their holydays, I came to Le Mans! :) Great choice!
We got out to diner in the city, and after a strengthening meal we got back to the hotel with our eyes half-closed already out of tiredness.
But again, they popped open in a millisecond has now, not only was the white Exige 260Cup there, but ANOTHER yellow on green EXIGE Cup 260 and a red Elise S1 was also there.
What was this? A Lotus giveaway?


I hopped into bed dizzy and drained but with a smile that could light up the dark side of the moon.
And not just our moon, but all of Jupiter’s as well….

terça-feira, 26 de maio de 2009

Goal Fulfilled!
















The Journey to the 'Ring is over.
All is achieved!
I can't quite describe what I'm feeling right now but humbleness springs to mind more than anything else.

I'll take some time to put it all to paper when we get back home.
For now let me just thank all the WONDERFUL people we've met during our trip, and the those of you who emailed and checked out the website.

Thanks!

M.

domingo, 24 de maio de 2009

First thing's first!

So let's start from the beginning:


Check it here: departure video!

Hope you like it!

Le Mans!
















I’m beated and broken!
It’s been a long long day, and I just want a shower and get some sleep, but some words in advance to you all: WOW!
If you’re a petrol head you MUST, absolutely MUST come to Le Mans!
This is the Meca of autosport!

More tomorrow and some videos as soon as I get some rest :)

sexta-feira, 22 de maio de 2009

And... we're off!





















5:22 in the morning.
A few drops of rain fell just moments ago, so the road is wet....
Extra careful then!

Let's go!

quinta-feira, 21 de maio de 2009

The Porsche backs down














So now for the next cataclysm:

1st of May, 2009, 20 days before the estimated date of departure.
My cell phone rings.
On the screen flashing is the name of the other rider, the Cayman S owner who, for a year now has been my mate and right arm in the battle of tarmac.
What did he want?
Well, for “undisclosed reasons” he couldn’t make the trip.
WHAT???
NOT MAKE THE TRIP?
His this guy kidding me?
And what the hell does he mean with undisclosed reasons?
Here’s a guy that told me all about his personal life, his fears, his achievements, his failures, and now all of a sudden he gives me this crap about not being able to tell me about why he's not going to the trip he had envisioned?
I was exhausted have pulled an all-nighter so I just told him that I wasn’t counting on him bailing out, especially when we were a mere 20 days from going.
I hung up the phone and it all came racing back in my head:
- He was the one who suggested we should take our motoring endeavors a step further and do a trip to the NurburgRing.
- He was the one that got all excited about doing a 5000+ km journey with his precious Porsche
- He is still the one that collects all the magazines and DVDs talking about great driving roads and the like
- And he was the one that draw the map with the itinerary

How sick is that??
20 days from leaving??
And what reasons did he present?
None!
None what so ever!
He told me that he hadn’t figured in the physical exhaustion and strain that such a long journey would pose on him.
What?
He was the guy that decided where we should go, where we should sleep and rest in the first place!
And we’re not talking about any 60 year old gentleman driver here, but of a (at least visually) fit 38 year old man!

So the trip is off then?
Well…. Not quite!
Next day I was in my car, waiting my turn in the gas station, insulting him with every slang word known to men, and then some, when I remembered a friend of mine, car crazy such as me, who might be interested.
Simple phone call:
“Are you up for a car ride to the NurburgRing as my co-pilot?”
“Hell yeah! When do we leave?”
Now that’s my kind of guy!

With one phone call, he who had been dreaming and making plans for a year about this trip lets me down and draws back, and with another phone call, a true motoring aficionado jumps at the chance of joining me on this most epic of journeys.
Now, I am not going to jump into conclusions about you Porsche owners not having what it takes to risk travelling a few thousand miles to experience the most serious racetrack in the world, or buying a Porsche precisely because you fear failure and risk above all else (heck, that’s why most 911s are sold anyway, right?), but it’s funny that me, and others like me, are willing to take the chance of such a strenuous trip with so much more prone-to-failure machines, and you guys aren’t….

Come on, prove me wrong and be there Tuesday, the 26st of May at the Green Hell!

Monaco G.P.













So where were we?
Ah yes, Monaco.
On one of my trips to London I met this really nice gentleman, who told me he worked for Ferrari F1 somewhere on the outskirts of London.
He showed me his credentials and everything and was a lot of laughs telling stories and jokes of stuff that happened within the F1 team.
He then told me and my colleagues if there was anything he could do for us to which I immediately answered: Can you get me tickets to Monaco? :)
He laughed and said that yes he could, he could get 4 tickets.
Now that’s manna from heaven!
A few weeks later I was in London and he stopped by my hotel with a bag filled with Ferrari merchandise such as T-shirts, Polos, flags and the like.
Amazing stuff for a tiffosi like me and the tickets were taken care of, he assured.
We kept talking occasionally and one day he tells me that instead of 4 he could only get me two tickets.
Ok….
Two is exactly the number of people who are taking cars, the other two are colleagues of mine who were flying over to Nice to see the GP with us.
Ok, get me those two tickets and I’ll still be a happy man.
"No problem. I'll send them over to you next week."
Next week came and went and no tickets arrived.
I call him, and he politely apologizes for not having sent them yet but he’ll do it this very day.
No tickets arrived.
Then, a month from the 23rd of May (around 20th of April) I start calling him and he never answers.
I send a few texts and he doesn’t reply.
I call again and again to no extent.
I talk to my friend and we decide it’s best to forget about Monaco since there’s no certainty about the tickets.
Reluctantly and sadly we admit it’s the right thing to do.
The Monaco G.P. has been the culprit of Formula 1 racing for me since I was a little boy, and it would be a dream come true to watch live, and (as I was promised) visit the Ferrari Paddock on Saturday.
It’s still not going to be this year though.
I haven’t heard from the Ferrari gentleman since….

quarta-feira, 20 de maio de 2009

first post

So that’s it then!
It’s settled.
After almost a year of planning, dreaming, studying and thinking about every little detail and whatnot I’ve finally made it to the week before the journey.
It’s not been a pleasant few months mind.
For starters, the original trip was going past Monaco where we were supposed to attend the Monaco Grand Prix of Formula 1.
But then, when everything was set and assured, and the tickets had been promised a full two months in advance, the person responsible for them suddenly disappears of the face of the Earth.
No phone calls, no emails, no texts.
Nothing.
We (I) couldn’t get a hold of him.

This is just one of the things that started going wrong but the worst was still to come.

Check in later to read more on the Monaco GP and the rest of the preparations for the journey.

Cheers, M.

domingo, 3 de maio de 2009