Category: Nürburgring

Do You Wanna Be a Snowman?

The heating is broken. Or at least, I’m pretty sure that it is. I turned it wide open three days ago and even though the outside temperature hasn’t risen above ten degrees Celsius since then, the radiator continues to feel stone cold to the touch. I’ve put my ear against it (FREEZING!) and I can hear the water running through, so that’s not the problem. I’ve also checked the central heater in the attic, but that’s burning away quite happily at eighteen degrees. So that’s not the problem either. Still, despite the hidden cause, the heating has every appearance of *somehow* being broken.

Once it dawned on me that something was wrong, I alerted my father. He seemed rather sceptical about my suspicions. In his opinion, it’s probably not cold enough yet for the heating to start doing its work. I pointed out to him that his own central heating is working fine, even though where he lives the weather is exactly the same as where I live. I was quite proud of that argument, but it had little effect on him. All I got was a vague promise he’d take a look at it later this week if the problems continued.

So here I am, sitting behind my computer, wearing the thickest vest I own and wrapped in a thick blanket. Even though some people will undoubtedly say the current eight degrees aren’t cold enough to warrant such attire, I disagree. Eight degrees is freezing cold, especially when you’re forced to spend several hours sitting on a chair behind your desk. The lack of movement quite easily makes eight degrees feel like one. Or maybe even minus one. And that’s not nearly enough to make me a happy bunny.

Still, annoying as this ordeal is, it’s good training for the final race I’ll be attending this season: VLN10. Or, that is to say, that I hope to be attending. I’ve planned to go various times before, but it has always been made impossible by coldness. Not the kind of coldness a broken house heating brings, but the kind of coldness caused by the onset of German Eifel winter. The first time I planned to go, I had to stay home because VLN10 was cancelled due to snow fall. The second time I wanted to go, winter arrived so early that even attending VLN9 was impossible. It was so cold that I had to go home an hour before the finish with a stinging headache, which by midnight had developed into a case of sinusitis that would keep me in bed for a week. When temperatures dropped even lower for VLN10, I was again forced to skip it.

This year I’m trying again, though, in the hope that the third attempt will be lucky. So far the weather forecasts look fairly okay. There will be some rain in the early morning, but the showers should seize somewhere around 8AM. If there’s not too much fog, qualifying might even get underway at 8.30AM without much delay. Temperatures are predicted to be around 9-10 degrees. That may not be very warm, but we had the same temperatures during VLN9 two weeks ago and if you were dressed properly, it was quite doable.

But the biggest risk factor at the moment is snow. When I was at VLN9, a local man warned me that “it is coming. I’ll give it three more weeks at most, but you can feel it in the air. It’s turning chilly. That’s never a good sign.” So right now I’m keeping all my fingers crossed that the suspected snow won’t come just yet. It’d be a shame to have to miss the race again. However, if the snow must come and ruin VLN10, I hope it’ll come before Saturday. As I sit here, freezing despite being wrapped in a thick blanket, I can’t think of anything worse than being at the Nürburgring when the first snowflakes start coming down. You see, despite the fact I’m freezing, I’m not like the characters from Frozen. I do NOT want to build a snowman and I most definitely don’t want to become one either.

We Could Be Heroes

“When I was young, I wanted to become a doctor.”
“I wanted to become a teacher, just like my dad. That never happened though, haha!”
“You’re all so practical. I wanted to become a superhero. Pretty much like Superman.”
“Haha! Did you want to save people?”
“Nah. I just wanted a big red cape. It looked pretty cool on TV.”
“You’re weird… If I were to become a superhero, all I’d be interested in would be having some really cool superhero powers.”
“Such as?”
“As a child, I always wished I could fly.”
“I always really, really, really wanted to be able to do magic.”
“It was all about invisibility for me!”
“It’s funny, isn’t it? Children always want magical superpowers and when you grow up that just… disappears. Kind of.”
“Not for me. Not really. It just changed a bit. I still wish I had superpowers, even today. But now I wish I had the superpower of finishing all my paperwork on time, way before five o’clock, every single workday of the week. Then I’d never have to take it home with me ever again.”
“I’d never thought of that! That’d be cool. I would like to have that superpower too.”
“I know an even better one. I’d like to have a superpower that allows me to convince my boss to give me as many vacation days as I want. I’d only work one week a year. Maybe even less!”
“And we also need the superpower of making annoying colleagues disappear!”
“And the superpower of always maintaining enough air in the office for everyone to breathe, even on hot days! That’d be so awesome.”
“AND the superpower to take care of the garden in literally the blink of an eye. Just one blink and PRESTO. All done! Imagine all the extra free time we’ll get.”
“Haha! Can we also have a superpower that allows you to clean cars that way? My wife always make me do that on Sunday and I hate it. If I only had to blink once to clean it, I’d never have to get up again at seven. I’d be able to sleep in!”

*everybody looks at me*

“And what superpower would make your life easier?”
“Ehm… a superpower that allows me to look at a picture of the Nordschleife and instantly know what corner I’m looking at?”

In at the Deep End (with Ben Barnicoat)

I love GT racing to the point where I’ll get up for it in the middle of the night if necessary. Unfortunately, some of my friends struggle to share my enthusiasm. They prefer to stick to what they know; aka single-seaters. I’ve tried to win them over by bombarding them with GT fun facts, but the results of that method have been mixed. So last weekend, while attending the Blancpain Endurance Cup at the Nürburgring, I decided to try something new. The event didn’t just mark the end of the Blancpain Endurance season, it was also the GT debut of Formula 3 ace Ben Barnicoat. Barnicoat was confirmed for Blancpain Nürburgring only 40 hours before the start of the event and barely 24 hours after his first-ever GT test (yikes!), which makes him as new to GT racing as my sceptical friends. If my friends won’t take my word for it that GT racing is cool, then maybe they’ll take that of a single-seater racer who’s crossing over. Guys, this one’s for you!

Out of nowhere WRT announced you’d be driving the Blancpain Endurance final in their number 4 car, alongside Pierre Kaffer and Adrien de Leener. Can you explain how that deal came about? Because I never saw it coming!
“To be honest, I don’t know how it happened either! I just kind of found myself here… On Tuesday the 6th of September I got a phone call from the Racing Steps Foundation. They told me WRT wanted me to test with them in Barcelona, on Wednesday the 14th. I was really excited to get that opportunity, only I’d never driven a GT car before. The test was my first time driving the car and I tried to learn everything I could. I did a qualifying and a race simulation, which went well. At the end of the day the gap to regular WRT-driver Robin Frijns was only about three tenths. I was very happy with that!”

And then they told you the drive was yours?
“No. I thought it was just a test. I had no idea there was any chance of a racing drive, so I just went back to the airport to catch my flight home. At ten o’clock that night, when I was still at the airport, I got another call from the Racing Steps Foundation. They said “okay, you’re going to the Nürburgring this weekend to race Blancpain Endurance on the 17th and 18th”, and I was like “Oh wow… OKAY!!”

You’re new to GT racing. What has the experience been like so far?
“It’s been a really big eye-opener. From the first I was happy about getting this opportunity, but I didn’t realise until I started my preparations how high the level of the Blancpain series is. Obviously I knew it was a strong series from back when I was racing NEC Formula Renault [=a Blancpain support series] in 2014, but I never realised just how much the manufacturers were involved and to what extent they’re pushing the cars.”

And was that the only surprise?
“Everything’s new for me, so there’ve been many surprises. The car, for example, is much harder to drive than I expected. I thought it’d be a little easier than a single-seater, but if anything I’m finding it harder at the moment. I’m also impressed with the high quality of the drivers. Take Robin Frijns. From what he’s done in his single-seater career I knew he was a good driver, but being his teammate and seeing his data… he’s just really, really good! This weekend I’m going to try and learn as much from him as I can. And then there’s the traffic. In single-seaters, if you want to finish well, it’s all about where you qualify; but here in GT, it’s all about who can pass the backmarkers the fastest. I’ve noticed that the bronze drivers, and some of the silver drivers too, don’t always move out of the way straight away, so for a GT newcomer like myself that’s tricky.”

How is the transition going from having your own car to sharing one with two teammates?
“Pierre’s an experienced driver and he’s helping me a lot this weekend. Adrien’s also very kind. It’s nice to be in a car with two such nice people. At first I thought they might be worried because this is my first GT race, but so far I’m showing strong pace and they’re happy with the job I’m doing. So no problems there. But you know, I’ve yet to do a GT-pitstop with a driver change. That’s going to be a challenge.”

As long as you don’t climb out of the car and fall flat on your face, I think you’ll be fine.
“A lot of the guys told me that that was what they expected me to do during my first practice, but luckily it wasn’t that bad. There’s room for improvement, but I always pull it off quickly enough. At any rate, I’m planned to do the last stint of the race so I’ll only have to climb in!”

I have some GT-sceptic friends. Is there anything you’d like to say to them?
“After driving the Audi GT3, I’d say they should definitely give GT racing a chance. As an F3 driver I can say it really isn’t any easier than single-seaters. Also, GT drivers are just as talented as single-seater drivers. Again, Frijns is the perfect example. He probably should’ve been an F1 driver, but in this field he didn’t even qualify in the top two. It just shows how strong the drivers and the teams are. Come Sunday there’ll be some very good battles. It’s well worth watching – and supporting.”

Barnicoat and his teammates had a strong start to their Blancpain Endurance race, but ultimately finished in 29th place after suffering a puncture. If you want to see their race, click here.

Looks Can Be Deceiving

Last GT Masters weekend, there was some commotion about how long it took for the marshalls to pull away the #3 Bonaldi car after it had been punted off the Nürburgring by the Bentley #8. When I got home from watching the race live at the track, I found the residue of the hubbub in my timeline. Some people claimed the marshalls had been “incompetent”, “moronic”, and even “lazy”.

I didn’t understand where these comments came from until I saw the TV footage of the race. In it, you first see a brief shot of the marshalls pulling the stranded Bonaldi towards the barriers. The footage then cuts back to the remaining race cars cruising behind the safety car. Some minutes later, the director again shows a brief shot of the stranded Bonaldi. It hasn’t moved one bit and everything around the car looks quiet. Cue online outrage and verbal abuse by fans who would dearly like to see the race continue.

But you know, TV footage – especially when cut into brief shots – can be deceiving.

As I said before, I was at the Nürburgring to watch the GT Masters event live and during race 1 I happened to be sitting on a grandstand near the corner where the Bonaldi went off. This gave me an excellent view of the “incompetent”, “moronic”, and “lazy” marshalls in action.

I’m not entirely sure what the damage to the Lamborghini was after the crash, but from where I was sitting it looked like the right front suspension had broken. The car was hanging crookedly at an awkward angle, at any rate. The marshalls quickly approached the car, checked if the driver was okay (physically he was fine, in terms of mood; not so much) and went to work on the Lambo. They called out a tractor and attached a pulling line to the rear of the car. Very slowly they started pulling it towards the barriers. The slow speed was deliberate, because the odd angle at which the car was hanging meant that the right front tended to dig itself into the gravel.

Just before reaching the safety of the barriers, where the gravel made way for asphalt, the front dug itself in so deeply that the Lamborghini landed flat on its stomach. The marshalls tried, but it was impossible to continue pulling the car backwards without seriously damaging it. This must’ve been the moment when the first brief shot appeared on TV.

The marshalls tried to dig the Lamborghini out, but it was impossible. They then tried to push it forwards again, back into the gravel pit and up the gulley the front had dug, but this couldn’t be done with just 3-4 people. Some other marshalls saw the trouble and instantly came running. All together, they managed to free the car. While all this was happening, yet another marshall was shouting into a radio. It looked like he was trying to call for a crane, but it apparently couldn’t get there on time. (It didn’t arrive until 15 minutes later.)

Suddenly one of the marshalls had an idea. He told the tractor to drive into the gravel pit and park itself literally against the rear end of the Lamborghini. The marshall then took the pulling line and wrapped it so tightly and ingeniously around the rear of the Bonaldi and the front of the tractor that the trolley could pull the car upwards before driving backwards – making it impossible for the Lambo to dig itself in again. While the marshalls were doing this, hidden largely from view of the cameras, the second brief shot aired. Barely a minute later, the car had been pulled safely behind the barriers.

Now, I know that I’m not the number one all-out expert on marshalling practices, but I wouldn’t call this performance “incompetent”. I wouldn’t call it “lazy” either. Personally, I would call it “inventive” and “much better than anything I could’ve come up with that quickly”.

Got a Light?

I’m loquacious.

‘Loquacious’ isn’t exactly a word I use a lot. In fact, up until five minutes ago I didn’t even know it existed. I only stumbled across it in my dictionary when I decided to look up a nicer-sounding way to say that I talk a lot (possibly even too much) and if forced you’d be hard pushed to shut me up.

So again, I’m loquacious.

Ask anyone that knows me well, or even just a little. I may seem a bit on my guard when I first meet you, but once I’ve gotten used to you a bit the stream of words starts flowing. Fast. However, even I must admit that words, though my preferred way to communicate, aren’t always the best way to bring a message across. I realised that once again during the Blancpain GT-weekend at the Nürburgring two weeks ago. In between the races there was a demo by a customized truck that instantly made me think “I need to blog about this!” Unfortunately, though, with only a description in words, the demo lost all its power on paper. So I decided to convince my father, who was there too, to give me some of the pictures he took with his fancy camera – compared to his photos, my iPhone snaps are honestly worthless. I think they’ll bring the story to life much better than anything I can say. (Although I’m still going to add some worded by-lines. Ha.)

Once upon a time there was a truck, that looked surprisingly
like Jeremy ‘Powerrrr’ Clarkson had installed a huge engine
on the back of it.

 

I wonder what the purpose of that smoke is?

 

WOOOOOOOWWWW.
I definitely don’t what the purpose of that is.
But wow.

The Writing

There’s an old saying that says you should always look at the writing on the wall, because that’s where you’ll find what you truly need to know. During my most recent Nordschleife visit, to attend the third VLN-race of 2016, I learned that the wall isn’t the only place where you should look for interesting writing. The race track is another one.

Anyone who has ever visited the Nordschleife knows that it’s a bit different from other race tracks. Where modern circuits boast about how smooth and clean their asphalt is, the asphalt at the Nordschleife is covered in, well… basically anything and everything, really. The complete length of the track is covered in graffiti, mostly done in white spray-paint, but black, yellow, and red are popular colours too. I think I once read somewhere that initially the Nordschleife owners had the asphalt cleaned every time a new message appeared, but when the graffiti just kept coming and coming they eventually gave up and let the writings be.

Over the past few decades, anonymous people have covered the Nordschleife in a diverse array of messages. Some stick to egocentric phrases (“X was here”), while others praise their home town (“city Y is the best”) or showcase their business data (“Check Youtube @ZZZZZZ”); while again others use the opportunity to put their artistic talents for drawing boobs and genitals on display. Most messengers will leave their words on the track itself, but over the years catch fences and curbstones have also become popular writing surfaces.

When I’m trackside, I rarely pay attention to the writings. I quickly got used to them and came to accept them as part of the scenery; the background. I think it works that way for most people. It gives you a better chance to focus on the cars and the ongoing races. However, during VLN3 I suddenly found myself distracted by three words, written on the asphalt at the entrance of the Galgenkopf: “Estamos en Nurb”.

The words are Spanish for “We’re at the Nurb”. They’re painted in bright white paint with the exception of the final letter B, which is white-greyish in colour and half faded away. The message caught my eye, because it seemed so unfinished. Surely the messenger had been aiming for “We’re at the Nurburgring”. But if so, why didn’t he finish? Did something happen to distract him? For the first time ever I found myself wondering where the Nordschleife messages come from exactly. Do the messengers climb onto the track at night? Or do they do their work during the day, when they think the Ring is (temporarily) closed to car rides? Is it possible then that this particular author was surprised by the sound of an oncoming car and had to make a dash for safety? Or was he chased away by an official? Or was he perhaps so intoxicated at the time of writing that he forgot how to spell ‘Nurburgring’ and simply figured ‘oh sod all this, I’m going home’?

As with many other things related to the Nordschleife, the message will forever hold an element of mystery. It’s a shame really, because it seems like an interesting tale that I would love to know; but at the same time it’s also okay. The Ring is such a special place, it can handle a little bit of mystique here and there. In fact, it’s probably the better for it. But still, the mind can always wonder.

Opel – Wir Leben Langsam

My parents taught me it’s rude to be late. It’s simply bad manners to leave someone waiting for you. As a consequence I always try to arrive on time, not just when I know that a friend is waiting for me, but also when I have to attend an event, such as a motor race. I’m proud to say that most of the time I do arrive on schedule. Unfortunately, however, I can’t always get to the designated place at the designated time.

Sometimes this is my own fault. For one thing, I tend to get lost. I once spectacularly drove past the main entrance to the Zolder Circuit without seeing it, only to realise that something was off after I’d already steered onto the freeway leading to Antwerp. I’m also guilty of not always getting up on time. I’m well aware that, if I want to be at the Nürburgring when the VLN qualifying start at 8.30h, I must get up at 4.30h and be in the car by 5.30h at the latest. And yet, and yet… doesn’t that snooze button seem appealing, even more so at 4.30h? Aaargh.

But sometimes I’m late through no fault of my own. Sometimes I’m simply late because the universe is playing a game and odd things just seem to mysteriously happen en route. For example, I once missed a part of the GT Masters practice because Circuitpark Zandvoort had forgotten to open the ticket booths. I also once arrived late to the start of an event in Assen because there was a cow standing in the middle of the road, causing a considerable traffic jam. And just last year my arrival to the Nordschleife was delayed because in a tiny Eifel village we caught the tail end of a crocodile. Not a real one, luckily. That would’ve been too much, after the whole cow-thing. No, this was a crocodile of cars. Promotion cars. Opel promotion cars, to be exact.

We didn’t notice anything odd was going on at first. We just turned a corner and found ourselves stuck behind a white Opel Astra. No big deal. It happens. Only then we turned another corner and we saw there was a red Opel Astra in front of the white Opel Astra. Okay. That’s odd, but coincidences happen! But then we turned a somewhat wider corner and caught sight of a blue Opel Astra in front of the red Opel Astra. Eh… huh?!

It wasn’t until we left the village that we got a proper view of the full crocodile. It was twenty Opel Astras long. It was also going very slowly so as not to lose anyone on the narrow Eifel roads and, whenever a gap inevitably fell in the line, the entire front part of the crocodile would halt, wait until the backmarkers had caught up, and then sloooooowly crawl back to its steady pace of 60km/h – on an 80km/h road, thank you very much. We had no choice but to follow the crocodile as patiently as we could, with as little swearing at the existence of Opels as we could possible manage.

By the time we finally made it to the track – a whopping twenty minutes later than planned – myself and everybody else in the car had seen more than enough of Opel Astra for the rest of our hopefully very long lives. So even though it was probably not Opel’s intention when it decided on its promotion campaign; I now know exactly which car I’m NOT going to buy in the future.