I’m pretty sure I can fit Flavia (our 1971 Fiat 500L) in the back of a Transit van. While this might not be the usual inspiring call to arms for an epic road trip, it was the start of another memorable Refuel adventure, this time to Le Mans Classic.
With Buck too ‘Merican-sized to fit on our stand, Flavia needs to get there and get there fast, which is not something that’s in her DNA. So, armed with two ramps (which were a bit short, making for a loading angle that would make Evel Knievel wince) and a helpful, if mildly terrified, eldest son positioned inside said Transit van, and a rather large dose of… “Oh, just send it, what’s the worst that can happen?” I approach with commitment. Somehow, we manage to squeeze Flavia between the two-wheel arches (1.5cm each side) and not crush my no.1 son… she’s onboard, wedged in place and we’re ready for adventure.
Customs at Le Shuttle inevitably pulled us over, and when my answer to “what I have in the back of the truck” was “a car”, they thought I was taking the piss… Doors opened, cover sheet raised to reveal her tiny bumper and number plate, we see other, now amused customs officers, called over to point and laugh. Having apologised that she was Italian and promising next time to have a Renault on board, we were waved off with much smiling about the silly “Anglais”.
At the Refuel, we’re not about who has the most expensive, shiniest car; we aren’t matching numbers, original paint people… if you love it, we love it, and the next 360 miles proved once again for us, the joy of a road trip isn’t driven by the car itself, but the company you keep. And boy, is a Ford Transit LWB an excellent thing. While the flat screen proved slightly harrowing for the French bug population, the miles, conversation and connection flow, with Flavia merrily making the turn into every roundabout more entertaining, shifting on her suspension just after the transit had settled.
Arrival back at Le Mans is always a joy and with the confetti from the 24 Hour race celebrations still blowing across the Motul chicane, the realisation dawns that Flavia needs to get off and onto her stage position, this time the feat to be witnessed by the assembled crowd of other exhibitors… again, commitment and blind faith prevailed and Flavia and I spent a lovely 15 minutes driving around the paddock, as a feast of serious competitors unloaded around us.
There’s a unique energy at Le Mans Classic, part race meeting, part festival, part unashamed celebration of the joie de vivre that allows this event to take place with all its eccentricities. From the display of historic Tour De France promotional cars (including two Renault 5s conjoined by their roofs), and a colourful collection of Dakar cars, to a Cadillac driving around with a brass band in it… It’s utterly, utterly infectious… and unlike anything else.
The Classic gave The Refuel more time to speak to more of you exceptional humans, all aligned with our approach to turning driving into an unstoppable force for good. One conversation will remain with me - I got into cars because of my dad, who was a test driver, then raced… and I had heard rumours that one of his old mates was at the Classic having driven down in his rowdy Camaro that he had just lovingly restored. On a damp Sunday morning, he came and found us, fresh from a “lovely night’s sleep” in a one-man tent in Houx campsite. We sat for an hour and a half, just talking, catching up, telling old tales (I hadn’t seen him for over two decades), and it was true Refuel joy.
A conversation, a check in, shoulder to shoulder, effortless, funny and unforgettable. The highlight of my Le Mans classic with someone we should all aim to emulate… recently retired he’s having the time of his life and still addicted to driving – driving for the joy of it, on a road, on a racetrack or just shoulder to shoulder with the people he cares about, checking in and making memories one mile at
a time. Legend.
