Charade - Playing at Home

Charade, we've known each other for 36 years. You were my first laps, in my grandfather's car on the old portion of the track. My grandmother screaming at every curb when I was five, while I laughed my head off. My father telling me how the drop down to Gravenoire scared him in Formula Renault back in the day, but how gorgeous the circuit was.

It's been 36 years of seeing part of this circuit from the balcony of my grandparents' apartment.

Charade, the Circuit Where It All Began

Four years ago now. My father had just turned 60, the same year the circuit celebrated its 60th anniversary. What could be more fitting than a father-son afternoon at the Classic Racing School? A few tentative laps. Then a real letting go. Finally, pure joy and stars in our eyes. That's the memory that sticks with me.

I couldn't help passing everyone, with Pierre Sancinena's blessing because he "trusted my abilities." I was definitely flattered, even if I knew full well I wasn't the best driver on earth.

You know what happened next. A newsletter, organizing the Michel Vaillant x Yema shootout with the Vaillante Academy. Then the holy grail: the full season.

Finding My Feet

The shootout prize, besides the full season, included two coaching days. Early summer we had an idea: why not take advantage of a school day at the Classic Racing School? I could drive at Charade and train directly on a track from the calendar.

That's exactly what we did-a week before the event.

Still, getting your bearings isn't easy. I had to drive the school cars.

They're different because, of course, they're nearly new compared to the veterans running the 2022 Historic Tour.

Different too because they run on school tires-much harder rubber that works less effectively and therefore offers less grip.

Even so, about thirty laps on a track this difficult is still a decent haul.

The Lotus 69, the Ultimate Weapon

Thanks to Theo's incredible efforts, the Lotus was ready for the event. That's pure gold, because its wider track widths give it far better cornering grip. And with that, precious tenths every lap.

The downside is we had to break in the engine. So we sacrificed the three practice sessions to make sure it would be healthy. That meant less flat-out running than expected. Believe me: even though I'd been logging plenty of laps, completing one around Charade is one thing. Doing it at a strong pace is quite another.

A Green Monaco

Honestly, I don't have a better way to describe it. You're in the middle of nature, yet there are walls on either side of the track.

The driver briefing sets the tone: "We're not going to warn you about track limits. The walls will do that for us." Gulp... that's the vibe.

An average gradient of 9%. Not a single flat spot anywhere. Most of the corners are banked or off-camber.

Put it all together and it's a very technical circuit.

Usually, that doesn't bother me. Val-de-Vienne could have proved it, if not for the mechanical gremlins.

But here... the walls change everything. In three sections of the track, two Classic coaches and another team driver kept insisting: "Flat out, it's flat out!" Yeah... thanks, but no thanks. I don't have enough laps under my belt to flirt with a sliding car 20 cm from a concrete wall at 150 km/h.

Even so, I qualified third in what was essentially the first real session of Friday. Just two tenths off Michel Dupont. Four full seconds behind the stratospheric Eric Lecluse.

It wasn't for lack of starting the session alongside him. He was simply impossible to follow. Even on the first lap, which is normally just for warming up tires and brakes.

Rain or Not?

Uncertainty reigned before race one. The forecast had been calling for rain for a week. The day before brought a nice surprise: sunshine. But what about today?

I'll admit, the idea of driving here in a downpour didn't thrill me. I enjoy it in karting, but I also know-after racing against Belgian teams so often-that beating them fair and square in those conditions is tough.

Personally, I have no idea what I'm like in the wet in a Formula Ford. And frankly, I don't want to find out I'm terrible with walls everywhere.

Yet by the time the race started, it hadn't rained for two hours. The track was dry, the weather was good. But a dark cloud loomed on the horizon.

I told myself it would be fine. I'd have a chance if conditions changed. Still, it would be risky.

Pre-Grid

While we staged the cars in pre-grid, waiting for another group to finish so we could get on track, I saw Eric Lecluse several spots ahead waving his arms. People came over to check the rear of his car. Was something wrong? No way to know.

We headed out for the warm-up lap.

As Malivai explained to me at Val-de-Vienne, I worked the tires hard. A good start was essential.

Final corner before the grid. I slot first gear and make sure it's engaged.

The grid slopes downhill, so you have to hold the brake with your right foot while balancing the clutch and giving it some revs.

The lights come on.

Then go out.

You Know Murphy's Law?

"If anything can go wrong, it will."

During practice I discovered you can upshift without using the clutch.

Handy.

It saves a few hundredths-maybe even tenths-each lap during that repetitive action. Better yet, coming out of a corner you can keep your left foot planted on the footrest, which steadies your body when you get back on the throttle. That gives you more finesse at the wheel.

At the start, that's exactly what I chose to do.

Naturally, even though I'd practiced it in every session the day before, that's when the gearbox decided to deny me second. I had to coast for nearly 20 meters before giving up and dipping the clutch to grab the gear.

I lose five spots before Turn 1.

Great. Off to a flying start.

Still, I immediately rip off laps matching my qualifying times, so clawing back my position isn't too hard.

Little by little, I reel in Michel Dupont until I'm on his gearbox.

I know I'm running third now. Michel is second, and Eric is probably leading way up the road.

I also know there's no catching Eric given his times the day before. No point even trying.

But being clearly faster, I can't resist passing Michel instead of just waiting behind.

He takes the spot back almost immediately.

So I decide to play one of our signature psychological games. The idea is to wear him down.

I don't have enough straight-line speed to pass him for good, and if I sit behind, I risk settling into a false rhythm and missing my shot at the end.

Every lap I pass him, every lap I let him retake the spot wherever he chooses. We're often wheel to wheel, but I notice I'm much faster in certain corners, so I meticulously plan my attack for the final lap-where to make the move, how to defend, and so on.

Suddenly, halfway down the straight as I'm about to pass him again, the power cuts out. Nothing in third... what's going on?

Nothing in second, nothing in fourth. Damn it-no engine at all!

I pop it into neutral, disgusted and frustrated, and coast down the straight. I'm already wondering how much the repairs will cost. I look around for an escape road near the marshals. There isn't one on the straight, and I don't see any at Petit Pont either.

Then, as I turn the wheel, I notice something: the ignition switch is on "OFF." I get it-I accidentally shut the engine down when moving my hand from the gear lever back to the wheel. I flick it on. Everything seems fine again.

I scream inside my helmet as I climb toward Marlboro, then calm down through Thedes as a light drizzle starts to fall.

On the pit straight the car feels unstable. I tell myself the rain has intensified slightly-judging by the droplets on my visor. I decide to keep going but back it down a notch. Maybe one of my rivals will spin and I can still grab a podium.

Next lap, the car slides everywhere. Even on the straight, it won't hold a line.

Weird.

I cross the start-finish again and practically drift through Turn 1 on all four wheels. Yet the raindrops don't seem to be building on my visor.

Second corner: the oil pressure light flickers for a split second. No way I'm repeating the Dijon mistake. I kill the engine and coast, searching for a marshal post. I roll the car to a stop beside one.

That's Historic Racing

Parked beside the marshal post, I'm fuming. I stay in the car, visor down, waiting for the race to finish. The marshal scolds me afterward-reminding me you're not supposed to stay inside. A SUV tows me back, giving me one last lap of the circuit.

Back in the garage, Theo and I find out:

• The engine's fine. It's probably just a faulty pressure sensor triggering the red light.
• Accidentally hitting that ignition switch is common. Every driver on the team told me, "Happened to me too-it's in a terrible spot."
• Since Eric Lecluse didn't take the start, I was actually fighting for the win...
• Without all those issues, I probably would have ended up in the wall missing a wheel anyway.

The left-rear radius rod mount was literally tearing the tubing off the chassis. If it had let go at speed, the consequences could have been dramatic-even dangerous flat out.

In fact, all those problems might have been what allowed me to bring the car-and myself-back without too much damage.

The consolation prize was seeing my rival Michel Dupont take his very first Historic Tour win after years in the series. We'd had a great scrap over several laps.

In short, a race to forget, but an unforgettable weekend nonetheless. Driving Charade is still mind-blowing. I just wish the onboard camera had worked so I could share it with you.