Grand Prix de France Historique - Part 2

In the last article I left you on the edge of your seat. Pretty much a cliffhanger worthy of a TV series. I know, it was mean. But now, here is the rest of the story.

A Second Race Without Hope

After Saturday's result, I line up 33rd out of 46 overall. Michel Dupont, who finished second in class the day before, starts 26th.

Seven cars between us on a rolling start might as well be a galaxy.

So it's already lost. A podium is out of reach. At best I can run a fun race surrounded by big names like Eric Helary and Soheil Ayari.

But a podium? Impossible.

Between Saturday's race and Sunday's, it hit me how badly I wanted to win. Win the Grand Prix de France Historique, full stop. Not just take part.

I realized how awful I felt for ruining my own chances. No one could really tell; I joked about the spin with friends. But deep down, it almost brought me to tears.

I wanted at least one win that weekend. And now it was impossible. I had to let it go.

So on Sunday morning (alarm set for 5:30 a.m.), I understood that acceptance was the only way forward. I just needed to focus on a good race-clawing back as many spots as possible, chasing lap time purely for the fun of it, even if the podium was gone.

Back to the outsider role. The one that suits me best.

A Different Plan

No repeat of Saturday's mistake.

This time the start is nothing special. I even place myself in the worst possible spot for Turn 1: smack in the middle, boxed in on both sides.

But it works-no contact, and decent speed out of the corner.

I pick off a few cars and eventually latch onto Michel and Regis, even sneaking past them.

That does not last. With 46 starters, traffic is constant and other drivers are carving their way forward too. Michel slips ahead again.

I tussle with two Van Diemens for several laps. We hold each other up, and I watch Michel drive off. Just like Dijon-only this time there's no mechanical issue. Michel is running third. The podium is slipping away.

Then, a surprise: the Van Diemen ahead gives me a signal.

A Signal You Can Trust

I know that gesture: old karting trick. Hard to translate, but it means "push me on the straight and grab the tow." The idea is to work together to reel in the leaders instead of fighting over a place that doesn't matter. I repeat the motion for the car behind me.

We form a three-car train, carefully taking turns down the straight so none of us slows the group. Each of us gets a shot at the tow.

It works.

My lap times drop like lead. The dash shows 2:31 laps-three seconds faster than the day before.

Michel is only a few seconds up the road when I complete lap seven, and I'm leading the trio.

Antoine leans over the pit wall waving. At speed I can barely make out more than a blur above his trademark sunglasses, but I get it: "Michel is right ahead-go get him."

"Right ahead" still means half the main straight. About three seconds. An eternity.

One lap left. We're down to two cars sharing the slipstream; the second Van Diemen has dropped off.

I get passed cleanly before the Mistral chicane, then use the slipstream to re-pass in Signes. That corner is taken at 200 km/h. Michel appears. Out of Signes. Within reach.

Through the double-right at Beausset I see what looks like a mistake. I close fast, but it's still too early to dive.

Now I'm glued to him. The nose of my single-seater is practically in his gearbox. The Van Diemen behind can't match our pace in the last two corners, so there's no pressure from behind.

Into Bendor, Michel cracks the door open...

...and I choose not to pass.

Karting Memories

Back when I raced a lot of karting, I had two specialties: sweeping around the outside of Turn 1 to pass everyone, and stealing the lead in the last corner of the last lap.

For that second move, the idea is to pile on the pressure for several laps-always showing your nose in the leader's mirrors. Drivers have this reflex of dropping their guard in the final corner, as if the race were already won. That's the moment to pounce.

The first trick put me in trouble the day before. I should have calmed down. But I couldn't resist trying the second. My mind flashes to how crushing it would be to fail again, so close to the goal. After all, I've only been in Michel's mirrors for two corners. Is that enough?

I go for it. I stick the nose right onto his rear wheels, piling on the pressure.

Final corner.

Michel chooses the defensive line. It's tighter, so his exit speed will be lower than mine, which comes from the textbook racing line.

The plan works.

I nail the last corner.

Last straight.

I'm quicker on exit and pull alongside.

Checkered flag in sight. We're approaching 150 km/h and my front wheels are still a meter behind, but I have the momentum.

Will I make it in time?

Two Blinks of an Eye

Or exactly 93 thousandths of a second.

That's the gap between our cars.

And that's when my friends erupted.

Michel is a good sport and we congratulate each other, but I can see the disappointment on his face. I even apologize-imagine how tough that must be. I take comfort knowing he stood on the podium the day before.

For me, it's my turn to enjoy it.

The cherry on the cake?

Rene Arnoux hands me the trophy for third place. The very same Arnoux who starred in that legendary 1979 race at Dijon.

Thank You

First, all my support to Eric Lecluse, who couldn't make the event for personal reasons.

Eric, I'm thinking of you. Come back soon.

Huge thanks, as always, to the partners making this season possible: the Volant Michel Vaillant x Yema , the Vaillante Academie , the Circuits de Vendee , watchmaker Yema , and equipment supplier RRS .

And above all: thank you Classic Racing School . Without you I wouldn't experience weekends like this.

Finally, a heartfelt thank-you to my friends and family who came to this Grand Prix de France. Sharing that podium with you was pure joy, and a relief to know you had front-row seats for that last-lap pass. No GoPro, no onboard, no cameras caught the moment. I hope it stays vivid in your memories.

On my side, it's etched forever.