You all know how much I love the arse on this car.
Number 8 Toyota Gazoo Racing LMP1, 6th gear, 7000rpm, 320km/h on the straight up to Virage d’Indianapolis, night racing at Le Mans.
And just like a month ago with 24h Nürburgring, that’s my next 24 hours taken care of.
Seen stunting on Kurfürstenstr. West Berlin acid lime green Lamborghini Gallardo LP570-4 Superleggera. “Do I look like a baller?”
Art on International Museum Day.
24 hour sci-fi sonic kinetic endurance live art. “… hollow-eyed victims of some sort of weird abuse.”
And that’s my next 24 hours taken care of.
This piece of sci-fi has given me so much pleasure the last four years. Mark Webber and team driving it to the WEC championship in 2015 and 2016; Timo Bernhard this year; ripping Le Mans three years in a row; 1000 horsepower from a 2 litre V4 turbo hybrid. Listen to that spool up and down as it butchers the Mulsanne Straight, every time it kicks in under braking is the dirtiest physical pleasure. And it does this for 24 hours without a break, only pausing briefly to pit. It’s Live Art. Talk about durational and endurance art, this is it. Hypnotic, visceral technology and engineering. And this is the end.
This is the last race of the 2017 WEC season, and for the WEC in its current format, the last race for the Porsche 919 LMP1, and with Porsche leaving LMP1 for Formula E, that’s it for the category for now. LMP2 is banging it, GTE also (my love of Ford GT and its flying buttresses is well-known), but LMP1, the mad, mad experiments in technology (Audi hybrid turbo-diesel, anyone? Downforce like you can’t believe?), all this, is over. Killed by insane budgets, Dieselgate, and the global shift to electric.
Here’s the 919 de-pitting, with new driver, tires, and a nose change in about 1 minute, after getting taken out by another Porsche, and losing the #1 position. OMG MOR! as I like to say.
Woop-woop! That’s the sound of da police.
Woop-woop! That’s the sound of da beast.
Yes, that’s a 1976 Porsche 911 SC Targa with its blues bolted to the b-pillar (twos are up the front, inboard from the low-slung fog lamps), plus a rough as guts wingnut for fine adjustment. Where its racing number should be, there’s a ‘SOS 901’, and it’s got a huge hazard orange stripe on its bonnet, which (I think) marks it as federal police, along with the white exterior.
Yes, the Belgian — and Dutch, and German — police ran Porsches from the ’60s to the ’90s, because … something something air-cooled, rear engines don’t overheat when reversing at speed in the emergency lane? Fuck I love Europe.
I was pretty blasted after a couple of hours Ferrari-ing, and really didn’t do this glorious work of art justice in my photos, but because I’m in Mode: Hoonage! lately, here are some stats: It’s a rear-wheel drive (duh!) 3-litre flat 6, putting down a not-unimpressive for what it was 231 bhp, to mow down classy international thieves on the Belgian equivalent of the Autobahn at 242 km/h. The back seat (and I’m using that term loosely) was mostly replaced by a crate of emergency gear. As for why a Targa over, say, a normal 911, this was so the passenger cop could stand up, turn around, grab the massive b-pillar, and wave instructions at the following cars. Seriously. That’s why Targa.
After a couple of hours of Autoworld Brussels’ Ferrari 70 Years madness — where I spent an unholy amount of lust on the F40 (yes, Frances, yes, ‘Brutal’) — I was looking for a quick digestif in the form of a GT40. Who’d’a known Autoworld … Rotates. Its autos.
No GT40 for you, Mme Frances. How about a Porsche 906? In the exact same spot? How about fuck, yeah?
’60s sci-fi dreaming of a future they got and we didn’t. My, this is a pretty set of wheels. And it’s road legal. Yay to FIA’s homologation rules giving us something this bonkers you could drive to the shop in for morning milk. How about some stats to go with the smell of victory?
This is chassis-number 906-128, with the racing number 148, under which it won the Targa Florio on May 8, 1966, driven by Willy Mairesse (Belgium) and Herbert Müller (Switzerland). It’s a rear-wheel drive, 2 litre, flat-6, putting down 210 bhp at 8000 rpm for a top speed of 280 km/h, and weighs a mere 580kg. It looks like something from the Jetsons, if the Jetsons were brawlers and Jane ditched George. I like very much how the two times I’ve been to Autoworld, they’ve populated this one spot with automotive mayhem. Porsche 906, for when my other car is a GT40.