As five o’ clock rolls around on Sunday afternoon, the Pratt & Miller Corvette Racing team is getting its second wind. Twenty-odd hours into the 24 Heures du Mans marathon and the finish line is finally in sight– literally and figuratively; the garage opens onto the racetrack’s historic grandstands. The Pratt & Miller team has persisted through an intense all-night battle with rivals Aston Martin and, finally, the blazing afternoon heat of the French countryside in summer.
The race started an hour later than normal, to avoid conflict with World Cup soccer. Race activity in the following hours has gone from frenetic to merely hectic. Qualifying fourth and fifth, the Corvettes start as they mean to finish; showing typical pace over the 8.5 mile Circuit de la Sarthe. They're only a few seconds slower than the not-so-ironically named 007 and 009 Astons. And then, less than an hour into the race, the team runs into its first major stumbling block. Johnny O’Connell, driver of the number 63 Corvette, radios-in to report a shunt on the back side of the circuit.
Just before the crash, Pratt & Millers’ trackside engineers were treated to a blizzard of blinking lights on their telemetry readouts. Wildly fluctuating oil and water pressure, tire temperatures and other data– all highlighted by insistent red and green warnings– blipped onto their screens. In a heartbeat, the mood in the garage shifts from anxious to serious.
The crew members prepare for the damaged car’s arrival. The garage grows quieter and more focused. Finally, the fierce baritone of the Corvette’s 7.0-liter V-8 can be heard bouncing off the pit lane walls. Seconds later, the car slides into its designated stall. Dan Binks and the crew of #63 leap into action, pneumatically raising the car, lowering it onto dollies and rolling it nose-first into the garage. With the race only a few hours old, the energy level is high. A dozen mechanics swarm over the car, like worker bees attending to the queen. Within 10 minutes, the crew has replaced the rear wing, wheel arch and tie rod. A few moments later, #63 fires up and roars out of the pit stall to rejoin the race.
The sound of the Corvette’s engine switching off is the hallmark of the Pratt & Miller pit stop; roaring in, the drivers kill the engine even before the car has come to a halt. Car up, refueling rig in, tires swapped. Done. The car drops back to the tarmac with an audible clunk. The driver whips the outrageous V-8 to life. The engine starts with a pop exponentially louder than a 12-gauge shotgun. Leaving the pits under full throttle, the powerplant’s loud enough to painful pierce an enclosed radio headset. No wonder the team doesn’t let the engine run in the garage. Pit lane is a precisely choreographed ballet that will start and finish again and again, until the waning hours of Sunday afternoon.
And then the most dramatic event of the race for the Pratt & Miller pit crew: the 63 car arrives in a cloud of smoke with a destroyed gearbox. As before, the team leaps into action, pushing the car into the garage. This time it goes ass-end first, as if to hide the Corvette’s all-important inner workings from their rivals. In an instant, they remove the rear deck. A cloud of milky, acrid oil smoke billowing from under the bodywork fills the garage. In times of crisis like this, crew members are their assigned responsibilities. Mechanics from both the 63 and 64 cars rush to one side of the garage to contribute all they can to the resuscitative effort.
Within minutes, they strip the rear of the car bare of its carbon-fiber skin, exposing its skeleton. Mechanics lean deep into the rear of the car and lift the smoking gearbox from its innards with asbestos-gloved hands. At Le Mans, gearbox replacement is prohibited by the regulations. So the team dives into the unit, removing its casing and exposing the six-speed box' intricate workings. The unit is intensely hot, melting into the rubberized floor covering. Forty-five minutes later, the 63 again roars out of the pit stall, the shafts and cogs of the cooked box lying on the counter in the tool trailer for later inspection.
After 24 grueling hours, the Corvettes cross the finish line in formation, the 64 a nose ahead of the 63. For the fifth time in six years, a Corvette wins the GT1 class at the 24 Hours. The race’s final image: Corvette Racing program manager Doug Fehan holding aloft the Stars and Stripes as the cars cross the line, his American muscle once again proving victorious in this seemingly endless crucible of speed.
[Thanks to Jim Durbin and the Pratt & Miller team for trackside access.]
What a great story, what a romantic race!
I few years I was driving from Normandie to Paris to catch a plane back to the states, I saw a off ramp sign for LeMans. It broke my heart that I didnt have time to stop and at least look at it, we were late.
I sighed, my travel partner for whom cars are an unfortunately necessary evil rolled her eyes.
I LIVE in Europe, and can’t explain why I haven’t been there yet. But this great story just helped me make a decision – I can’t wait no longer, in 2007 I MUST GO. To me, Le Mans is the greatest prix of all. Cars, mechanics and drivers: all have equal parts in a victory. That’s the essence of racing. No one wins this race just because of sheer luck.
Great story!
A proof that even a short article can bring to us the fantastic atmosphere of the greatest race on Earth.
Thank you.
One question, why refer to Johnny O’Connell as the 63 cars most recognizable driver, when Ron Fellows has been with the team for just as long, and has participated in atleast as many if not more racing series as O’Connell? No knock on O’Connell, of course, he has had a great career, but I would have thought of Fellows as the more well known of the two.
Anyway, thanks for a great piece, one day I really must get to Le Mans. I am always thankful for the American Le Mans series which allows me to get close to the teams and people. What fantastic cars.
Good story! I’ve enjoyed following the friendly rivalry between Corvette and Aston Martin. I’m a longtime fan of Ron Fellows, having met him several times after writing and illustrating a piece on him a few years ago. A brilliant driver and a genuinely nice man.
At this year’s ALMS at Mosport, I snapped a shot of “Ronnie” going by, just as one of the Astons spun out, and ended up with its butt mere feet from the guardrail where I was standing with several other photogs. Ron ended up with a penalty, effectively ruining his chance of a win, for tapping the Aston causing the spin. He wrote a column on the incident for the Toronto Star, using the photo I took to illustrate it.
(Fellows is #3 vette)
http://www.dodgetrucks.org/home/lesley/ALMS.jpg
That photo is hilarious! Looks to me like a new Aston Martin tactic, have the 007 car block the road in front of the Vettes and let the 009 car go.
I enjoyed watching that race, I just wish I wasn’t soaking wet while I watched. It rained all weekend and my buddies tent blew over in the middle of the night…right into mine. Very cold, very wet. Mosport is worth it though.
It sure was a miserable weekend. I tried to keep warm by drinking the horrible McMosport coffee, but that only resulted in multiple trips to the loo, which at one point I found myself sharing with three of the Pirelli girls (yup, sorry to burst your bubble guys, but they really do “go”). You can believe I passed on mirror time with them afterwards.
It will be interesting to see how the Aston Martin team continues to fare. Can’t help admire them, being privateers against the factory funded Vettes.
The race really is unbelievable – but the thing that’s interesting is how much of the “race” doesn’t take place within the famous 24-hour period. Mechanics for Pratt & Miller were in Le Mans 3 weeks before race-day to begin preparations. The logistics of mounting a factory Le Mans GT1 effort are staggering.
When you attend the race, be sure to come early, Monday before race weekend, preferably. The cars are all trotted out in the main square in Le Mans for scrutineering, people can walk up close and see the cars far better than is possible during the race.
The town of Le Mans is really a great place, there are bars and restaurants everywhere, all catering to the race crowd. The people are friendly and the ease of access to the track is excellent. The Friday night party in the infield tent cities is the place to be the night before the race – a few hundred thousand people and many pints of beer add up to a good time.
Lucky, lucky you Mitch, to experience the real Le Mans. For me, the ALMS series is an event not to be missed on my calendar.
I’m with you – as exciting as the actual race may be, for me it’s just intoxicating to wander through the pits for hours, watching mechanics, observing the huge amount of prep work that goes on behind the scenes, the whole experience is just an overload of incredible sound and colour.
Great article, really portrays the feelings and what goes in the garage. I’ll say it again, great article!