It is no secret that I do not really regard motor racing as sport.
Yes, the drivers are skilled and courageous and, as I was able to confirm up close at the Paul Ricard Circuit in spectacular Var countryside near Le Castellet, the cars are sleek, chic beauties. But sport, for me, does not involve quite this level of powered movement.
Others disagree and although this was not a race, the circuit was buzzing yesterday as enthusiasts waited their turns to try out the Ferraris, Porsches and Lamborghinis - and let us not forget the Audis - for themselves. In the case of the Ferrari 458 Italia, that works out at a whacking €319 for six laps.
At the wheel in each of the photos is my very good friend Patrice Melia, a cardiologist from Nice who includes sailing and - in a throwback to student days - serious rock and jazz drumming among varied interests. I didn't know he also loved fast cars until his wife, Caroline, rang to say she'd booked him in for his birthday. I accepted the invitation to go along and watch.
There was a lot of briefing, and a lot of waiting around, before Patrice and the others were each allowed their rather short spells on the circuit itself.
Each paying guest is accompanied on his stage de pilotage (or hers, although all the hers yesterday were watching, too) by an expert. These men in blue overalls know how to drive, how to ensure others drive safely and also how to bark when necessary; "I seriously p***** off mine," one of a group of English participants said afterwards. "Basically I was going too fast. But isn't that supposed to be the idea?"
I am sure there was good reason for the instructor's caution. Patrice reached 190kmp/h on the straights and thoroughly enjoyed his birthday present. That is 120kmp/h short of the car's maximum speed but is still very fast indeed for a Sunday afternoon spin.
It seemed altogether incongruous on the way home to see the heavy evening traffic - happily, it was heavy only on the other side of the road - down to snail's pace between Hyères and Toulon.
What was in it for the spectator who doesn't care too much for motor racing? Well it was surprisingly exciting to watch amateurs indulging their speed fetishes, there were endless soft drinks and coffee on tap (though no Ricard or anything else containing alcohol, for fairly obvious reasons) and it was no hardship to be on this impressive circuit where Alain Prost trained and which may one day soon host Formula 1 events.
And I did like the somewhat forlorn look of this wounded Porsche, withdrawn from the process because of tyre problems and looking, with its red wing mirrors, wheel frames and go faster stripes, like a bull bloodied by a banderillero's darts.
But it didn't turn me into a wannabe boy racer.
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