We tasked surfing journalist Rory Parker to watch this year's live stream of the 2016 24 Hours of Le Mans. What follows is an experiment to experience the world's greatest endurance race from the perspective of a motorsports novice with a profanity-laden stream-of-consciousness writing style. Parker lives in Hawaii and spends far more time spearfishing than behind the wheel of a car. Jump ahead to Part Two here, and Part Three here.
Big Money and billionaire hobbyists and rockets on wheels. Jets belching French color smoke overhead. Balance of power fuckery. Plenty of water on the ground this morning. Absurdly expensive motorcars lined up in the pissing rain. Fast twitch lunatics behind the wheel. Chomping at the bit. Let's go let's go let's go!
Race hasn't even started, Ford #67 maybe dealing with clutch issues. Karma?
That
beautiful bastard Brad Pitt's out on the track, waving the tricolor flag. It's a standing start in "Noah's Ark" weather and the 2016 24 hours of Le Mans is go!
First lap takes place behind the safety car, finished in a record setting 8 minutes 27 seconds. Wrong kind of record maybe, but this is the first time I've set my mind to watching the whole damn race. Feel like I'm part of history.
3:00 AM on Kauai, a little too early for life. Sucking down coffee like a maniac. Don't fall back asleep. Got my hands on four hours of rest, how much more can I need? Better be enough for the next twenty four hours. Gonna get kinda punchy toward the end.
Jason Statham on the scene. Four feet of solid muscle, non-existent hairline. Lovely wife peanut gallery sitting next to me calls him the "best race car drive in the world." Not sure if she's serious. Toss up, could go either way. Statham's a funny guy. Heir to the Bruce Willis comedy action crown. Really good in the movie where the fat comedy lady plays a spy.
Ford's on the road. Problems with gearbox pressure, apparently.
Nearing a half hour in and the safety car is still on the track. Hellish amounts of water on the ground, in the air. Visibility is garbage. Getting better. Twitter wags, "Not with a bang but a whimper." Just building suspense. Mother Nature felt like killing some people today, race officials need to dial back the drivers until it dries a tad. Normal inclination would've seen 'em flying, guaranteed early lap wrecks. Sad news for that bloodthirsty part of my lizard brain I try and keep suppressed. Good news for humanity.
#12 in the pit for a bit. Dealing with problems while the safety car is still on the track. Good call. Forty minutes after the most beautiful man in the world waved his pretty little flag and the safety car is still keeping everyone reined in.
GT drivers want to get going! Proto guys say not yet. Too wet. Bunch of pussies. Just follow the plume of water in front of you. How hard can it be?
Fifty three minutes in, safety car's off the track and we are flying! Track's drier, but hardly bone. Doesn't matter. Wets are coming off, slicks going on.
An hour in, Toyota sitting in first. Ford leading GT. Last minute BoP ain't hampering their campaign.
Got an epic Le Mans snack situation lined up. Bratwurst and homemade salsa and plenty of chips. One of those aerosol cans of cheese. Blueberry strudel. Beer on ice, maybe a tad early to crack the first. Gotta pace myself. Le Mans is about endurance!
Made a big pile of hard boiled eggs in preparation. Don't usually really like the things, but been suffering from a serious craving. Might be pregnant. Unlikely, I'm a thirty five year old man. Get my eggs from a weirdo who runs a chicken rescue. Ridiculously expensive, but the tastiest things that've ever fallen from a fowl's ass.
Couple cans of anchovies to go with the eggs. Disgusting combination, makes the wife gag. Maybe I've got some sort of vitamin deficiency.
Dawn's nearly arrived in my Pacific island kingdom, feral roosters are going ape shit. High powered pellet rifle at the ready. Hate the fucking things. May seem crazy, probably is, but being woken every morning by a screaming bird wears on your nerves. And city folk don't realize the creatures crow day and night. Dumb ass birds trying to lay claim to my yard. It's my yard, you fucking bird. Hunk of lead delivered at 1000 fps proves it.
Dry ground is building speed, but rain's forecast to make a reappearance.
Rain expected in the next two minutes. I'm watching a stream on the other side of the world. What a crazy future we live in.
Porsche #92 moves into the GTE lead. Audi #8 and Porsche #1 are trading off LMP1.
Maybe you could. Maybe a girl who looks like my wife did ten years ago would say, "I do!" Like eating an entire cheesecake. Seems like it'd be enjoyable, but you just end up feeling terribly ashamed. Need to bang out ten million sit ups before I'd let a nineteen year old see me naked.
Porsche is running 1,2,3,4 in GTE Am at an hour and a half in.
Porsche, Audi, Toyota battling through the Ford chicane. No change in place, but LMP1 is tight.
Hawaii doesn't have a big car culture. Tons of tarted out pick-ups, not much fast. On Kauai. Oahu's full of military kids just finished with deployment looking to spend all that money that's burning a hole in their pocket.
I know there's a Ferrari on my island, seen it around a few times. Stupid car to own in a place without a mile long straight stretch, road conditions that border on dirt track. Can't take anywhere, moment on inattention and you're bottomed out.
If you're looking for a fun driving experience in the Hawaiian archipelago you'd best head to Maui. Back road to Hana, miles and miles of cliff side switch backs. Single lane, well maintained. Very narrow. Choked with terrified tourists and maniacal locals. Familiarity breeding contempt, hauling ass around blind corners in a rattletrap beater with a beer between their legs.
Pick up a rental, spend some time scaring your fellow tourists. Plenty of spots to pull over, people on vacay don't wanna. As though they have someplace to be. Fun to ride their ass while Dad shakes his fist at the rearview.
Pick up something small. Go kart like. Tried it once in a Charger, no fun at all. Nearly as wide as the entire road, makes dealing with oncoming traffic a nightmare. But a weak ass little compact makes it a breeze. Just don't look over the cliffs. Target fixate, join your fellow unfortunates in the ocean.
Just over two hours in and Porsche #1 leads overall. Manor #44 heading LMP2.
GTE Pro sits Ford #68, Porsche #91, Ford #66. Team heartthrob #77 in fourth.
Quadruple amputee Frédéric Sausset is sitting 45th overall. So gnarly, picking up an infection that costs you your limbs. Came pretty close to that myself. Exploded my shoulder against the bottom at Pipeline, underwent major surgery to put everything back together. Used cadaver ligaments to tie my arm to my collar bone.
About a year after the surgery, after killing myself at physical therapy to regain all my atrophied muscle, a little pimple popped up on my scar line. Turned out to be a massive infection. I spend a lot of time in tropical streams, hunting prawns and playing under waterfalls. Weird shit floating in there, docs couldn't figure out what was festering in my bloodstream.
Week in the hospital, two months pumping antibiotics into my heart via PICC line. Heading into surgery to scrape out the poison I was terrified I'd wake up short one arm. Told my wife I'd rather die. Don't let them amputate. I jerk off with that arm!
Shit, someone lost a wheel. #67 Ford, I think. Glanced away for a second, not one hundred percent sure.
Porsche, Toyota, Audi, LMP1. Audi heads into the pit at 36 laps. No driver change. Possibly swapping in tires. Ferrari #51, third place GTE, in the pit. Driver change.
Confusing interview with Oliver Webb. Problem with an oil leak. Interviewer's struggling with English.
Ford and Porsche have representatives on Reddit, feeding questions from the internet to drivers and crew. Cool move.
Two female drivers this year. Inès Taittinger in #28, Christina Nielsen in #60. Currently sitting 58th and 59th overall, respectively. 21 hours left.
Pretty neat there are women in the race. I know racing is notoriously sexist. Supposedly women don't possess the muscle mass or reflexes or mental fortitude or something. I don't know about that. But I know that many sports don't allow women in with the men at all. Surfing is pretty bad about that. And that's my deal, surfing. Probably come back to that later. Got a lot of time ahead of me, save some shit for later.
John Pew, #49, has spun at Arnage. Pew's first Le Mans, Wikipedia tells me he's really into sailing. Which is a boring hobby. The idea of spending all day slowly cruising on a boat is great. The reality is too much sun, and a total lack of excitement. Give me an outboard any day. Get out fast, kill some fish, be back on the dock and stinking drunk by 2 PM.
Sun's come out, looking like it'll be a nice day in Le Mans. Driver changes all around, more or less. At three and a quarter hours in everyone is still in the race. Porsche #1 still holding the lead overall.
#51 Ferrari's in the pit with battery trouble. Dropped to second to last place.
Mike Conway, Toyota #6, hits a 3:22.155 lap after three hours behind the wheel. Crazy shit. Sitting in second overall. Porsche still leads, Toyota has the third spot as well. With all the info available, I'd enjoy seeing the drivers' heart rates added to it. Curious to see how they deal. Beating at 200 per minute? Cold as ice slow pump? Dash cam alone is enough to raise mine. But I'm a big fat coward.
Conway in the lead. Toyota #5 in second. Porsche's pit dropped it into third. My shitty Hawaii internet is stuttering like crazy. Downside to living in a remote spot on a remote island.
#34, Nicolas Leutwiler behind the wheel, goes off the track. Yellow flag. He's all good, back on the track and on his way.
The rain lights have gone off, and this is a good time for a break. Back again in a few hours with updates. Maybe a little backstory on just what exactly I'm doing writing about Le Mans when I obviously have no idea what the hell is going on.
The race goes on in Part Two. Or if you want a bigger serving of Rory's sexy musings, check him out on beachgrit.com
Big Money and billionaire hobbyists and rockets on wheels. Jets belching French color smoke overhead. Balance of power fuckery. Plenty of water on the ground this morning. Absurdly expensive motorcars lined up in the pissing rain. Fast twitch lunatics behind the wheel. Chomping at the bit. Let's go let's go let's go!
Race hasn't even started, Ford #67 maybe dealing with clutch issues. Karma?
That
beautiful bastard Brad Pitt's out on the track, waving the tricolor flag. It's a standing start in "Noah's Ark" weather and the 2016 24 hours of Le Mans is go!
First lap takes place behind the safety car, finished in a record setting 8 minutes 27 seconds. Wrong kind of record maybe, but this is the first time I've set my mind to watching the whole damn race. Feel like I'm part of history.
3:00 AM on Kauai, a little too early for life. Sucking down coffee like a maniac. Don't fall back asleep. Got my hands on four hours of rest, how much more can I need? Better be enough for the next twenty four hours. Gonna get kinda punchy toward the end.
Jason Statham on the scene. Four feet of solid muscle, non-existent hairline. Lovely wife peanut gallery sitting next to me calls him the "best race car drive in the world." Not sure if she's serious. Toss up, could go either way. Statham's a funny guy. Heir to the Bruce Willis comedy action crown. Really good in the movie where the fat comedy lady plays a spy.
Ford's on the road. Problems with gearbox pressure, apparently.
Nearing a half hour in and the safety car is still on the track. Hellish amounts of water on the ground, in the air. Visibility is garbage. Getting better. Twitter wags, "Not with a bang but a whimper." Just building suspense. Mother Nature felt like killing some people today, race officials need to dial back the drivers until it dries a tad. Normal inclination would've seen 'em flying, guaranteed early lap wrecks. Sad news for that bloodthirsty part of my lizard brain I try and keep suppressed. Good news for humanity.
#12 in the pit for a bit. Dealing with problems while the safety car is still on the track. Good call. Forty minutes after the most beautiful man in the world waved his pretty little flag and the safety car is still keeping everyone reined in.
GT drivers want to get going! Proto guys say not yet. Too wet. Bunch of pussies. Just follow the plume of water in front of you. How hard can it be?
Fifty three minutes in, safety car's off the track and we are flying! Track's drier, but hardly bone. Doesn't matter. Wets are coming off, slicks going on.
An hour in, Toyota sitting in first. Ford leading GT. Last minute BoP ain't hampering their campaign.
Got an epic Le Mans snack situation lined up. Bratwurst and homemade salsa and plenty of chips. One of those aerosol cans of cheese. Blueberry strudel. Beer on ice, maybe a tad early to crack the first. Gotta pace myself. Le Mans is about endurance!
Got an epic Le Mans snack situation lined up. Bratwurst and homemade salsa and plenty of chips. One of those aerosol cans of cheese. Blueberry strudel. Beer on ice, maybe a tad early to crack the first. Gotta pace myself. Le Mans is about endurance!
Made a big pile of hard boiled eggs in preparation. Don't usually really like the things, but been suffering from a serious craving. Might be pregnant. Unlikely, I'm a thirty five year old man. Get my eggs from a weirdo who runs a chicken rescue. Ridiculously expensive, but the tastiest things that've ever fallen from a fowl's ass.
Couple cans of anchovies to go with the eggs. Disgusting combination, makes the wife gag. Maybe I've got some sort of vitamin deficiency.
Dawn's nearly arrived in my Pacific island kingdom, feral roosters are going ape shit. High powered pellet rifle at the ready. Hate the fucking things. May seem crazy, probably is, but being woken every morning by a screaming bird wears on your nerves. And city folk don't realize the creatures crow day and night. Dumb ass birds trying to lay claim to my yard. It's my yard, you fucking bird. Hunk of lead delivered at 1000 fps proves it.
Dry ground is building speed, but rain's forecast to make a reappearance.
Rain expected in the next two minutes. I'm watching a stream on the other side of the world. What a crazy future we live in.
Porsche #92 moves into the GTE lead. Audi #8 and Porsche #1 are trading off LMP1.
I find it very amusing that the dude from Grey's Anatomy is a successful endurance racer. Can't believe he earned enough from bad television dramas and 1980's teen rom-coms. He was in his twenties during Can't Buy Me Love. Must suck to be a teen heart throb at a point when cashing in on the rep will earn you a stint for statutory. Kind of like my last trip to Nicaragua. So many sexy backpacker girls, all of them half my age. Can't exactly walk up to some gorgeous young thing and ask, "Hey there! Got any daddy issues?"I find it very amusing that the dude from Grey's Anatomy is a successful endurance racer.
Maybe you could. Maybe a girl who looks like my wife did ten years ago would say, "I do!" Like eating an entire cheesecake. Seems like it'd be enjoyable, but you just end up feeling terribly ashamed. Need to bang out ten million sit ups before I'd let a nineteen year old see me naked.
Porsche is running 1,2,3,4 in GTE Am at an hour and a half in.
Porsche, Audi, Toyota battling through the Ford chicane. No change in place, but LMP1 is tight.
Hawaii doesn't have a big car culture. Tons of tarted out pick-ups, not much fast. On Kauai. Oahu's full of military kids just finished with deployment looking to spend all that money that's burning a hole in their pocket.
I know there's a Ferrari on my island, seen it around a few times. Stupid car to own in a place without a mile long straight stretch, road conditions that border on dirt track. Can't take anywhere, moment on inattention and you're bottomed out.
If you're looking for a fun driving experience in the Hawaiian archipelago you'd best head to Maui. Back road to Hana, miles and miles of cliff side switch backs. Single lane, well maintained. Very narrow. Choked with terrified tourists and maniacal locals. Familiarity breeding contempt, hauling ass around blind corners in a rattletrap beater with a beer between their legs.
Pick up a rental, spend some time scaring your fellow tourists. Plenty of spots to pull over, people on vacay don't wanna. As though they have someplace to be. Fun to ride their ass while Dad shakes his fist at the rearview.
Pick up something small. Go kart like. Tried it once in a Charger, no fun at all. Nearly as wide as the entire road, makes dealing with oncoming traffic a nightmare. But a weak ass little compact makes it a breeze. Just don't look over the cliffs. Target fixate, join your fellow unfortunates in the ocean.
Just over two hours in and Porsche #1 leads overall. Manor #44 heading LMP2.
GTE Pro sits Ford #68, Porsche #91, Ford #66. Team heartthrob #77 in fourth.
Quadruple amputee Frédéric Sausset is sitting 45th overall. So gnarly, picking up an infection that costs you your limbs. Came pretty close to that myself. Exploded my shoulder against the bottom at Pipeline, underwent major surgery to put everything back together. Used cadaver ligaments to tie my arm to my collar bone.
About a year after the surgery, after killing myself at physical therapy to regain all my atrophied muscle, a little pimple popped up on my scar line. Turned out to be a massive infection. I spend a lot of time in tropical streams, hunting prawns and playing under waterfalls. Weird shit floating in there, docs couldn't figure out what was festering in my bloodstream.
Week in the hospital, two months pumping antibiotics into my heart via PICC line. Heading into surgery to scrape out the poison I was terrified I'd wake up short one arm. Told my wife I'd rather die. Don't let them amputate. I jerk off with that arm!
Shit, someone lost a wheel. #67 Ford, I think. Glanced away for a second, not one hundred percent sure.
Porsche, Toyota, Audi, LMP1. Audi heads into the pit at 36 laps. No driver change. Possibly swapping in tires. Ferrari #51, third place GTE, in the pit. Driver change.
Confusing interview with Oliver Webb. Problem with an oil leak. Interviewer's struggling with English.
Ford and Porsche have representatives on Reddit, feeding questions from the internet to drivers and crew. Cool move.
Two female drivers this year. Inès Taittinger in #28, Christina Nielsen in #60. Currently sitting 58th and 59th overall, respectively. 21 hours left.
Pretty neat there are women in the race. I know racing is notoriously sexist. Supposedly women don't possess the muscle mass or reflexes or mental fortitude or something. I don't know about that. But I know that many sports don't allow women in with the men at all. Surfing is pretty bad about that. And that's my deal, surfing. Probably come back to that later. Got a lot of time ahead of me, save some shit for later.
John Pew, #49, has spun at Arnage. Pew's first Le Mans, Wikipedia tells me he's really into sailing. Which is a boring hobby. The idea of spending all day slowly cruising on a boat is great. The reality is too much sun, and a total lack of excitement. Give me an outboard any day. Get out fast, kill some fish, be back on the dock and stinking drunk by 2 PM.
Sun's come out, looking like it'll be a nice day in Le Mans. Driver changes all around, more or less. At three and a quarter hours in everyone is still in the race. Porsche #1 still holding the lead overall.
#51 Ferrari's in the pit with battery trouble. Dropped to second to last place.
Mike Conway, Toyota #6, hits a 3:22.155 lap after three hours behind the wheel. Crazy shit. Sitting in second overall. Porsche still leads, Toyota has the third spot as well. With all the info available, I'd enjoy seeing the drivers' heart rates added to it. Curious to see how they deal. Beating at 200 per minute? Cold as ice slow pump? Dash cam alone is enough to raise mine. But I'm a big fat coward.
Conway in the lead. Toyota #5 in second. Porsche's pit dropped it into third. My shitty Hawaii internet is stuttering like crazy. Downside to living in a remote spot on a remote island.
#34, Nicolas Leutwiler behind the wheel, goes off the track. Yellow flag. He's all good, back on the track and on his way.
The rain lights have gone off, and this is a good time for a break. Back again in a few hours with updates. Maybe a little backstory on just what exactly I'm doing writing about Le Mans when I obviously have no idea what the hell is going on.
The race goes on in Part Two. Or if you want a bigger serving of Rory's sexy musings, check him out on beachgrit.com
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