£1000 Challenge
Last issue we reported back from another incredible Le Mans Classic. Here’s how our Tomcat got us there – but did it get us safely back, too?
Rover 216 goes to Le Mans
THE STORY SO FAR Miles driven 674 Total mileage 97,473 What’s gone wrong Nothing, yet... Will the Rover make it back to Peterborough?
At last, the big day. Having never been to the Le Mans Classic before, this was an event I’d been looking forward to – Christmas Day, at the beginning of July. My only concern was whether our £1000 Rover 216 Coupé was up to the challenge of the 1000-mile round trip.
It wasn’t just that the Rover had let me down before – although to be fair to it, depositing the contents of its coolant system all over the A1 was more an age-related issue than a reliability one. Its lumpy idle had me worried, as did the fact this would be its longest journey in over 15 years; it was still in storage this time last year.
I was as thorough as possible in preparing the Tomcat for its Le Mans marathon; I treated it to a full service, followed by a shakedown run to Silverstone in the hope that if there were any potential hiccups, they’d reveal themselves before its pilgrimage to the home of French motor sport. That it completed the journey faultlessly gave me encouragement, but I was still nervous.
Thursday 5 July was our D-day. I increased the tyre pressures, topped up the fluids and even cleaned it. But if doing so won me any brownie points with L513 JBU, they were soon lost after when the amount of luggage we were taking became apparent. One tent, three airbeds, three sleeping bags, holdalls, a camping table, tool bag, socket set – just reading the list wore me out.
Getting everything Messrs. Simister, Le Caplain and Hope would need inside the Tomcat was a challenge, but endless hours playing
Tetris proved to not be a complete waste of time. The boot was soon completely filled, then the rear passenger footwell, followed by the seat behind the driver. It did all eventually go in, though, and there was room enough room left – just – for three adults. Ready to set off, I hopped in the driver’s seat for the drive down to Portsmouth.
UNEXPECTED SETBACKS
We were soon making good progress. Being fully laden didn’t seem to have had any particularly detrimental effect on the ride, cornering or acceleration, and even the rough idle didn’t seem to be getting any worse. Joy was shortlived, though, when we learned that our 11pm ferry to Le Havre had been cancelled because of strike action in France.
I kept the Tomcat’s nose pointed in the direction of Portsmouth while David made enquires with Brittany Ferries. ‘The good news is that we’re
sailing to Caen instead,’ he finally announced. Cue much celebration and relief, before he added: ‘The bad news is that it doesn’t sail until 8am tomorrow.’
An overnight stay in a hotel room was an unexpected expense, though not especially problematic. The issue lay in the fact that the pressure on the Tomcat to perform had been ramped up exponentially. Originally, we would have arrived early on Friday afternoon. Now it would be late into the evening, leaving no time for any mechanical tantrums. If the Tomcat were to fail to proceed at any point upon landing in France then
we wouldn’t have the time to sufficiently do justice to our report on an event of Le Mans’ sprawling scale.
Pondering the situation over a couple of beers before bed gave us time for reflection; the situation was less than ideal, but at least we still had a means of crossing the Channel, which gave us some cause for optimism. Didn’t it?
ROVER VENTURES ABROAD
The 20-minute drive to Portsmouth docks early the following morning was uneventful. The scene upon our arrival, however, was anything but.
I’d been told that I would spot a few like-minded enthusiasts also heading to Le Mans, but hadn’t quite envisaged the sheer number of mouth-watering classics that were assembling all around us. Seemingly ever other car queuing at passport control was something old and interesting – VW Campers, MGBs, Morgans, innumerable Porsches, Jaguar saloons and sports cars – even Caterham Sevens. It felt like we were waiting to enter a car show, not board a cross-Channel ferry.
After clearing security, we drove on board, refitted the glass roof panels and went off in search of breakfast. About five hours later it was time to make our way back to the Rover, and the first order of business was to remove the roof panels again – a necessity when the Rover doesn’t have air conditioning and the temperatures in France soared as high as 30 degrees.
Mike swiped the keys for the drive to Le Mans, leaving everyone else to keep their fingers crossed that the Tomcat wouldn’t register any objections to the two and a half-hour drive ahead of it as we joined all manner of British classics spilling off the ferry.
Even after leaving Caen in a convoy of classics, there were plenty of further opportunities for carspotting. Ferraris and Lamborghinis effortlessly breezed past JBU, but it gave an equally good account of itself, easing past a Triumph TR6, Alfa Romeo Spider 2000 and – at one point – a Giugiaro-styled Lotus Esprit. The Rover was content in Mike’s hands cruising at a steady 65mph on French A-roads, stopping only at what felt like an endless succession of toll stations that frequently punctuated the route.
The Rover even impressed in terms of fuel economy; having brimmed the car’s tank in Peterborough, we made our next fuel stop about an hour away from Le Mans in Fontenai-sur- Orne, still with just over a quarter of a tank left. In truth, we stopped primarily to restock on bottled water – we might have been struggling in the blistering heat, but the Rover certainly wasn’t.
‘I hadn’t envisaged the sheer number of classics assembling all around us’
We made it on to the Triumph Sports Six Club’s campsite (where we’d be spending the next two days) at roughly 7pm. If only putting the tent up had proved to be as straightforward as the journey down from Caen…
VINTAGE LE MANS CLASSIC
The Tomcat enjoyed a well-earned rest throughout Saturday while the three of us busied ourselves with trackside photography and making our way around the colossal number of car club displays lining the Bugatti circuit. The event was stupendous, as you’ll know if you’ve read last week’s issue (full report CCW 11 July). Suffice to say, if you’re considering going to the next event in 2020, just go – we promise that you won’t regret the three days of classic car overload.
Sunday morning comprised dismantling the same tent that had proven to be so difficult to erect, before straining our collective brain cells to work out the order in which we needed to get everything we’d brought back in to the Tomcat.
With the Rover once again loaded to bursting point, I got into the driver’s seat for my first session of driving in France. Thankfully, this was aided greatly by the satnav showing roundabouts must to be entered counter-clockwise if you don’t want to have a prang.
With little else to distract on the arrow-straight toll roads, I found myself regularly checking the Tomcat’s temperature gauge, convinced that if there was to be a problem, it would result from a split coolant hose – and in this heat it would be game over very quickly for the Honda 16-valve engine.
I needn’t have worried, though; the temperature needle never budged from its favoured position just below the halfway position on the gauge on the drive down to Portsmouth and during Mike’s time behind the wheel – and it continued to do so all the way to Le Havre.
It was David’s turn to take the wheel for the drive from Portsmouth to Peterborough, having not yet had a chance to sample the Tomcat’s fine handling and gutsy soundtrack. If only it was backed up by strong acceleration – though I suppose that’s why the 220 Turbo exists. Like Mike, he was quick to praise the car – it’s rare for a 25-year-old Rover to drive as well as this one does.
Pulling into the car park at CCW Towers, David suggested that given his Reliant Robin’s imminent return to the road, it was a nailed-on certainty that we’d be driving to the 2020 event in his three-wheeler. I wasn’t alone in suggesting to him in no uncertain terms that it was a trip that he’d probably find himself making alone.
Another trip to Le Mans in the Tomcat, though? That’s a different matter altogether…