Snow.

We've had a good flump of snow overnight, it tool me about 20 minutes to defrost Truckasaurus this morning. I'm, again, sitting drinking hot drinks in Meribel and a gentle flutter of snow has started again. Not much more to add, just pictures.

Live Pic! My current view through the window.

This was what was outside our window this morning.

Meribel Village.

Cold.

I'm sitting in an Internet Cafe waiting for my hot chocolate, sorry - chocolat chaud and things are going pretty well. Hardly anything is open yet, and the bars that are are filled with fresh-faced seasonnaires on their training week.

Truckasaurus survived the 1,000k drive to the alps - until the snow came. Sometimes I'm such a dumb-ass, I bought anti-freeze with me but neglected to put it in the radiator. 1 trip up the mountain later, a very overheated truck, a pipe blown from the engine and knackered turbo. She's still running and running fine but without the turbo, the climbs up mountains are proving trouble some.

We've started distributing information about advertising and had some positive feed-back, but no bookings yet - the next few day will be interesting! And we've finally moved into our permanent apartment for the season. It's in Courchevel 1550 - we couldn't find anything decent in Meribel for the price we wanted to pay. 1550 is only a 10 minute drive away from Meribel and it's a nice place. The apartment in right in the centre of the village, with a few bars and shops, and the view is stunning.

An apology to everyone that I didn't catch up with before I left. After flitting back and forth to Bahrain and Solihul and preparing for the season I just ran out of time. I'll be back in 5 months, I'll see you then.


Laters.

Big.

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you -

TRUCKASAURUS.




Next step on my masterplan, acquire a Chip Shop.

Truck.

I've bought a truck, it's brilliant.
Big wheels, knobbly tyres and loads of electric gizmo's.
That's it, I'm never driving a normal car again...

Die Strasse Reise - Part 2

And so to the ring. Another perfect day and a very crowded circuit. Start with the usual, a casual stroll around the car park to see who has brought what. No Kangoo diesel this time but the usual mix of Porsche and BMW, a few shit things painted orange, a collection of Dutch Alfa 75's. The only things worthy of a mention was the yellow Diablo - a bit too showy for me and the Porsche Carrera GT - nice.

Farid on the way to the circuit.

Then the time comes to buy the ticket and head out for your first lap. Every time, as I'm sitting with helmet on, waiting for the barrier to rise, I think "and why am I doing this again". If anyone actually sat and thought how dangerous it is, with bikes flying passed on all sides, unpredictable dicks in Porsches who are only quick in a straight line and stupid English twats in Alfa Romeos, the place would be closed in an instant. But nobody does think and it's still open - for which we are truly grateful. And then, with in three corners, the apprehension turns to joy.With the tyres singing, engine shouting and the brakes cooking, nothing comes close. I still find it astounding that a normal road car can be put through so much and still drive you home afterwards. Thank you Germany, for your crazy driving laws.

Castle? Did we go to a castle?

After a full day and some interesting laps, due to the busy circuit, it was back to the hotel to analyse laps, photos and footage over beer and cake (except for Hawk) and to prepare for cuttlefish and noodles. Sunday night in Adenau is a quiet affair. It's easy to get caught out and miss the closing time of the bars - basically, if you aren't in them they close. We just managed to avoid disaster as the usual establishments were dark and empty, but a schlep up the high street brought us to the last bar illuminating the pavement. I don't think they were expecting anyone to bother going this far down the street. We managed to get served but not with the customary smile associated with German bar-staff.

More cuttlefish anyone?

A few more beers, cocktails and curious shots and the long walk back to the hotel, made longer by alcohol. And comforted by the knowledge that Monday means a trip to the Nurburgring Museum.... again.

More to follow...

Die strasse reiche - Part I

Things of note from the latest jolly to the Nordschlife. The usual early start with the usual hangover but with an unexpected dash through the fogged Kent A-roads to Dover. Then came the scary bit, the ferry trip to Dunkerque. I've not been that intimidated by a group of people since the last time I when to the Fair at Dartford Park. There was a group of lorry drivers, from some Eastern European country, hands like mutton and faces twisted and scarred, passing round a bottle of Grants.
I can only assume that this was to freshen themselves up after the long haul across the UK and in preparation for the long haul across Europe. From now on I'm steering well clear of any trucks on the motorway.

After the relief of getting off in one piece came the slog through France, Belgium and Germany, which was fairly uneventful until the 'road from hell'. Farid managed to get about 3 inches of air from the back wheels of his BMW after hitting a nasty pot-hole, while overtaking, and nearly speared into the car he was attempting to pass. Unfortunately, I was right behind and it was my turn next. I'd like to take this opportunity to thank the guys at Guest's Alfa Romeo,Knowle, who did a cracking job repairing my suspension and, without whom, I would have been upside-down, in a ditch, in Belgium.

The Blue Corner & Jim in the Blue Corner.

After that, the drive through Germany was stunning. The leaves had started to turn and we were blessed with beautiful sunshine, making the last leg of the drive a joy. We had a brief stop along one of the minor, twisty, tree lined roads for a stretch and a pee, then continued on to Adenau and the Blaue Ecke, for cake and beer. Except Hawk wasn't allowed cake, not through personal choice, he actually ordered a slice of Strudel... twice. Unfortunately, nothing was forthcoming. I don't know if it's a worldwide Hawk Cake Ban or just European but he was unable to order cake for the entire weekend.

The Minx, waiting for a good thrashing.

Then it was a quick dash up the wobbly stairs, passed Gladstone Small's suit of armour to our brand new, lovely-shiny rooms for the 4 S's. Clean clothes, few more Veltins, pizza bigger than your head, Bit Burgers, some dubious shot of something and to bed. I know this doesn't sound like the perfect preparation, when the next day you're driving your own car round the toughest race circuit in the world, but it's tradition - if we didn't get a hangover on the first day it wouldn't be a trip to the ring.

More to come...