So I never really told you about the Spa trip. See, what happened is, while I was at Javelin’s winter double-header at Oulton & Anglesey, they announced a March trip to Spa Francorchamps. £400 for 2 days! What’s not to like? So I booked it, with fellow Mooers Mike and Mike.
Shortly after that, I was talked into buying Bookatrack Platinum Membership for 2015 (which was about as difficult as talking Eamonn Holmes into a Chelsea bun). Platinum Membership means I get to go to all their events, and they *also* had a March event at Spa. So that meant I had 2 days with Javelin, 2 days off, then another 2 days with Bookatrack. Ah well. As problems go, I’ve had worse.
Now this post is going to go in a direction you weren’t expecting. Earlier readers may recollect how I’ve been battling depression. The half of you that have felt the effects of depression will be metaphorically right here beside me, while the other half will be waiting for me to stop banging on about it and get over it. Well, you second half, you’ll be bored for a short while. Scroll down because there are some sexy cars down there. But up here we’re going to deal with it.
This is a signature moment of depression coming up, right here. I’m at Spa Francorchamps, arguably the best racetrack in the world, with two of my favourite people in the world, two great track cars, perfect conditions and an empty track. I mean, seriously, on the second day there were 36 cars booked on. That’s unheard of! Unless you can throw some boobs into the equation, it’s hard to imagine how a day could be any better than today. And yet, here I am, just wanting to pack up and go home. I can’t engage with anything. It’s just happening around me. I’m going out on track basically because it would be weird if I didn’t. But I’m not getting it. I’m not feeling it. I’m doing the same things I always do but inside I just feel like a bag of crap and I want it all to end.
That – right there – that’s depression. I can’t explain it any better than that.
So I do what I always do – I ride it out. I function, I go through the motions, and the day ends. I have a drink at the end of the day and have a little chat about what was going on. It makes me feel a bit better.
The next day, I wake up and I know instantly I’m a lot better. I start to gel with the Porsche a little, though it still feels like a bus and it still isn’t boosting properly. Then I have a go in the Teg and it jump-starts something inside me. THIS is what it’s all about. Holy crap, that’s a good car. The video footage shows afterwards that I’m doing the same lap times in both cars, despite the Porsche having double the chevaux pulling it up Kemmel. That’s how good the Teg is.
In the end I’m really quite relieved when the Porsche’s brake pad warning light comes on, so I have a good excuse to send it home with Mike, so I can keep the Teg for the Bookatrack days. I’m just not getting the Porsche thing. It doesn’t feel like a Keeper.
Right, photographic interlude done.
Oh wait, not quite. I had a couple of days to kill after the Mikes went home, and it happened to coincide with the eclipse. So then this happened:
I thought that was pretty cool.
Then before I knew it, Bookatrack were in town and I was out to play at the track again. This time the weather started a bit shitty…
Ah, but we don’t let stuff like that get us down! There was exotica to gawp at. We had the 2 new hypercars to get all dribbly over – the LaFerrari and Porsche 918 Spyder!
and they were soon burning up the track with the rest of us!
And then, because l had my mojo back, I spent the days pounding round the track instead of taking photos. And these videos show what happened!
Day 1 highlights, including LaFerrari, Porsche 918 and lots of wetness and fogginess:
Day 2 highlights, including my spin and me being a chimp: