I.
Le Mans is located in the region of Pays de la Loire in northwestern France, 184 kilometers southwest of Paris. The village of Mulsanne, situated at the end of the straight of the same name, is home to 5,295 people called Mulsannais. Across from the Church of Sainte Madeleine, a very old man with white stubble is sitting on a plastic folding chair in front of his house. He was a child when the German prisoners of war were brought here to the nearby camp. And it was about the time of his first love when he saw black smoke rising into the sky at 6:26 p.m. on June 11, 1955. Pierre Levegh (a Frenchman of all people!) had crashed into the crowd at the start-and-finish straight in his Mercedes 300 SLR after colliding with the Austin-Healey driven by British racer Lance Macklin. The car exploded, killing Levegh and eighty-three (!) spectators. The accident was triggered by fellow Brit Mike Hawthorne, who had suddenly braked in front of Macklin to turn into the pit lane. The old Mulsannais says in a weak voice: “The fire and all the dead, it was like the war all over again.”
II.
The race is not as dangerous as it used to be. The last fatality ten years ago was Danish racing driver Allan Simonsen, thirty-four years old. Accelerating out of the Tertre Rouge, Simonsen lost control of his Aston Martin Vantage and hit the crash barriers, the force of the impact ripping out the passenger door. Otherwise, the car did not look badly damaged. There was a tree directly behind the barrier that prevented it from deforming. Simonsen was responsive after the accident, but died a short time later from cardiac arrest. The Tertre Rouge, a right-hand corner, was modified accordingly. The cars have become even safer. And the six-kilometer-long Mulsanne Straight (French: Ligne Droite des Hunaudières), where the cars had previously zoomed along at 400 km/h, was defused by two chicanes back in 1990. So the words of Viennese motorsport journalist Helmut Zwickl, written on the occasion of the death of Porsche driver Jo Gartner on June 1, 1986, as part of the best story about Le Mans of all time, no longer really apply: “Death at Le Mans comes slowly. It has twenty-four hours at its disposal. Death at Le Mans is called cancer. Material cancer. First a few metastases that nobody notices. They grow and spread deep down in the material, nourished by the vibrations and centrifugal forces. You’re lost long before you know it, and it’s a good thing that you don’t.”