24 Heures du Mans | 08:31:00
Dawn is a very special event, the first moment when those who are weary after the long, dark night's labors begin the entertain the invigorating idea that the end, if not nigh, is at least possible. The twilight feeds this sense of fatigued optimism 'til finally sunrise bursts forth & caution is thrown to the wind. The (to most persons, non-accursed) Sun! Daylight! The end is near! This is "Happy Hour," that giddy period in which anything & everything seems possible. This burst of energy, like a sugar rush, is followed by a hard crash, as the realization dawns of how profoundly tired one & all actually are—engineers, mechanics, drivers, journos, spectators. The light brings the awful truth that the night might be over, but that between nine & eight hours of hard racing lie ahead, that anything can still go wrong & very likely will, rendering all of the previous hours' exertions for naught. This sunrise is different, because a Danish flag flies at half staff over the podium in memory of Allan Simonsen, & because the sun has risen but is unseen behind a remorselessly solid ceiling of gray, threatening clouds. The rain stopped some time ago & the circuit is drying, but remains treacherous, ready to catch out the unwary or those whose concentration slips for even a moment. The end of the night brings hope to the weary souls of Le Mans, much of it false hope, but not all. A long road lies ahead, but it is shorter than the long road behind. The end is, if not in sight, at least not too far over the horizon, & with it honor & vindication.