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RE: Cannonball Run Europe 2004

Tuesday 25th January 2005

Cannonball Run Europe 2004

PHer Sacha Rouchier reports on what the last Cannonball Run was really like...

121 fast cars, parties, girls and cops!

During my childhood, I dreamed of being one of the characters in the film 'Cannonball Run'. Who can forget the opening scenes, beautiful cars, beautiful women running from the cops, and driving fast?

So when I got the chance to go on Cannonball Run Europe 2004, I couldn't say no. After months of preparation, the car needed servicing -- living in Italy and owning a TVR (right) means a return journey to the UK -- and then there was all the equipment including cameras, tools -- it is a TVR after all -- and maps (if we had only learnt to read them as well).

Finally, the day of reckoning arrived. The nerves and excitement were very intimidating.

Through PistonHeads, I had met Dave, another Cannonballer. He too owned a TVR so we arranged to meet near Reading and drive in convoy through London to the docks, where the Run was starting.

Once at the docks, the show started with a group of stunt bikes that had come in for some of the filming of the DVD. After the signing in, the evening started with a champagne reception and an introduction into the week's plans and some kind advice to "take it easy, as tomorrow is going to be a long day".

Even after the warnings, hangovers could be seen all over the place on the Sunday morning, but were easily washed away with a coffee and greasy burger van food. It was a funny sight that morning, as many had woken early due to nerves but the run only started at 2pm. After photo shoots of all the cars. the big moment arrived.

We began with a Le Mans-style rolling start, driving up to the line, picking up our mission -- everyone gets a brief -- and racing off under the watchful eyes of the crowd. Our brief found us on our way to the south west of France -- Perpignan to be exact. It was 780 miles away but since the Run officially starts when the boat doors open at Calais, the drive to Dover was our last leisurely drive for the next week. The ferry crossing was used by most as the last chance for a rest as it heaved into Calais at 11.30pm.

Once docked at Calais, the atmosphere grew tense. Imagine 121 cars nervously sitting in the boat, horns bellowing and engines revving. Never have I felt so much adrenalin pumping through my body and such an awesome noise.

It didn’t last long. The doors of the ferry opened and we were off. Most were hesitant as rumours were flying that the film crew had already been caught speeding, but it was soon apparent that at, the time of day we were driving, we were the only people on the road.

First day

The route was well planned, as we descended towards Paris and then down towards Perpignan. The first part took in the motorways with little police activity and large stretches of open and empty road. In the TVR, we were cruising nicely at around 120mph, and keeping to a nice 100mph average including stops unlike the rumoured 190mph of the Gallardo.

This soon ended as the route left the autoroute. Visiting checkpoints along the way, we had a fun dawn as we caught up with the Noble and followed it up some beautiful mountain roads, with the descent taking in a motorway as the sun rose.

It was a sunrise to remember. My navigator Simon started to feel the strain of the night before, as we took wrong turns and found ourselves lost. Time started to slip away. In the end though we arrived at our allotted arrival slot in Plage des Argeles at around 9am. After an hour of chatting and gossip, the next mission was given to us: the destination was Benidorm, 450 miles away.

The cops intervene

The first part of the mission took us over the border into Spain on small roads that later joined the motorway down towards Barcelona. We decided as we joined the motorway to stop for a quick rest but, as we awoke to drive on, we found a police car closely inspecting us before driving off.

We continued but less than 20 miles down the road, I noticed the organiser's Lamborghini parked out in a lay-by -- which was strange as we knew he was going directly from Calais to Benidorm. Quickly pulling over and reversing back, we found Tim nervous with the news that two miles down the road, the police were pulling all Cannonballers over.

As we hid the cars under some trees, news filtered through that we would be all pulled over even if we hadn’t been speeding. We heard too that they had three helicopters on the look out for us, as some discovered when they left the motorway and a helicopter decided to land in front of them. Our cars were hidden, so we took to the side of the road to try and flag over as many cars as we could. Unluckily, most thought we were just waving at them and of the 20 odd cars that passed us, only three pulled over.

Tim decided that it was time to take the stickers off. Just as we finished, two police cars pulled into the lay-by and blocked us in. In each car were four police officers who proceeded to take our documents off us and zoomed off into the distance. After an hour's wait, they returned saying that they knew who we were and that, if we were seen exceeding the speed limit even by one kph we would be arrested.

Tails between our legs, we proceeded, rarely exceeding 100 kph. Five hours later, we arrived in Benidorm thinking we would be the last there only to find the checkpoint girls cheering us. We were the fifth car to arrive -- the rest were still in a jail somewhere near Barcelona. They started to trickle in at around midnight, the last ones arriving after six in the morning. I stayed up cheering on the others as they arrived late into the night/morning and finally got to bed around seven. In the morning.

Second day

The next day was one of mixed feelings -- hardly surprising, as all but a few had been fined between 350 and 1100 euros. As the day went on, emotions turned into a realisation of the fun it had actually given us.

Many decided to take the day off, others went to the track for some fun. Simon and I decided not to go, firstly we had driven the car hard the previous day, but also because I knew if I took my car on the track I wouldn't have any tyres left. In the evening, a party was organised and many brought their cars into the centre, where many locals, who had seen all the commotion on the news, turned out to see the cars. It was an awesome night again and yet again, ended around six in the morning.

The following day, the mission was to drive to Andorra. Unlike the other missions, the organisers advised us that we could take any route we liked as the Spanish police were still on high alert would be likely to make life difficult. We soon found this out as along the first stretch of motorway. Every car was pulled over for a check, which took at least 30 minutes as they pored over our cars and papers. The police themselves were very friendly and took many pictures of the cars.

As we peeled off the motorway just south of Barcelona, we met up with a group of Cannonballers who had had word of a police road block and speed traps further up the road, which our circuitous route had avoided. We heard too they were issuing fines for the slightest offence, such as wheels crossing a solid white line.

The group found a different route inland, discovering some of the most beautiful driving roads, but soon had to stop for fuel. After the 15 cars refuelled we moved on, only to be stopped by another policeman who claimed that two of us had not paid for fuel. One was a BMW M3, the other a Porsche GT2, apparently, which fitted the profile of our group. After keeping us hanging around for half an hour, he agreed that we were not the miscreants -- just an excuse to stop us then.

We finally arrived at our beautiful Andorran hotel resort at around 9.30pm. Despite its excellent food and entertainment, I decided to go to bed early -- 2.30am -- as more driving was in store the following day.

Third day

We awoke to beautiful sunshine, immediately putting us in a good frame of mind. The mission for the day was a 600-mile drive up to the north east of Paris, to a hotel next to Charles de Gaulle airport. We left in convoy with Simon and Matt in the 911 4S. The route took us over the Pyrenees mountains back into France, where we rejoined the motorway and pointed the cars' noses north. À Paris!

On the motorway we encountered and joined another convoy, cruising at a steady 100mph -- apart from the occasional joust with other cars such as the Supra, GT2 and M3s. Around 150 miles from Paris, the film crew's Range Rover caught us, along with the Lamborghini Gallardo that we played with all the way to Paris. During our play, I realised that the only cars much quicker than the TVR were the GT2 and the German Supra.

We managed to get lost trying to find the hotel. After the Lambo's satnav took us in the wrong direction, I decided to stop at the police station for directions, The very friendly lady there didn't know where to start on how to explain to get to the hotel, and after some pleading (luckily I am fluent in French), I managed to convince them to give us an escort to the hotel!

What a nice change to have the police on our side! We got to the hotel to find many were off to the centre of Paris to the Buddha Bar, so we joined them for a night that didn't finish until 7am.

Fourth day

The final run took us into Belgium for lunch, then back to Calais for a ferry back to the UK. Having slept through our alarm clock, Simon and I decided to head directly for Calais. We weren't the only ones with this idea, so we convoyed with a 996 turbo and Diablo all the way. The Diablo for once was taking it slowly as the previous day one of the drivers had his licence confiscated for a mere 115mph. The drive was fun and allowed us to get some good filming in. When we arrived at Calais, many cars had done the same and we ended up taking a earlier ferry.

When we arrived back at our UK hotel, it was nice to find a proper finish line with the film crews waiting to interview us and the champagne as we got out the car. The evening was surrounded by an air of sadness, as we all started to realise that this incredible week was over, but at the same time a feeling of relief that we had made it in one piece. The winners were announced -- it really could not have gone to better people: The London Loonies in the BMW M3. Considering they partied every night and been such entertainment for the other competitors, it was brilliant news.

My thoughts on this week away are that it really isn't what people expect it to be. Many complained about certain aspects of the week, but in the end all boiled down to one thing, they did not realise how demanding it would be. Not knowing the route or the countries added to the excitement, as it really was up to the teams to make it happen. I for certain will be entering again next year as it really was one of the best experiences and hardest physical test I have ever done.

As in regards to the sceptics out there who were saying before I left London that the TVR would never make it, well you were all wrong. It never missed a beat, and the only problem was an erratic speedo which was a known problem before the run but TVR was out of stock of replacements.

Finally, I want to express my thanks to Gatwick TVR for all the preparation work you did.

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