It is pouring with rain here in Spa (no surprise there then) and there are only a couple of cars trolling around out there, so it gives me time to tell you of my adventures yesterday. I went to Spa in the company of my pal Brad Spurgeon of the International Herald Tribune, another Paris-based F1 journalist. We headed north in his car and all was well until we reached Cambrai where his Ford Focus decided it was a good place to die. Luck was on our side as we rolled to a halt not only in an area where work was being done and the slow lane was closed, but also right next to one of those emergency telephone things and so we pressed the right buttons and 40 minutes later a truck arrived, scooped us up and dropped us off at the local Ford garage. It was closed for lunch. So we decided to do the same and walked into an odd little place called The Jolly Sailor, where there was indeed a jolly sailor, an Englishman who insisted on playing the piano and singing songs, in the style of Noel Coward. This rather surreal interlude was followed by a large amount of needlessly wasted time with a Ford person who had no interest in being helpful and was obviously in need of a few classes to understand that customers are what keep the Ford Motor Company in business. I’ve never had a Ford car myself and I doubt I will ever get one after that experience. In the end he deigned to serve us and we wandered off to the local Europcar to rent another vehicle. By the time we got to Spa everyone was going home… so there was not much to report. Still, at least it was a sunny day.
This morning it was back to the usual Spa of mists and rain.