The track hosted some famous Formula 1 events back in the '70s and it has a fantastic turn called the parabolica, which as its name suggests, is shaped like a pointy parabola. Since this is a very German series, a certain amount of the yak-yak over the P.A. was unintelligible. But the visitors from over the Rhine were quite friendly and one guy even clued me into the fact that the two-lane access road that serves the track couldn't possibly accommodate the 20,000 cars that would be leaving when the last Audi and Mercedes had done battle. Hence, I didn't see the end of the race until I logged onto DTM TV when I got back to the hotel. In a nutshell, Audi had miscalculated their setup, and as a result, they suffered multiple punctures at the end of the race. That allowed the Mercedes higher ups to gloat rather obnoxiously during the post-race interviews, but it also underscored how Audi managed to get blown away at Le Mans this year. The same engineering ubermensch is in charge of that program, and he totally misjudged the quality of Peugeot's entries this year.
In any case, since the Dutch ticket broker I used didn't come through with an actual seat, I was forced to buy a last-minute standing area ticket at the track. In most places, that would have meant I could wander anywhere on the grounds save for the actual stands (or tribunes as they call them in France). The DTM and Dijon-Prenois had different rules, however, and the standing area was anywhere on the infield of the track that didn't include the rather large paddock. That meant a lot of walking and a certain amount of jockeying for sight lines with one's fellow race fan. But it wasn't a hardship, really, and since I'd scored a half-price paddock ticket from a friendly Frenchman, I got to see all of the drivers close up when they came back to pitlane after the pre-race festivities. Consequently, I discovered that Ralf Schumacher is one of the rare celebrities that actually looks the same in person as he does on television.
As for he race itself, it appeared that everything had been decided in the first couple laps. But just after I'd slathered my enormous hot dog sandwich with the local mustard (this was Dijon, after all) and began the long march back to the rental car, Audi's Dunlops began popping like circus balloons. Should I have stayed? Probably. But the prospect of waiting two hours or more in a traffic jam out in the middle of converted cow pasture made lingering until the checkered flag a non-starter.
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