Laon Historique

When I first heard about the Laon Historique it instantly appealed. The thought of driving our Herald to France was an exciting prospect. Karon needed no persuading and the trip was booked before I considered the length of the journey. This would be the furthest we have travelled in our Herald by quite some margin. But the hotel was booked so by May 29^th we was of to France.

We packed the car and set of for our first destination, the Isle of Sheppey to meet up with Paul and Vie. We had a good trip down and the car was running perfectly. Next stop, Dover and the car ferry. At the ferry port it was clear that this event was going to be big. Classic cars everywhere. A sense of excitement as drivers parked up and started to tinker with there cars whilst keeping an eye on who was watching them and there prized possession. A final farewell to blighty with a Burger King in one hand and a Coca Cola in the other. The cars were loaded onto the ferry and the door squeaked shut.

The sea was flat calm and mist hung in the air. Eventually the coast of France emerged from the mist. This is it, we’re off! The ramp folded down and the decks echoed to the sound of sport cars revving their engines. Down the ramp and into the sun light, the mist had cleared to reveal beautiful blue skies. I stuck close to the back of Paul’s TR6 weaving past camper vans and lorries until, he was gone. Where did he go? I looked around to catch sight of the back of a TR6 heading of in another direction. I had gone the wrong way less than a mile into France. We were lost. A record even for me. Like all good drivers I instantly blamed my passenger. Why wasn’t you looking where he was going? I can’t believe you have got us lost! Eventually we found our way back to the road we thought to be the right one. By this time it was deserted , nothing in front or behind just us. My plan to follow Paul and not bother to prepare my own route was in taters. Fingers crossed we pressed on until in the distance the familiar sight of a TR6 appeared. We sat at a steady 60mph munching our way thought a packet of Jelly Babies. Adam, Karon shall we stop for lunch? It was Vie on our two way radio. We pulled over at a little park along side the motorway. Paul put the kettle on the camping stove just as an MG rolled into the car park. It spluttered, back fired and stopped. We all sat smirking. Well it is an MG after all.

We arrived at the out skirts of Laon. We drove around the town looking for our hotel just as our Herald started to cough and splutter. At every red traffic light it would conk out. Suddenly I was not so smug. Eventually we found the hotel and I set to with my own brand of Triumph repairs. Open the bonnet, stare at the engine and scratch my head.

Clearly this was not as pointless as it may seem because by the next morning the Herald was back on form. We arrived at the check point to register our entry and this time it was Paul’s TR6 turn to play up. Clouds of steam poured out from under the bonnet. But with further investigation it appeared to be the fuse for the Kenlowe fan, a simple fix. We set out slightly stressed for the 96 mile run in the rain. The weather progressively worsened and by the end of the day we were exhausted. Back at the Hotel we decided to have steak and chips at the Buffalo Diner. It was just what we needed.

The next morning we feared the worst but the weather was fine. We cleaned the cars up from the day before and made our way to the town centre. After parking our cars in the town square we considered our next move. When in Rome, so we found a café and I tried to place our order by shouting in English with a French accent and miming drinking a cup of coffee. Probably not the most refined way but it seemed to work.

Laon Town Hall

We took the mono-rail up into the medieval town and made our way into the town hall for the mayors address. His speech was witty, fun and most of all in English. A glass of champagne and back to the cars for the run around the town. Yes that’s what we thought! But hey this is France. Zooming around the streets of Laon with the crowds cheering and waving was just so much fun and an unforgettable day. We retired back to the café for a last latte and back to the hotel.

The next morning the rain was back and it was time to head home. We took the back route to see some of the villages along the way. We stopped of at a 1^st world war cemetery. One of so many in this region. The rain briefly stopped. The air was damp and still. The grave stones stood in a perfect line in the immaculate lawn with the most beautiful flowers growing around each one.

Adam