Vol 3 Issue 6

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AND NOW FOR SOMETHING COMPLETELY DIFFERENT...

KEVIN CLEMENS discovers that driving from Peking to Paris 100 years after the famous Le Matin challenge is still the toughest motoring adventure ever

At any speed over 10 mph, the heavily rutted washboard track through the southern Mongolian desert threatens to tear the body and frame of our car apart. We are already traveling with a broken right rear leaf spring, a cracked radiator and a fractured engine mount that has been chained together to keep the engine from sitting directly on the front cross member. We are down to one-wheel steering, as our bodged-together tie-rod end has failed for the fifth or sixth time. We are just 10 days into the 35-day Peking to Paris rally but at least our 1929 Chrysler Model 75 Roadster is still moving. We pass other competitors stranded in the desert awaiting the arrival of a truck large enough to remove their stricken cars from the 115-degree inferno. Some will wait more than 40 hours for help to arrive.

How Did We Get Here?

In the early years of the 20th century, when cars were still new, nobody was quite sure what they could do. Speeds in excess of 100 mph had already been attained, but travel more than 50 miles from home was a risky proposition. So when the French newspaper Le Matin proposed for 1907 a race across two continents—from Peking in China to Paris in France—at first blush it appeared to be an impossible task. Still, on the June 10, 1907, five cars left Peking, heading for Paris. The favorite was Italian Prince Scipione Borghese, accompanied by his mechanic Ettore Guizzardi and an Italian journalist named Luigi Barzini.

On August 10th, after traveling more than 8,000 miles across China, Mongolia, Siberia, Russia and Europe, their 40-horsepower Itala rolled into Paris, winners of this extraordinary race. Barzini’s book “Peking to Paris” became an international bestseller and was published in more than a dozen languages. Four of the five cars that left Peking, eventually made it to the finish in Paris, the last arriving weeks after Borghese’s Itala.

In 1997, the Classic Rally Association (CRA) in England recreated the original Peking to Paris race with a Motoring Challenge for classic cars built before 1968. This route went across the Himalayas and through Afghanistan and Iran. It was a huge success and prompted the CRA to announce a 100th anniversary version of the original race, this time following more closely the original 1907 route through Mongolia and Siberia.

100 Years Later

To most people, old cars are quaint relics from the past, suitable for weekend drives to the local car show. The idea that a 60-, 70- or 80-year-old car could be driven day after day, for more than a month, crossing steep mountain passes, across trackless deserts and through rivers might seem insane.

The start of the 2007 Peking to Paris Motor Challenge saw 129 competitors ready to leave Beijing with the goal of reaching Paris. The variety of vehicles was staggering. There were 17 cars in the Pioneer Category for cars built before 1921. The oldest car was a 1903 Mercedes 60HP, entered by Tim Scott and John Taylor from England. There were two 1907 Itala 40HP models, similar in every way to Borghese’s winning machine. The pre-1941 Vintageant category saw 76 entries, including a phalanx of Bentley models, several Chryslers Buicks and three formidable Chevrolet Fangio Coupes. The smallest car in this group was a tiny 1934 Singer Le Mans sports car with a tiny 900cc engine entered by Wilhelmus Van Gemert and John De Swart, both from Holland. The classic category had 36 cars built before 1968 competing and included everything from an Alfa Romeo and several Citroëns to Bentleys, Mercedes-Benzes and Volvos. The official start took place at the Great Wall of China amid colorful swirling paper dragons and a corps of children drummers.

On the Road

Driving through China and to the edges of the Gobi desert was easy. The rally started gently and a stop at the famous Hanging Monastery at Hunyuan reminded us that away from Beijing, tourism is just getting started in China.

Roads varied from busy truck-choked main highways to delightfully empty two-lane asphalt roads that felt more like Italy than Asia. All of this was to change as soon as the rally crossed the border into Mongolia.

On the first timed Special Test, more than 30 cars failed to reach the campsite at the end of the day. Some had difficulty with the GPS navigation, needed to determine which of the hundreds of tracks across the desert was the right one to keep on course. Others had mechanical breakdowns as the sand and rocks provided the first real test of suspension systems and ground clearance. To make matters worse, a huge sandstorm blew in, reducing visibility to less than ten feet; eventually one group of competitors decided to camp together out on the course rather than risk trying to make it into the official campsite. Fortunately, this brief trip into the desert was followed by a day’s drive to Ulaan Bataar, the capital of Mongolia and its only major city where a rest day allowed teams to repair their ravaged cars.

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With Mongolia came exotic and challenging adventure; like the yurts in the top photo. It also introduced the most challenged teams to a fine culture of civility and genuine help: The shop above made repairs with what they had. The author’s Chrysler was an ongoing series of failures.
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