Transcription
The invention of the automobile predates the invention of the airplane by just 17 years, which many may find surprising. After all, driving is far more simple than flying, so it stands to reason that we should have figured out one long before the other. But as it turns out, these two things have always been a lot closer than you'd expect.
Officially, the first motor vehicle was patented by Carl Benz in 1886. It sold for the equivalent of $5,000 and, at a top speed of 10 mph, this humble contraption would usher in the automotive world we know today. And as soon as we had cars, it was only a matter of time before we started racing them.
One of the pioneers of motorsport was a man by the name of Wilhelm Bauer, who would test drive vehicles for a German automaker, DMG. On March 30th, 1900, Bauer was slated to race the company's new Phoenix model at the Turby hill climb in France. However, in the first corner, he lost control and suffered a fatal accident. By most accounts, Wilhelm Bauer had become the very first death in motorsports.
It would be the last time the Phoenix ever raced. However, out of the ashes of the tragedy, DMG executive Emil Jellinek would improve upon his initial design. Over the next few months, he oversaw the development of a revolutionary new model. Unlike the horseless carriages that preceded it, this vehicle would be the first to truly resemble the cars of today.
During the production process, Jellinek decided to title the model after his 11-year-old daughter. As fate would have it, this unsuspecting girl would forever be intertwined with the longest-running car brand in the world. Her name was Mercedes.
In the following years, the new model would dazzle the automotive industry, becoming popular with many of the most powerful people on the planet. Its meteoric success would turn DMG into a commercial juggernaut. In 1926, they would merge with Carl Benz's company to solidify the present-day nomenclature of Mercedes-Benz.
By this point, the temperament of Germany had changed considerably. The car brand, which had originally shared its name with a Jewish child, would soon become the favorite of one Adolf Hitler. By the Second World War, Mercedes had to momentarily divert their resources away from car production, as their focus shifted from the road to the skies. Daimler-Benz would be one of several companies commissioned by the Third Reich to construct engines for German fighter jets. Mercedes' horsepower would be instrumental in the Blitzkrieg, which terrorized Europe for more than half a decade.
All of a sudden, what was once a simple luxury car brand had fallen into an insidious fate. To satisfy the enormous demands of wartime production, the company would resort to using forced labor, much of which came directly from concentration camps. When it was all said and done, the rest of the world had discovered a powerful omen: when Mercedes start flying, it's usually a sign that something has gone seriously wrong.
Officially, the Germans surrendered in May of 1945. However, in many aspects, the war never really ended; it had simply moved to a new battleground. By the 1950s, the Germans and English had taken the fight to the racetrack, and out of all the venues in motorsports, none was more prestigious than Le Mans.
Since the birth of auto racing, France's premier endurance event has stood as the ultimate test of man and machine. For 24 hours, competitors must navigate the high-speed circuit, a process made especially challenging by the 3-mile long Mulsanne Straight. The section is one of the fastest parts of any course in the world. Ordinarily a public highway, the road surface is bumpy and abrasive, placing tremendous strain on engines as vehicles approach their top speed. In order to win at Le Mans, race teams must strike a delicate balance between performance and longevity. This unique test of engineering skill would attract the industry's top manufacturers.
By the 1950s, Mercedes had established itself as one of the teams to beat with their iconic Silver Arrow. They spent the early part of the decade trading wins with Jaguar and Ferrari, who had entered into an automotive arms race. By 1955, the rivalry would reach its breaking point. Years of rapid innovation had contributed to higher top speeds than ever before, beyond what the existing infrastructure was designed to support.
An hour into the race, Jaguar driver Mike Hawthorn set the lap record for the circuit. Just moments later, he would instigate the biggest disaster in racing history. On the 35th lap, Hawthorn slowed abruptly to begin his pit cycle, forcing Austin-Healey driver Lance Macklin to swerve around him. In the commotion, Mercedes driver Pierre Levegh collided with Macklin, launching his vehicle airborne at over 120 mph directly into the crowd. And just like that, a Mercedes was flying again.
In 1955, there was no fence protecting the grandstands at Le Mans. Debris from Levegh's disintegrating car blasted the spectators at full force. In the blink of an eye, more than 80 people had perished. The world of motorsports had arrived at its Armageddon, and Mercedes found itself at ground zero.
Unbelievably, the race was not stopped. Crews gradually cleaned up the track as drivers continued to blow past at full speed. By now, Levegh's demolished car had burst into flames. The fire department was unable to extinguish the magnesium chassis, which just sat there burning for hours. Lap after lap, Mercedes' remaining entry had to drive past the hellish remains of its mirror image.
It's hard to say when exactly Europe moved on from the Second World War, but it was clear at this point that Germany's greatest manufacturer still had some sort of cosmic debt to pay. As night fell, Mercedes had taken the lead, and the gruesome details of the tragedy began to emerge. After hours of witnessing the same unnerving display, the team had seen enough. When the clock struck midnight, the race director decided not to tempt fate any further. Mercedes withdrew from the race, just 12 hours from victory.
The decision effectively handed the win to Jaguar, as Mike Hawthorn, the driver who started this whole chain of events, hoisted the trophy the next afternoon. The aftermath that followed would not be so joyous. The tragedy prompted an immediate ban on motorsports across most of Europe, some of which remained in place until just 2 years ago. To this day, auto racing has never seen another disaster like it.
Following months of government investigation, no one in particular could be found at fault. Hoping to appease whatever vengeful spirit they had angered, Mercedes would not return to Le Mans for the foreseeable future. And as for Mike Hawthorn, the curse of that dark day would eventually catch up to him. Just 4 years later, he was fatally injured in a road accident, losing control of his Jaguar while attempting to pass a Mercedes.
As the years went on, racing eventually returned. Le Mans received some much-needed safety improvements, and the cars that raced there went from looking like this to this. As our understanding of aerodynamics improved, the speeds crept higher and higher. All the while, Mercedes watched from the sidelines. They saw numerous racing dynasties come and go, from Ferrari to Ford to the most dominant of all, Porsche.
Maybe it was all that glory from a national rival that enticed them to get back into the fight. Maybe it was a new generation of leadership who had forgotten the superstition of the past. Either way, Mercedes decided the time had come to return to Le Mans. They just couldn't stay away. This time, however, they didn't go in alone.
Before committing to a full factory team, they would have to completely rebuild their in-house racing program. In the meantime, they partnered with Swiss constructor Sauber, who would compete under the Mercedes banner. Their new model, the C8, was set to make its gallant debut at the 1985 running of Le Mans. Unfortunately, the new program got off to a rather inauspicious start.
Thirty years later, and nothing had changed. The moment Mercedes returned to Le Mans, they were once again sent airborne, although this time the circumstances of the incident were quite different. "The front end gets light and over 140 and wants to lift off and fly to Hawaii."
By the 1980s, race cars were beginning to reach unthinkable speeds, largely due to innovations in controlling downforce. As a car cuts through the air, the body can be sculpted in a way so that the resulting pressure sticks the car to the racing surface, increasing grip. However, at certain unstable orientations, downforce can be overpowered by lift, sending the car upward. Under the most extreme speeds, such as the ones at the end of the Mulsanne Straight, drivers were becoming increasingly susceptible to taking off.
For Mercedes, this new incident of terror certainly didn't bode well for their racing return. But they were able to come out of it mostly unscathed. Driver John Nielsen walked away from the wreck in one piece, and since it occurred during a practice session, it was hardly documented. Despite the rude awakening, Mercedes would carry on.
Starting in 1987, the team would debut the new and improved Sauber C9. Despite showing in promising lap times, the model struggled to stay on track. Four years into their Le Mans return, Mercedes had failed to finish a single race. But their fortunes would turn around after the return of a familiar foe. In 1988, Jaguar was victorious at Le Mans for the first time in 30 years. Perhaps this was the inspiration Mercedes needed to finally get their mojo back, because in 1989, the Silver Arrow reemerged as the class of the field.
On that day, Mercedes was unbeatable. In fact, the cars were so quick that they ushered in the end of an era. During qualifying, the Sauber C9 went just shy of 250 mph on the Mulsanne Straight. Fearing another catastrophe, the race directors determined that they had to get the speeds under control. And so, starting in 1990, a pair of chicanes were installed to interrupt the fastest part of the track. Following the layout change, Mercedes lost all of its competitive edge. Just as they had finally hit their stride, they were sent back to the drawing board.
After several more years of lackluster performance, they withdrew from Le Mans once again to focus on other racing endeavors. This time, however, they wouldn't be gone for long. After finding success in the FIA GT Championship, Mercedes decided to give it one more shot. With the millennium soon approaching, the manufacturer was closing in on their 100th year of racing, and what better way to celebrate than by capping off the century with a victory at Le Mans?
By now, Mercedes were finally ready to field a genuine factory team, so that the glory would be all theirs. Their first race back in 1998, they looked as if they hadn't skipped a beat, by qualifying on pole. The triumph was short-lived, however, as both entries would retire from the race due to mechanical issues. But no matter, the cars had already proven they were fast enough. With a few tweaks, they should be able to stay on track and cruise to victory.
In 1999, Mercedes returned to Le Mans with their pinnacle of engineering, the CLR, a machine that represented 100 years of innovation. The car had an unmistakable look, its most iconic feature being the familiar Mercedes stylization on the front end. Throughout the company's history at Le Mans, no other entry had undergone more extensive preparation. After 20,000 miles of testing, no major problems could be found. By all accounts, everything was coming together for the last hurrah of the Silver Arrow.
Entering the race weekend, Mercedes unveiled their Holy Trinity: three CLRs and three opportunities at making history. Over the next few days, the team would certainly rise to the occasion, just not in the way they had envisioned.
The first sign of trouble appeared during qualifying when the number four entry wound up total on the Indianapolis Straight. Driver Mark Webber was hospitalized, where he was treated for minor injuries. As reports of the accident emerged, it was revealed that Mercedes had once again gone airborne. Since the wreck occurred at an unpopulated part of the track, no footage was captured. For the time being, the reason for the mishap could not be determined. Was it just a freak accident, or possibly something more?
Despite the ominous turn of events, Mercedes would not be discouraged. Later in the day, they announced that they would not only remain in the race but that the number four CLR would be rebuilt in time for the main event on Saturday. Less than 48 hours after checking out of the hospital, Mark Webber was back behind the wheel. The team had worked around the clock to get the car ready, just in time for the final practice session on Saturday morning.
When the trio reunited on track, they must have been feeling pretty inspired, until it happened again. "Oh, oh, and we've got a car on its roof already. How on earth does this happen? This is amazing. This happened in the qualifying sessions. This car flipped over in qualifying, and it looks as though exactly the same thing has happened again. How on earth?"
If it wasn't already, Mercedes' little problem had now become known to the rest of the world, as television cameras caught a live view of Webber's car lying on its roof at the end of the Mulsanne Straight. The number four CLR had taken off for a second time. It was now clear that the first accident was no fluke. There was a fundamental flaw with the aerodynamics of the CLR.
As it turns out, the defect could be traced back to the car's oh-so-stylish front end. The nose of the vehicle was designed abnormally long. This excessive overhang allowed more leverage for the air to generate lift. Under extreme turbulence, such as entering the slipstream of another car, the balance of the CLR could be disrupted enough to send the whole thing flying.
Now, just a few hours until the green flag, Mercedes was in a state of pandemonium. With Webber's car destroyed once again, only two entries could continue to the race. But would it even make sense to let them? The machines were clearly hazardous, but could they really let an entire year of effort go to waste? Perhaps the contagion was limited to the four car, and the other two had nothing to worry about, despite being manufactured to the same specifications.
Ultimately, the decision came down to the drivers. While Christophe Bouchut expressed concerns about the number five car, he was overruled by the others. After all, it's a dream to race at Le Mans, but the thing about dreams is that no one is ever prepared when they turn into a nightmare. After some emergency modifications to increase downforce, the remaining CLRs rolled off the grid.
As the afternoon went on, it was cautiously smooth sailing for the Mercedes. Bouchut's concerns appeared to be assuaged, as he made it to the first driver's swap without incident. Replacing him in the five car was Peter Dumbreck, who would carry on into the evening. As dusk began to fall, Dumbreck had worked his way up to a battle for second with one of the Toyotas. When the pair entered the Indianapolis Straight, they turned to face the setting sun. With the drivers momentarily blinded, the Mercedes drew ever so close to the back of the Toyota. The rest, as they say, is history.
Some people only watch racing for the accidents, and while they're often chastised by the rest of the motorsports community for missing the point, I sort of understand the appeal. While it's easy to write off this side of racing as mindless carnage, there is something spectacular about it that speaks to us on a deeper level. In sports, there are plenty of stories about glory, but the wisest lessons are often taught by catastrophic failure. In order to truly appreciate something for its greatness, you have to witness it at its most dysfunctional. In these rare moments, the accidents tell us more than the racing ever could.
"Oh, it has gone again. There it is. It's into the trees. That is the end of Mercedes. Bitly the wrong decision to actually race."