Le Mans 24 Hours update: Toyota lead frantic LMP1 battle

Midnight at the 24 Hours of Le Mans. Darkness has descended, everything just got a little bit harder and with 13 hours left until the chequered flag (six of those with the lights out) there's still an awfully long way to go. 

The headlines are this: through the late evening it's been a largely incident-free race, but far from dull as all the main protagonists are right where we want them. At the very head of the pack, Toyota and Porsche have been going blow for blow, with Webber and Kobayashi swapping first and second places as the crowd were treated to a track drenched in low, golden sunlight. 

And then, around 23.15, the #1 Porsche came into the pits. It's currently up on four-foot jacks with a diagnosis pending, leaving Toyota's #6 car to pull out a near two minute lead on the #2 Porsche. Question is, where's Audi? Well, trundling around in fourth now with it's other, repaired car a long way back, and showing few signs of troubling the Toyotas or Porsches for outright pace. 

Meanwhile, in the other race within a race, Ford and Ferrari are playing out a fitting tribute to the 1966 contest in the GTE Pro class. Currently, it's Ford-Ferrari-Ford, with a scant few seconds between the top two. Incredible stuff. If they can make it through the night unscathed, this could go all the way to the wire.

But just what is it like driving around here at night? Terrifying, presumably, but to be sure we cornered Richard Attwood who drove to Porsche's first ever Le Mans win in 1970 in a 917K. LMP1 drivers, if you're about to embark on a double stint, listen up.

"By the time it gets dark all the drivers in the race have had a go, so the slow cars knew to look out for us. I never drove a slow car so I only had to look ahead, that's much easier than constantly looking in your mirrors."

So you need to drive a very fast car. Simple. Anything else? "Your vision is narrowed and you know where the road goes, so in some ways, it's easier. The air's cooler at night, too. We call it the happy hour when the damp acts like water injection. I'd need to check, but we probably set our quickest times at night."

Makes it sound easy, doesn't he? It's not. I mention the 1969 race where he broke down with gearbox trouble three hours before the finish, six laps in the lead. "I was elated when it happened. We were doing double stints and after two hours my neck was in agony, I had a headache and the aerodynamics were atrocious. I was ready to stop."

We know the drivers have it a little easier these days, what with air conditioning and aerodynamics that actually work, but there is still nothing sanitised about this monster of a race. Standing on the inside of Arnage for an hour, metres from the cars as they dive up the inside of each other, lock up the brakes and take off flat out towards the Porsche Curves, it's clear every single one, regardless of class, isn't being nursed to the finish line, they're being thrashed. Constantly. For 24 hours. 

It's the sound of each car that really shape your favourites out there. You just can't help it. Right now I'm a little bit in love with the thuggish wallop of the Corvette's V8, but I'm thinking the whisper-quiet Audi R18 e-Tron will become more appealing when I try to snatch an hour or two's sleep. If I can take my eye off the action, that is. 

Midnight at the 24 Hours of Le Mans. Darkness has descended, everything just got a little bit harder and with 13 hours left until the chequered flag (six of those with the lights out) there's still an awfully long way to go. 

The headlines are this: through the late evening it's been a largely incident-free race, but far from dull as all the main protagonists are right where we want them. At the very head of the pack, Toyota and Porsche have been going blow for blow, with Webber and Kobayashi swapping first and second places as the crowd were treated to a track drenched in low, golden sunlight. 

And then, around 23.15, the #1 Porsche came into the pits. It's currently up on four-foot jacks with a diagnosis pending, leaving Toyota's #6 car to pull out a near two minute lead on the #2 Porsche. Question is, where's Audi? Well, trundling around in fourth now with it's other, repaired car a long way back, and showing few signs of troubling the Toyotas or Porsches for outright pace. 

Meanwhile, in the other race within a race, Ford and Ferrari are playing out a fitting tribute to the 1966 contest in the GTE Pro class. Currently, it's Ford-Ferrari-Ford, with a scant few seconds between the top two. Incredible stuff. If they can make it through the night unscathed, this could go all the way to the wire.

But just what is it like driving around here at night? Terrifying, presumably, but to be sure we cornered Richard Attwood who drove to Porsche's first ever Le Mans win in 1970 in a 917K. LMP1 drivers, if you're about to embark on a double stint, listen up.

"By the time it gets dark all the drivers in the race have had a go, so the slow cars knew to look out for us. I never drove a slow car so I only had to look ahead, that's much easier than constantly looking in your mirrors."

So you need to drive a very fast car. Simple. Anything else? "Your vision is narrowed and you know where the road goes, so in some ways, it's easier. The air's cooler at night, too. We call it the happy hour when the damp acts like water injection. I'd need to check, but we probably set our quickest times at night."

Makes it sound easy, doesn't he? It's not. I mention the 1969 race where he broke down with gearbox trouble three hours before the finish, six laps in the lead. "I was elated when it happened. We were doing double stints and after two hours my neck was in agony, I had a headache and the aerodynamics were atrocious. I was ready to stop."

We know the drivers have it a little easier these days, what with air conditioning and aerodynamics that actually work, but there is still nothing sanitised about this monster of a race. Standing on the inside of Arnage for an hour, metres from the cars as they dive up the inside of each other, lock up the brakes and take off flat out towards the Porsche Curves, it's clear every single one, regardless of class, isn't being nursed to the finish line, they're being thrashed. Constantly. For 24 hours. 

It's the sound of each car that really shape your favourites out there. You just can't help it. Right now I'm a little bit in love with the thuggish wallop of the Corvette's V8, but I'm thinking the whisper-quiet Audi R18 e-Tron will become more appealing when I try to snatch an hour or two's sleep. If I can take my eye off the action, that is. 

Midnight at the 24 Hours of Le Mans. Darkness has descended, everything just got a little bit harder and with 13 hours left until the chequered flag (six of those with the lights out) there's still an awfully long way to go. 

The headlines are this: through the late evening it's been a largely incident-free race, but far from dull as all the main protagonists are right where we want them. At the very head of the pack, Toyota and Porsche have been going blow for blow, with Webber and Kobayashi swapping first and second places as the crowd were treated to a track drenched in low, golden sunlight. 

And then, around 23.15, the #1 Porsche came into the pits. It's currently up on four-foot jacks with a diagnosis pending, leaving Toyota's #6 car to pull out a near two minute lead on the #2 Porsche. Question is, where's Audi? Well, trundling around in fourth now with it's other, repaired car a long way back, and showing few signs of troubling the Toyotas or Porsches for outright pace. 

Meanwhile, in the other race within a race, Ford and Ferrari are playing out a fitting tribute to the 1966 contest in the GTE Pro class. Currently, it's Ford-Ferrari-Ford, with a scant few seconds between the top two. Incredible stuff. If they can make it through the night unscathed, this could go all the way to the wire.

But just what is it like driving around here at night? Terrifying, presumably, but to be sure we cornered Richard Attwood who drove to Porsche's first ever Le Mans win in 1970 in a 917K. LMP1 drivers, if you're about to embark on a double stint, listen up.

"By the time it gets dark all the drivers in the race have had a go, so the slow cars knew to look out for us. I never drove a slow car so I only had to look ahead, that's much easier than constantly looking in your mirrors."

So you need to drive a very fast car. Simple. Anything else? "Your vision is narrowed and you know where the road goes, so in some ways, it's easier. The air's cooler at night, too. We call it the happy hour when the damp acts like water injection. I'd need to check, but we probably set our quickest times at night."

Makes it sound easy, doesn't he? It's not. I mention the 1969 race where he broke down with gearbox trouble three hours before the finish, six laps in the lead. "I was elated when it happened. We were doing double stints and after two hours my neck was in agony, I had a headache and the aerodynamics were atrocious. I was ready to stop."

We know the drivers have it a little easier these days, what with air conditioning and aerodynamics that actually work, but there is still nothing sanitised about this monster of a race. Standing on the inside of Arnage for an hour, metres from the cars as they dive up the inside of each other, lock up the brakes and take off flat out towards the Porsche Curves, it's clear every single one, regardless of class, isn't being nursed to the finish line, they're being thrashed. Constantly. For 24 hours. 

It's the sound of each car that really shape your favourites out there. You just can't help it. Right now I'm a little bit in love with the thuggish wallop of the Corvette's V8, but I'm thinking the whisper-quiet Audi R18 e-Tron will become more appealing when I try to snatch an hour or two's sleep. If I can take my eye off the action, that is. 

Midnight at the 24 Hours of Le Mans. Darkness has descended, everything just got a little bit harder and with 13 hours left until the chequered flag (six of those with the lights out) there's still an awfully long way to go. 

The headlines are this: through the late evening it's been a largely incident-free race, but far from dull as all the main protagonists are right where we want them. At the very head of the pack, Toyota and Porsche have been going blow for blow, with Webber and Kobayashi swapping first and second places as the crowd were treated to a track drenched in low, golden sunlight. 

And then, around 23.15, the #1 Porsche came into the pits. It's currently up on four-foot jacks with a diagnosis pending, leaving Toyota's #6 car to pull out a near two minute lead on the #2 Porsche. Question is, where's Audi? Well, trundling around in fourth now with it's other, repaired car a long way back, and showing few signs of troubling the Toyotas or Porsches for outright pace. 

Meanwhile, in the other race within a race, Ford and Ferrari are playing out a fitting tribute to the 1966 contest in the GTE Pro class. Currently, it's Ford-Ferrari-Ford, with a scant few seconds between the top two. Incredible stuff. If they can make it through the night unscathed, this could go all the way to the wire.

But just what is it like driving around here at night? Terrifying, presumably, but to be sure we cornered Richard Attwood who drove to Porsche's first ever Le Mans win in 1970 in a 917K. LMP1 drivers, if you're about to embark on a double stint, listen up.

"By the time it gets dark all the drivers in the race have had a go, so the slow cars knew to look out for us. I never drove a slow car so I only had to look ahead, that's much easier than constantly looking in your mirrors."

So you need to drive a very fast car. Simple. Anything else? "Your vision is narrowed and you know where the road goes, so in some ways, it's easier. The air's cooler at night, too. We call it the happy hour when the damp acts like water injection. I'd need to check, but we probably set our quickest times at night."

Makes it sound easy, doesn't he? It's not. I mention the 1969 race where he broke down with gearbox trouble three hours before the finish, six laps in the lead. "I was elated when it happened. We were doing double stints and after two hours my neck was in agony, I had a headache and the aerodynamics were atrocious. I was ready to stop."

We know the drivers have it a little easier these days, what with air conditioning and aerodynamics that actually work, but there is still nothing sanitised about this monster of a race. Standing on the inside of Arnage for an hour, metres from the cars as they dive up the inside of each other, lock up the brakes and take off flat out towards the Porsche Curves, it's clear every single one, regardless of class, isn't being nursed to the finish line, they're being thrashed. Constantly. For 24 hours. 

It's the sound of each car that really shape your favourites out there. You just can't help it. Right now I'm a little bit in love with the thuggish wallop of the Corvette's V8, but I'm thinking the whisper-quiet Audi R18 e-Tron will become more appealing when I try to snatch an hour or two's sleep. If I can take my eye off the action, that is. 

Midnight at the 24 Hours of Le Mans. Darkness has descended, everything just got a little bit harder and with 13 hours left until the chequered flag (six of those with the lights out) there's still an awfully long way to go. 

The headlines are this: through the late evening it's been a largely incident-free race, but far from dull as all the main protagonists are right where we want them. At the very head of the pack, Toyota and Porsche have been going blow for blow, with Webber and Kobayashi swapping first and second places as the crowd were treated to a track drenched in low, golden sunlight. 

And then, around 23.15, the #1 Porsche came into the pits. It's currently up on four-foot jacks with a diagnosis pending, leaving Toyota's #6 car to pull out a near two minute lead on the #2 Porsche. Question is, where's Audi? Well, trundling around in fourth now with it's other, repaired car a long way back, and showing few signs of troubling the Toyotas or Porsches for outright pace. 

Meanwhile, in the other race within a race, Ford and Ferrari are playing out a fitting tribute to the 1966 contest in the GTE Pro class. Currently, it's Ford-Ferrari-Ford, with a scant few seconds between the top two. Incredible stuff. If they can make it through the night unscathed, this could go all the way to the wire.

But just what is it like driving around here at night? Terrifying, presumably, but to be sure we cornered Richard Attwood who drove to Porsche's first ever Le Mans win in 1970 in a 917K. LMP1 drivers, if you're about to embark on a double stint, listen up.

"By the time it gets dark all the drivers in the race have had a go, so the slow cars knew to look out for us. I never drove a slow car so I only had to look ahead, that's much easier than constantly looking in your mirrors."

So you need to drive a very fast car. Simple. Anything else? "Your vision is narrowed and you know where the road goes, so in some ways, it's easier. The air's cooler at night, too. We call it the happy hour when the damp acts like water injection. I'd need to check, but we probably set our quickest times at night."

Makes it sound easy, doesn't he? It's not. I mention the 1969 race where he broke down with gearbox trouble three hours before the finish, six laps in the lead. "I was elated when it happened. We were doing double stints and after two hours my neck was in agony, I had a headache and the aerodynamics were atrocious. I was ready to stop."

We know the drivers have it a little easier these days, what with air conditioning and aerodynamics that actually work, but there is still nothing sanitised about this monster of a race. Standing on the inside of Arnage for an hour, metres from the cars as they dive up the inside of each other, lock up the brakes and take off flat out towards the Porsche Curves, it's clear every single one, regardless of class, isn't being nursed to the finish line, they're being thrashed. Constantly. For 24 hours. 

It's the sound of each car that really shape your favourites out there. You just can't help it. Right now I'm a little bit in love with the thuggish wallop of the Corvette's V8, but I'm thinking the whisper-quiet Audi R18 e-Tron will become more appealing when I try to snatch an hour or two's sleep. If I can take my eye off the action, that is. 

Midnight at the 24 Hours of Le Mans. Darkness has descended, everything just got a little bit harder and with 13 hours left until the chequered flag (six of those with the lights out) there's still an awfully long way to go. 

The headlines are this: through the late evening it's been a largely incident-free race, but far from dull as all the main protagonists are right where we want them. At the very head of the pack, Toyota and Porsche have been going blow for blow, with Webber and Kobayashi swapping first and second places as the crowd were treated to a track drenched in low, golden sunlight. 

And then, around 23.15, the #1 Porsche came into the pits. It's currently up on four-foot jacks with a diagnosis pending, leaving Toyota's #6 car to pull out a near two minute lead on the #2 Porsche. Question is, where's Audi? Well, trundling around in fourth now with it's other, repaired car a long way back, and showing few signs of troubling the Toyotas or Porsches for outright pace. 

Meanwhile, in the other race within a race, Ford and Ferrari are playing out a fitting tribute to the 1966 contest in the GTE Pro class. Currently, it's Ford-Ferrari-Ford, with a scant few seconds between the top two. Incredible stuff. If they can make it through the night unscathed, this could go all the way to the wire.

But just what is it like driving around here at night? Terrifying, presumably, but to be sure we cornered Richard Attwood who drove to Porsche's first ever Le Mans win in 1970 in a 917K. LMP1 drivers, if you're about to embark on a double stint, listen up.

"By the time it gets dark all the drivers in the race have had a go, so the slow cars knew to look out for us. I never drove a slow car so I only had to look ahead, that's much easier than constantly looking in your mirrors."

So you need to drive a very fast car. Simple. Anything else? "Your vision is narrowed and you know where the road goes, so in some ways, it's easier. The air's cooler at night, too. We call it the happy hour when the damp acts like water injection. I'd need to check, but we probably set our quickest times at night."

Makes it sound easy, doesn't he? It's not. I mention the 1969 race where he broke down with gearbox trouble three hours before the finish, six laps in the lead. "I was elated when it happened. We were doing double stints and after two hours my neck was in agony, I had a headache and the aerodynamics were atrocious. I was ready to stop."

We know the drivers have it a little easier these days, what with air conditioning and aerodynamics that actually work, but there is still nothing sanitised about this monster of a race. Standing on the inside of Arnage for an hour, metres from the cars as they dive up the inside of each other, lock up the brakes and take off flat out towards the Porsche Curves, it's clear every single one, regardless of class, isn't being nursed to the finish line, they're being thrashed. Constantly. For 24 hours. 

It's the sound of each car that really shape your favourites out there. You just can't help it. Right now I'm a little bit in love with the thuggish wallop of the Corvette's V8, but I'm thinking the whisper-quiet Audi R18 e-Tron will become more appealing when I try to snatch an hour or two's sleep. If I can take my eye off the action, that is. 

Midnight at the 24 Hours of Le Mans. Darkness has descended, everything just got a little bit harder and with 13 hours left until the chequered flag (six of those with the lights out) there's still an awfully long way to go. 

The headlines are this: through the late evening it's been a largely incident-free race, but far from dull as all the main protagonists are right where we want them. At the very head of the pack, Toyota and Porsche have been going blow for blow, with Webber and Kobayashi swapping first and second places as the crowd were treated to a track drenched in low, golden sunlight. 

And then, around 23.15, the #1 Porsche came into the pits. It's currently up on four-foot jacks with a diagnosis pending, leaving Toyota's #6 car to pull out a near two minute lead on the #2 Porsche. Question is, where's Audi? Well, trundling around in fourth now with it's other, repaired car a long way back, and showing few signs of troubling the Toyotas or Porsches for outright pace. 

Meanwhile, in the other race within a race, Ford and Ferrari are playing out a fitting tribute to the 1966 contest in the GTE Pro class. Currently, it's Ford-Ferrari-Ford, with a scant few seconds between the top two. Incredible stuff. If they can make it through the night unscathed, this could go all the way to the wire.

But just what is it like driving around here at night? Terrifying, presumably, but to be sure we cornered Richard Attwood who drove to Porsche's first ever Le Mans win in 1970 in a 917K. LMP1 drivers, if you're about to embark on a double stint, listen up.

"By the time it gets dark all the drivers in the race have had a go, so the slow cars knew to look out for us. I never drove a slow car so I only had to look ahead, that's much easier than constantly looking in your mirrors."

So you need to drive a very fast car. Simple. Anything else? "Your vision is narrowed and you know where the road goes, so in some ways, it's easier. The air's cooler at night, too. We call it the happy hour when the damp acts like water injection. I'd need to check, but we probably set our quickest times at night."

Makes it sound easy, doesn't he? It's not. I mention the 1969 race where he broke down with gearbox trouble three hours before the finish, six laps in the lead. "I was elated when it happened. We were doing double stints and after two hours my neck was in agony, I had a headache and the aerodynamics were atrocious. I was ready to stop."

We know the drivers have it a little easier these days, what with air conditioning and aerodynamics that actually work, but there is still nothing sanitised about this monster of a race. Standing on the inside of Arnage for an hour, metres from the cars as they dive up the inside of each other, lock up the brakes and take off flat out towards the Porsche Curves, it's clear every single one, regardless of class, isn't being nursed to the finish line, they're being thrashed. Constantly. For 24 hours. 

It's the sound of each car that really shape your favourites out there. You just can't help it. Right now I'm a little bit in love with the thuggish wallop of the Corvette's V8, but I'm thinking the whisper-quiet Audi R18 e-Tron will become more appealing when I try to snatch an hour or two's sleep. If I can take my eye off the action, that is. 

Midnight at the 24 Hours of Le Mans. Darkness has descended, everything just got a little bit harder and with 13 hours left until the chequered flag (six of those with the lights out) there's still an awfully long way to go. 

The headlines are this: through the late evening it's been a largely incident-free race, but far from dull as all the main protagonists are right where we want them. At the very head of the pack, Toyota and Porsche have been going blow for blow, with Webber and Kobayashi swapping first and second places as the crowd were treated to a track drenched in low, golden sunlight. 

And then, around 23.15, the #1 Porsche came into the pits. It's currently up on four-foot jacks with a diagnosis pending, leaving Toyota's #6 car to pull out a near two minute lead on the #2 Porsche. Question is, where's Audi? Well, trundling around in fourth now with it's other, repaired car a long way back, and showing few signs of troubling the Toyotas or Porsches for outright pace. 

Meanwhile, in the other race within a race, Ford and Ferrari are playing out a fitting tribute to the 1966 contest in the GTE Pro class. Currently, it's Ford-Ferrari-Ford, with a scant few seconds between the top two. Incredible stuff. If they can make it through the night unscathed, this could go all the way to the wire.

But just what is it like driving around here at night? Terrifying, presumably, but to be sure we cornered Richard Attwood who drove to Porsche's first ever Le Mans win in 1970 in a 917K. LMP1 drivers, if you're about to embark on a double stint, listen up.

"By the time it gets dark all the drivers in the race have had a go, so the slow cars knew to look out for us. I never drove a slow car so I only had to look ahead, that's much easier than constantly looking in your mirrors."

So you need to drive a very fast car. Simple. Anything else? "Your vision is narrowed and you know where the road goes, so in some ways, it's easier. The air's cooler at night, too. We call it the happy hour when the damp acts like water injection. I'd need to check, but we probably set our quickest times at night."

Makes it sound easy, doesn't he? It's not. I mention the 1969 race where he broke down with gearbox trouble three hours before the finish, six laps in the lead. "I was elated when it happened. We were doing double stints and after two hours my neck was in agony, I had a headache and the aerodynamics were atrocious. I was ready to stop."

We know the drivers have it a little easier these days, what with air conditioning and aerodynamics that actually work, but there is still nothing sanitised about this monster of a race. Standing on the inside of Arnage for an hour, metres from the cars as they dive up the inside of each other, lock up the brakes and take off flat out towards the Porsche Curves, it's clear every single one, regardless of class, isn't being nursed to the finish line, they're being thrashed. Constantly. For 24 hours. 

It's the sound of each car that really shape your favourites out there. You just can't help it. Right now I'm a little bit in love with the thuggish wallop of the Corvette's V8, but I'm thinking the whisper-quiet Audi R18 e-Tron will become more appealing when I try to snatch an hour or two's sleep. If I can take my eye off the action, that is. 

Midnight at the 24 Hours of Le Mans. Darkness has descended, everything just got a little bit harder and with 13 hours left until the chequered flag (six of those with the lights out) there's still an awfully long way to go. 

The headlines are this: through the late evening it's been a largely incident-free race, but far from dull as all the main protagonists are right where we want them. At the very head of the pack, Toyota and Porsche have been going blow for blow, with Webber and Kobayashi swapping first and second places as the crowd were treated to a track drenched in low, golden sunlight. 

And then, around 23.15, the #1 Porsche came into the pits. It's currently up on four-foot jacks with a diagnosis pending, leaving Toyota's #6 car to pull out a near two minute lead on the #2 Porsche. Question is, where's Audi? Well, trundling around in fourth now with it's other, repaired car a long way back, and showing few signs of troubling the Toyotas or Porsches for outright pace. 

Meanwhile, in the other race within a race, Ford and Ferrari are playing out a fitting tribute to the 1966 contest in the GTE Pro class. Currently, it's Ford-Ferrari-Ford, with a scant few seconds between the top two. Incredible stuff. If they can make it through the night unscathed, this could go all the way to the wire.

But just what is it like driving around here at night? Terrifying, presumably, but to be sure we cornered Richard Attwood who drove to Porsche's first ever Le Mans win in 1970 in a 917K. LMP1 drivers, if you're about to embark on a double stint, listen up.

"By the time it gets dark all the drivers in the race have had a go, so the slow cars knew to look out for us. I never drove a slow car so I only had to look ahead, that's much easier than constantly looking in your mirrors."

So you need to drive a very fast car. Simple. Anything else? "Your vision is narrowed and you know where the road goes, so in some ways, it's easier. The air's cooler at night, too. We call it the happy hour when the damp acts like water injection. I'd need to check, but we probably set our quickest times at night."

Makes it sound easy, doesn't he? It's not. I mention the 1969 race where he broke down with gearbox trouble three hours before the finish, six laps in the lead. "I was elated when it happened. We were doing double stints and after two hours my neck was in agony, I had a headache and the aerodynamics were atrocious. I was ready to stop."

We know the drivers have it a little easier these days, what with air conditioning and aerodynamics that actually work, but there is still nothing sanitised about this monster of a race. Standing on the inside of Arnage for an hour, metres from the cars as they dive up the inside of each other, lock up the brakes and take off flat out towards the Porsche Curves, it's clear every single one, regardless of class, isn't being nursed to the finish line, they're being thrashed. Constantly. For 24 hours. 

It's the sound of each car that really shape your favourites out there. You just can't help it. Right now I'm a little bit in love with the thuggish wallop of the Corvette's V8, but I'm thinking the whisper-quiet Audi R18 e-Tron will become more appealing when I try to snatch an hour or two's sleep. If I can take my eye off the action, that is. 

Midnight at the 24 Hours of Le Mans. Darkness has descended, everything just got a little bit harder and with 13 hours left until the chequered flag (six of those with the lights out) there's still an awfully long way to go. 

The headlines are this: through the late evening it's been a largely incident-free race, but far from dull as all the main protagonists are right where we want them. At the very head of the pack, Toyota and Porsche have been going blow for blow, with Webber and Kobayashi swapping first and second places as the crowd were treated to a track drenched in low, golden sunlight. 

And then, around 23.15, the #1 Porsche came into the pits. It's currently up on four-foot jacks with a diagnosis pending, leaving Toyota's #6 car to pull out a near two minute lead on the #2 Porsche. Question is, where's Audi? Well, trundling around in fourth now with it's other, repaired car a long way back, and showing few signs of troubling the Toyotas or Porsches for outright pace. 

Meanwhile, in the other race within a race, Ford and Ferrari are playing out a fitting tribute to the 1966 contest in the GTE Pro class. Currently, it's Ford-Ferrari-Ford, with a scant few seconds between the top two. Incredible stuff. If they can make it through the night unscathed, this could go all the way to the wire.

But just what is it like driving around here at night? Terrifying, presumably, but to be sure we cornered Richard Attwood who drove to Porsche's first ever Le Mans win in 1970 in a 917K. LMP1 drivers, if you're about to embark on a double stint, listen up.

"By the time it gets dark all the drivers in the race have had a go, so the slow cars knew to look out for us. I never drove a slow car so I only had to look ahead, that's much easier than constantly looking in your mirrors."

So you need to drive a very fast car. Simple. Anything else? "Your vision is narrowed and you know where the road goes, so in some ways, it's easier. The air's cooler at night, too. We call it the happy hour when the damp acts like water injection. I'd need to check, but we probably set our quickest times at night."

Makes it sound easy, doesn't he? It's not. I mention the 1969 race where he broke down with gearbox trouble three hours before the finish, six laps in the lead. "I was elated when it happened. We were doing double stints and after two hours my neck was in agony, I had a headache and the aerodynamics were atrocious. I was ready to stop."

We know the drivers have it a little easier these days, what with air conditioning and aerodynamics that actually work, but there is still nothing sanitised about this monster of a race. Standing on the inside of Arnage for an hour, metres from the cars as they dive up the inside of each other, lock up the brakes and take off flat out towards the Porsche Curves, it's clear every single one, regardless of class, isn't being nursed to the finish line, they're being thrashed. Constantly. For 24 hours. 

It's the sound of each car that really shape your favourites out there. You just can't help it. Right now I'm a little bit in love with the thuggish wallop of the Corvette's V8, but I'm thinking the whisper-quiet Audi R18 e-Tron will become more appealing when I try to snatch an hour or two's sleep. If I can take my eye off the action, that is. 

Midnight at the 24 Hours of Le Mans. Darkness has descended, everything just got a little bit harder and with 13 hours left until the chequered flag (six of those with the lights out) there's still an awfully long way to go. 

The headlines are this: through the late evening it's been a largely incident-free race, but far from dull as all the main protagonists are right where we want them. At the very head of the pack, Toyota and Porsche have been going blow for blow, with Webber and Kobayashi swapping first and second places as the crowd were treated to a track drenched in low, golden sunlight. 

And then, around 23.15, the #1 Porsche came into the pits. It's currently up on four-foot jacks with a diagnosis pending, leaving Toyota's #6 car to pull out a near two minute lead on the #2 Porsche. Question is, where's Audi? Well, trundling around in fourth now with it's other, repaired car a long way back, and showing few signs of troubling the Toyotas or Porsches for outright pace. 

Meanwhile, in the other race within a race, Ford and Ferrari are playing out a fitting tribute to the 1966 contest in the GTE Pro class. Currently, it's Ford-Ferrari-Ford, with a scant few seconds between the top two. Incredible stuff. If they can make it through the night unscathed, this could go all the way to the wire.

But just what is it like driving around here at night? Terrifying, presumably, but to be sure we cornered Richard Attwood who drove to Porsche's first ever Le Mans win in 1970 in a 917K. LMP1 drivers, if you're about to embark on a double stint, listen up.

"By the time it gets dark all the drivers in the race have had a go, so the slow cars knew to look out for us. I never drove a slow car so I only had to look ahead, that's much easier than constantly looking in your mirrors."

So you need to drive a very fast car. Simple. Anything else? "Your vision is narrowed and you know where the road goes, so in some ways, it's easier. The air's cooler at night, too. We call it the happy hour when the damp acts like water injection. I'd need to check, but we probably set our quickest times at night."

Makes it sound easy, doesn't he? It's not. I mention the 1969 race where he broke down with gearbox trouble three hours before the finish, six laps in the lead. "I was elated when it happened. We were doing double stints and after two hours my neck was in agony, I had a headache and the aerodynamics were atrocious. I was ready to stop."

We know the drivers have it a little easier these days, what with air conditioning and aerodynamics that actually work, but there is still nothing sanitised about this monster of a race. Standing on the inside of Arnage for an hour, metres from the cars as they dive up the inside of each other, lock up the brakes and take off flat out towards the Porsche Curves, it's clear every single one, regardless of class, isn't being nursed to the finish line, they're being thrashed. Constantly. For 24 hours. 

It's the sound of each car that really shape your favourites out there. You just can't help it. Right now I'm a little bit in love with the thuggish wallop of the Corvette's V8, but I'm thinking the whisper-quiet Audi R18 e-Tron will become more appealing when I try to snatch an hour or two's sleep. If I can take my eye off the action, that is. 

Midnight at the 24 Hours of Le Mans. Darkness has descended, everything just got a little bit harder and with 13 hours left until the chequered flag (six of those with the lights out) there's still an awfully long way to go. 

The headlines are this: through the late evening it's been a largely incident-free race, but far from dull as all the main protagonists are right where we want them. At the very head of the pack, Toyota and Porsche have been going blow for blow, with Webber and Kobayashi swapping first and second places as the crowd were treated to a track drenched in low, golden sunlight. 

And then, around 23.15, the #1 Porsche came into the pits. It's currently up on four-foot jacks with a diagnosis pending, leaving Toyota's #6 car to pull out a near two minute lead on the #2 Porsche. Question is, where's Audi? Well, trundling around in fourth now with it's other, repaired car a long way back, and showing few signs of troubling the Toyotas or Porsches for outright pace. 

Meanwhile, in the other race within a race, Ford and Ferrari are playing out a fitting tribute to the 1966 contest in the GTE Pro class. Currently, it's Ford-Ferrari-Ford, with a scant few seconds between the top two. Incredible stuff. If they can make it through the night unscathed, this could go all the way to the wire.

But just what is it like driving around here at night? Terrifying, presumably, but to be sure we cornered Richard Attwood who drove to Porsche's first ever Le Mans win in 1970 in a 917K. LMP1 drivers, if you're about to embark on a double stint, listen up.

"By the time it gets dark all the drivers in the race have had a go, so the slow cars knew to look out for us. I never drove a slow car so I only had to look ahead, that's much easier than constantly looking in your mirrors."

So you need to drive a very fast car. Simple. Anything else? "Your vision is narrowed and you know where the road goes, so in some ways, it's easier. The air's cooler at night, too. We call it the happy hour when the damp acts like water injection. I'd need to check, but we probably set our quickest times at night."

Makes it sound easy, doesn't he? It's not. I mention the 1969 race where he broke down with gearbox trouble three hours before the finish, six laps in the lead. "I was elated when it happened. We were doing double stints and after two hours my neck was in agony, I had a headache and the aerodynamics were atrocious. I was ready to stop."

We know the drivers have it a little easier these days, what with air conditioning and aerodynamics that actually work, but there is still nothing sanitised about this monster of a race. Standing on the inside of Arnage for an hour, metres from the cars as they dive up the inside of each other, lock up the brakes and take off flat out towards the Porsche Curves, it's clear every single one, regardless of class, isn't being nursed to the finish line, they're being thrashed. Constantly. For 24 hours. 

It's the sound of each car that really shape your favourites out there. You just can't help it. Right now I'm a little bit in love with the thuggish wallop of the Corvette's V8, but I'm thinking the whisper-quiet Audi R18 e-Tron will become more appealing when I try to snatch an hour or two's sleep. If I can take my eye off the action, that is. 

Midnight at the 24 Hours of Le Mans. Darkness has descended, everything just got a little bit harder and with 13 hours left until the chequered flag (six of those with the lights out) there's still an awfully long way to go. 

The headlines are this: through the late evening it's been a largely incident-free race, but far from dull as all the main protagonists are right where we want them. At the very head of the pack, Toyota and Porsche have been going blow for blow, with Webber and Kobayashi swapping first and second places as the crowd were treated to a track drenched in low, golden sunlight. 

And then, around 23.15, the #1 Porsche came into the pits. It's currently up on four-foot jacks with a diagnosis pending, leaving Toyota's #6 car to pull out a near two minute lead on the #2 Porsche. Question is, where's Audi? Well, trundling around in fourth now with it's other, repaired car a long way back, and showing few signs of troubling the Toyotas or Porsches for outright pace. 

Meanwhile, in the other race within a race, Ford and Ferrari are playing out a fitting tribute to the 1966 contest in the GTE Pro class. Currently, it's Ford-Ferrari-Ford, with a scant few seconds between the top two. Incredible stuff. If they can make it through the night unscathed, this could go all the way to the wire.

But just what is it like driving around here at night? Terrifying, presumably, but to be sure we cornered Richard Attwood who drove to Porsche's first ever Le Mans win in 1970 in a 917K. LMP1 drivers, if you're about to embark on a double stint, listen up.

"By the time it gets dark all the drivers in the race have had a go, so the slow cars knew to look out for us. I never drove a slow car so I only had to look ahead, that's much easier than constantly looking in your mirrors."

So you need to drive a very fast car. Simple. Anything else? "Your vision is narrowed and you know where the road goes, so in some ways, it's easier. The air's cooler at night, too. We call it the happy hour when the damp acts like water injection. I'd need to check, but we probably set our quickest times at night."

Makes it sound easy, doesn't he? It's not. I mention the 1969 race where he broke down with gearbox trouble three hours before the finish, six laps in the lead. "I was elated when it happened. We were doing double stints and after two hours my neck was in agony, I had a headache and the aerodynamics were atrocious. I was ready to stop."

We know the drivers have it a little easier these days, what with air conditioning and aerodynamics that actually work, but there is still nothing sanitised about this monster of a race. Standing on the inside of Arnage for an hour, metres from the cars as they dive up the inside of each other, lock up the brakes and take off flat out towards the Porsche Curves, it's clear every single one, regardless of class, isn't being nursed to the finish line, they're being thrashed. Constantly. For 24 hours. 

It's the sound of each car that really shape your favourites out there. You just can't help it. Right now I'm a little bit in love with the thuggish wallop of the Corvette's V8, but I'm thinking the whisper-quiet Audi R18 e-Tron will become more appealing when I try to snatch an hour or two's sleep. If I can take my eye off the action, that is. 

Midnight at the 24 Hours of Le Mans. Darkness has descended, everything just got a little bit harder and with 13 hours left until the chequered flag (six of those with the lights out) there's still an awfully long way to go. 

The headlines are this: through the late evening it's been a largely incident-free race, but far from dull as all the main protagonists are right where we want them. At the very head of the pack, Toyota and Porsche have been going blow for blow, with Webber and Kobayashi swapping first and second places as the crowd were treated to a track drenched in low, golden sunlight. 

And then, around 23.15, the #1 Porsche came into the pits. It's currently up on four-foot jacks with a diagnosis pending, leaving Toyota's #6 car to pull out a near two minute lead on the #2 Porsche. Question is, where's Audi? Well, trundling around in fourth now with it's other, repaired car a long way back, and showing few signs of troubling the Toyotas or Porsches for outright pace. 

Meanwhile, in the other race within a race, Ford and Ferrari are playing out a fitting tribute to the 1966 contest in the GTE Pro class. Currently, it's Ford-Ferrari-Ford, with a scant few seconds between the top two. Incredible stuff. If they can make it through the night unscathed, this could go all the way to the wire.

But just what is it like driving around here at night? Terrifying, presumably, but to be sure we cornered Richard Attwood who drove to Porsche's first ever Le Mans win in 1970 in a 917K. LMP1 drivers, if you're about to embark on a double stint, listen up.

"By the time it gets dark all the drivers in the race have had a go, so the slow cars knew to look out for us. I never drove a slow car so I only had to look ahead, that's much easier than constantly looking in your mirrors."

So you need to drive a very fast car. Simple. Anything else? "Your vision is narrowed and you know where the road goes, so in some ways, it's easier. The air's cooler at night, too. We call it the happy hour when the damp acts like water injection. I'd need to check, but we probably set our quickest times at night."

Makes it sound easy, doesn't he? It's not. I mention the 1969 race where he broke down with gearbox trouble three hours before the finish, six laps in the lead. "I was elated when it happened. We were doing double stints and after two hours my neck was in agony, I had a headache and the aerodynamics were atrocious. I was ready to stop."

We know the drivers have it a little easier these days, what with air conditioning and aerodynamics that actually work, but there is still nothing sanitised about this monster of a race. Standing on the inside of Arnage for an hour, metres from the cars as they dive up the inside of each other, lock up the brakes and take off flat out towards the Porsche Curves, it's clear every single one, regardless of class, isn't being nursed to the finish line, they're being thrashed. Constantly. For 24 hours. 

It's the sound of each car that really shape your favourites out there. You just can't help it. Right now I'm a little bit in love with the thuggish wallop of the Corvette's V8, but I'm thinking the whisper-quiet Audi R18 e-Tron will become more appealing when I try to snatch an hour or two's sleep. If I can take my eye off the action, that is. 

Midnight at the 24 Hours of Le Mans. Darkness has descended, everything just got a little bit harder and with 13 hours left until the chequered flag (six of those with the lights out) there's still an awfully long way to go. 

The headlines are this: through the late evening it's been a largely incident-free race, but far from dull as all the main protagonists are right where we want them. At the very head of the pack, Toyota and Porsche have been going blow for blow, with Webber and Kobayashi swapping first and second places as the crowd were treated to a track drenched in low, golden sunlight. 

And then, around 23.15, the #1 Porsche came into the pits. It's currently up on four-foot jacks with a diagnosis pending, leaving Toyota's #6 car to pull out a near two minute lead on the #2 Porsche. Question is, where's Audi? Well, trundling around in fourth now with it's other, repaired car a long way back, and showing few signs of troubling the Toyotas or Porsches for outright pace. 

Meanwhile, in the other race within a race, Ford and Ferrari are playing out a fitting tribute to the 1966 contest in the GTE Pro class. Currently, it's Ford-Ferrari-Ford, with a scant few seconds between the top two. Incredible stuff. If they can make it through the night unscathed, this could go all the way to the wire.

But just what is it like driving around here at night? Terrifying, presumably, but to be sure we cornered Richard Attwood who drove to Porsche's first ever Le Mans win in 1970 in a 917K. LMP1 drivers, if you're about to embark on a double stint, listen up.

"By the time it gets dark all the drivers in the race have had a go, so the slow cars knew to look out for us. I never drove a slow car so I only had to look ahead, that's much easier than constantly looking in your mirrors."

So you need to drive a very fast car. Simple. Anything else? "Your vision is narrowed and you know where the road goes, so in some ways, it's easier. The air's cooler at night, too. We call it the happy hour when the damp acts like water injection. I'd need to check, but we probably set our quickest times at night."

Makes it sound easy, doesn't he? It's not. I mention the 1969 race where he broke down with gearbox trouble three hours before the finish, six laps in the lead. "I was elated when it happened. We were doing double stints and after two hours my neck was in agony, I had a headache and the aerodynamics were atrocious. I was ready to stop."

We know the drivers have it a little easier these days, what with air conditioning and aerodynamics that actually work, but there is still nothing sanitised about this monster of a race. Standing on the inside of Arnage for an hour, metres from the cars as they dive up the inside of each other, lock up the brakes and take off flat out towards the Porsche Curves, it's clear every single one, regardless of class, isn't being nursed to the finish line, they're being thrashed. Constantly. For 24 hours. 

It's the sound of each car that really shape your favourites out there. You just can't help it. Right now I'm a little bit in love with the thuggish wallop of the Corvette's V8, but I'm thinking the whisper-quiet Audi R18 e-Tron will become more appealing when I try to snatch an hour or two's sleep. If I can take my eye off the action, that is. 

Midnight at the 24 Hours of Le Mans. Darkness has descended, everything just got a little bit harder and with 13 hours left until the chequered flag (six of those with the lights out) there's still an awfully long way to go. 

The headlines are this: through the late evening it's been a largely incident-free race, but far from dull as all the main protagonists are right where we want them. At the very head of the pack, Toyota and Porsche have been going blow for blow, with Webber and Kobayashi swapping first and second places as the crowd were treated to a track drenched in low, golden sunlight. 

And then, around 23.15, the #1 Porsche came into the pits. It's currently up on four-foot jacks with a diagnosis pending, leaving Toyota's #6 car to pull out a near two minute lead on the #2 Porsche. Question is, where's Audi? Well, trundling around in fourth now with it's other, repaired car a long way back, and showing few signs of troubling the Toyotas or Porsches for outright pace. 

Meanwhile, in the other race within a race, Ford and Ferrari are playing out a fitting tribute to the 1966 contest in the GTE Pro class. Currently, it's Ford-Ferrari-Ford, with a scant few seconds between the top two. Incredible stuff. If they can make it through the night unscathed, this could go all the way to the wire.

But just what is it like driving around here at night? Terrifying, presumably, but to be sure we cornered Richard Attwood who drove to Porsche's first ever Le Mans win in 1970 in a 917K. LMP1 drivers, if you're about to embark on a double stint, listen up.

"By the time it gets dark all the drivers in the race have had a go, so the slow cars knew to look out for us. I never drove a slow car so I only had to look ahead, that's much easier than constantly looking in your mirrors."

So you need to drive a very fast car. Simple. Anything else? "Your vision is narrowed and you know where the road goes, so in some ways, it's easier. The air's cooler at night, too. We call it the happy hour when the damp acts like water injection. I'd need to check, but we probably set our quickest times at night."

Makes it sound easy, doesn't he? It's not. I mention the 1969 race where he broke down with gearbox trouble three hours before the finish, six laps in the lead. "I was elated when it happened. We were doing double stints and after two hours my neck was in agony, I had a headache and the aerodynamics were atrocious. I was ready to stop."

We know the drivers have it a little easier these days, what with air conditioning and aerodynamics that actually work, but there is still nothing sanitised about this monster of a race. Standing on the inside of Arnage for an hour, metres from the cars as they dive up the inside of each other, lock up the brakes and take off flat out towards the Porsche Curves, it's clear every single one, regardless of class, isn't being nursed to the finish line, they're being thrashed. Constantly. For 24 hours. 

It's the sound of each car that really shape your favourites out there. You just can't help it. Right now I'm a little bit in love with the thuggish wallop of the Corvette's V8, but I'm thinking the whisper-quiet Audi R18 e-Tron will become more appealing when I try to snatch an hour or two's sleep. If I can take my eye off the action, that is. 

Midnight at the 24 Hours of Le Mans. Darkness has descended, everything just got a little bit harder and with 13 hours left until the chequered flag (six of those with the lights out) there's still an awfully long way to go. 

The headlines are this: through the late evening it's been a largely incident-free race, but far from dull as all the main protagonists are right where we want them. At the very head of the pack, Toyota and Porsche have been going blow for blow, with Webber and Kobayashi swapping first and second places as the crowd were treated to a track drenched in low, golden sunlight. 

And then, around 23.15, the #1 Porsche came into the pits. It's currently up on four-foot jacks with a diagnosis pending, leaving Toyota's #6 car to pull out a near two minute lead on the #2 Porsche. Question is, where's Audi? Well, trundling around in fourth now with it's other, repaired car a long way back, and showing few signs of troubling the Toyotas or Porsches for outright pace. 

Meanwhile, in the other race within a race, Ford and Ferrari are playing out a fitting tribute to the 1966 contest in the GTE Pro class. Currently, it's Ford-Ferrari-Ford, with a scant few seconds between the top two. Incredible stuff. If they can make it through the night unscathed, this could go all the way to the wire.

But just what is it like driving around here at night? Terrifying, presumably, but to be sure we cornered Richard Attwood who drove to Porsche's first ever Le Mans win in 1970 in a 917K. LMP1 drivers, if you're about to embark on a double stint, listen up.

"By the time it gets dark all the drivers in the race have had a go, so the slow cars knew to look out for us. I never drove a slow car so I only had to look ahead, that's much easier than constantly looking in your mirrors."

So you need to drive a very fast car. Simple. Anything else? "Your vision is narrowed and you know where the road goes, so in some ways, it's easier. The air's cooler at night, too. We call it the happy hour when the damp acts like water injection. I'd need to check, but we probably set our quickest times at night."

Makes it sound easy, doesn't he? It's not. I mention the 1969 race where he broke down with gearbox trouble three hours before the finish, six laps in the lead. "I was elated when it happened. We were doing double stints and after two hours my neck was in agony, I had a headache and the aerodynamics were atrocious. I was ready to stop."

We know the drivers have it a little easier these days, what with air conditioning and aerodynamics that actually work, but there is still nothing sanitised about this monster of a race. Standing on the inside of Arnage for an hour, metres from the cars as they dive up the inside of each other, lock up the brakes and take off flat out towards the Porsche Curves, it's clear every single one, regardless of class, isn't being nursed to the finish line, they're being thrashed. Constantly. For 24 hours. 

It's the sound of each car that really shape your favourites out there. You just can't help it. Right now I'm a little bit in love with the thuggish wallop of the Corvette's V8, but I'm thinking the whisper-quiet Audi R18 e-Tron will become more appealing when I try to snatch an hour or two's sleep. If I can take my eye off the action, that is. 

Midnight at the 24 Hours of Le Mans. Darkness has descended, everything just got a little bit harder and with 13 hours left until the chequered flag (six of those with the lights out) there's still an awfully long way to go. 

The headlines are this: through the late evening it's been a largely incident-free race, but far from dull as all the main protagonists are right where we want them. At the very head of the pack, Toyota and Porsche have been going blow for blow, with Webber and Kobayashi swapping first and second places as the crowd were treated to a track drenched in low, golden sunlight. 

And then, around 23.15, the #1 Porsche came into the pits. It's currently up on four-foot jacks with a diagnosis pending, leaving Toyota's #6 car to pull out a near two minute lead on the #2 Porsche. Question is, where's Audi? Well, trundling around in fourth now with it's other, repaired car a long way back, and showing few signs of troubling the Toyotas or Porsches for outright pace. 

Meanwhile, in the other race within a race, Ford and Ferrari are playing out a fitting tribute to the 1966 contest in the GTE Pro class. Currently, it's Ford-Ferrari-Ford, with a scant few seconds between the top two. Incredible stuff. If they can make it through the night unscathed, this could go all the way to the wire.

But just what is it like driving around here at night? Terrifying, presumably, but to be sure we cornered Richard Attwood who drove to Porsche's first ever Le Mans win in 1970 in a 917K. LMP1 drivers, if you're about to embark on a double stint, listen up.

"By the time it gets dark all the drivers in the race have had a go, so the slow cars knew to look out for us. I never drove a slow car so I only had to look ahead, that's much easier than constantly looking in your mirrors."

So you need to drive a very fast car. Simple. Anything else? "Your vision is narrowed and you know where the road goes, so in some ways, it's easier. The air's cooler at night, too. We call it the happy hour when the damp acts like water injection. I'd need to check, but we probably set our quickest times at night."

Makes it sound easy, doesn't he? It's not. I mention the 1969 race where he broke down with gearbox trouble three hours before the finish, six laps in the lead. "I was elated when it happened. We were doing double stints and after two hours my neck was in agony, I had a headache and the aerodynamics were atrocious. I was ready to stop."

We know the drivers have it a little easier these days, what with air conditioning and aerodynamics that actually work, but there is still nothing sanitised about this monster of a race. Standing on the inside of Arnage for an hour, metres from the cars as they dive up the inside of each other, lock up the brakes and take off flat out towards the Porsche Curves, it's clear every single one, regardless of class, isn't being nursed to the finish line, they're being thrashed. Constantly. For 24 hours. 

It's the sound of each car that really shape your favourites out there. You just can't help it. Right now I'm a little bit in love with the thuggish wallop of the Corvette's V8, but I'm thinking the whisper-quiet Audi R18 e-Tron will become more appealing when I try to snatch an hour or two's sleep. If I can take my eye off the action, that is. 

Midnight at the 24 Hours of Le Mans. Darkness has descended, everything just got a little bit harder and with 13 hours left until the chequered flag (six of those with the lights out) there's still an awfully long way to go. 

The headlines are this: through the late evening it's been a largely incident-free race, but far from dull as all the main protagonists are right where we want them. At the very head of the pack, Toyota and Porsche have been going blow for blow, with Webber and Kobayashi swapping first and second places as the crowd were treated to a track drenched in low, golden sunlight. 

And then, around 23.15, the #1 Porsche came into the pits. It's currently up on four-foot jacks with a diagnosis pending, leaving Toyota's #6 car to pull out a near two minute lead on the #2 Porsche. Question is, where's Audi? Well, trundling around in fourth now with it's other, repaired car a long way back, and showing few signs of troubling the Toyotas or Porsches for outright pace. 

Meanwhile, in the other race within a race, Ford and Ferrari are playing out a fitting tribute to the 1966 contest in the GTE Pro class. Currently, it's Ford-Ferrari-Ford, with a scant few seconds between the top two. Incredible stuff. If they can make it through the night unscathed, this could go all the way to the wire.

But just what is it like driving around here at night? Terrifying, presumably, but to be sure we cornered Richard Attwood who drove to Porsche's first ever Le Mans win in 1970 in a 917K. LMP1 drivers, if you're about to embark on a double stint, listen up.

"By the time it gets dark all the drivers in the race have had a go, so the slow cars knew to look out for us. I never drove a slow car so I only had to look ahead, that's much easier than constantly looking in your mirrors."

So you need to drive a very fast car. Simple. Anything else? "Your vision is narrowed and you know where the road goes, so in some ways, it's easier. The air's cooler at night, too. We call it the happy hour when the damp acts like water injection. I'd need to check, but we probably set our quickest times at night."

Makes it sound easy, doesn't he? It's not. I mention the 1969 race where he broke down with gearbox trouble three hours before the finish, six laps in the lead. "I was elated when it happened. We were doing double stints and after two hours my neck was in agony, I had a headache and the aerodynamics were atrocious. I was ready to stop."

We know the drivers have it a little easier these days, what with air conditioning and aerodynamics that actually work, but there is still nothing sanitised about this monster of a race. Standing on the inside of Arnage for an hour, metres from the cars as they dive up the inside of each other, lock up the brakes and take off flat out towards the Porsche Curves, it's clear every single one, regardless of class, isn't being nursed to the finish line, they're being thrashed. Constantly. For 24 hours. 

It's the sound of each car that really shape your favourites out there. You just can't help it. Right now I'm a little bit in love with the thuggish wallop of the Corvette's V8, but I'm thinking the whisper-quiet Audi R18 e-Tron will become more appealing when I try to snatch an hour or two's sleep. If I can take my eye off the action, that is. 

Midnight at the 24 Hours of Le Mans. Darkness has descended, everything just got a little bit harder and with 13 hours left until the chequered flag (six of those with the lights out) there's still an awfully long way to go. 

The headlines are this: through the late evening it's been a largely incident-free race, but far from dull as all the main protagonists are right where we want them. At the very head of the pack, Toyota and Porsche have been going blow for blow, with Webber and Kobayashi swapping first and second places as the crowd were treated to a track drenched in low, golden sunlight. 

And then, around 23.15, the #1 Porsche came into the pits. It's currently up on four-foot jacks with a diagnosis pending, leaving Toyota's #6 car to pull out a near two minute lead on the #2 Porsche. Question is, where's Audi? Well, trundling around in fourth now with it's other, repaired car a long way back, and showing few signs of troubling the Toyotas or Porsches for outright pace. 

Meanwhile, in the other race within a race, Ford and Ferrari are playing out a fitting tribute to the 1966 contest in the GTE Pro class. Currently, it's Ford-Ferrari-Ford, with a scant few seconds between the top two. Incredible stuff. If they can make it through the night unscathed, this could go all the way to the wire.

But just what is it like driving around here at night? Terrifying, presumably, but to be sure we cornered Richard Attwood who drove to Porsche's first ever Le Mans win in 1970 in a 917K. LMP1 drivers, if you're about to embark on a double stint, listen up.

"By the time it gets dark all the drivers in the race have had a go, so the slow cars knew to look out for us. I never drove a slow car so I only had to look ahead, that's much easier than constantly looking in your mirrors."

So you need to drive a very fast car. Simple. Anything else? "Your vision is narrowed and you know where the road goes, so in some ways, it's easier. The air's cooler at night, too. We call it the happy hour when the damp acts like water injection. I'd need to check, but we probably set our quickest times at night."

Makes it sound easy, doesn't he? It's not. I mention the 1969 race where he broke down with gearbox trouble three hours before the finish, six laps in the lead. "I was elated when it happened. We were doing double stints and after two hours my neck was in agony, I had a headache and the aerodynamics were atrocious. I was ready to stop."

We know the drivers have it a little easier these days, what with air conditioning and aerodynamics that actually work, but there is still nothing sanitised about this monster of a race. Standing on the inside of Arnage for an hour, metres from the cars as they dive up the inside of each other, lock up the brakes and take off flat out towards the Porsche Curves, it's clear every single one, regardless of class, isn't being nursed to the finish line, they're being thrashed. Constantly. For 24 hours. 

It's the sound of each car that really shape your favourites out there. You just can't help it. Right now I'm a little bit in love with the thuggish wallop of the Corvette's V8, but I'm thinking the whisper-quiet Audi R18 e-Tron will become more appealing when I try to snatch an hour or two's sleep. If I can take my eye off the action, that is. 

Midnight at the 24 Hours of Le Mans. Darkness has descended, everything just got a little bit harder and with 13 hours left until the chequered flag (six of those with the lights out) there's still an awfully long way to go. 

The headlines are this: through the late evening it's been a largely incident-free race, but far from dull as all the main protagonists are right where we want them. At the very head of the pack, Toyota and Porsche have been going blow for blow, with Webber and Kobayashi swapping first and second places as the crowd were treated to a track drenched in low, golden sunlight. 

And then, around 23.15, the #1 Porsche came into the pits. It's currently up on four-foot jacks with a diagnosis pending, leaving Toyota's #6 car to pull out a near two minute lead on the #2 Porsche. Question is, where's Audi? Well, trundling around in fourth now with it's other, repaired car a long way back, and showing few signs of troubling the Toyotas or Porsches for outright pace. 

Meanwhile, in the other race within a race, Ford and Ferrari are playing out a fitting tribute to the 1966 contest in the GTE Pro class. Currently, it's Ford-Ferrari-Ford, with a scant few seconds between the top two. Incredible stuff. If they can make it through the night unscathed, this could go all the way to the wire.

But just what is it like driving around here at night? Terrifying, presumably, but to be sure we cornered Richard Attwood who drove to Porsche's first ever Le Mans win in 1970 in a 917K. LMP1 drivers, if you're about to embark on a double stint, listen up.

"By the time it gets dark all the drivers in the race have had a go, so the slow cars knew to look out for us. I never drove a slow car so I only had to look ahead, that's much easier than constantly looking in your mirrors."

So you need to drive a very fast car. Simple. Anything else? "Your vision is narrowed and you know where the road goes, so in some ways, it's easier. The air's cooler at night, too. We call it the happy hour when the damp acts like water injection. I'd need to check, but we probably set our quickest times at night."

Makes it sound easy, doesn't he? It's not. I mention the 1969 race where he broke down with gearbox trouble three hours before the finish, six laps in the lead. "I was elated when it happened. We were doing double stints and after two hours my neck was in agony, I had a headache and the aerodynamics were atrocious. I was ready to stop."

We know the drivers have it a little easier these days, what with air conditioning and aerodynamics that actually work, but there is still nothing sanitised about this monster of a race. Standing on the inside of Arnage for an hour, metres from the cars as they dive up the inside of each other, lock up the brakes and take off flat out towards the Porsche Curves, it's clear every single one, regardless of class, isn't being nursed to the finish line, they're being thrashed. Constantly. For 24 hours. 

It's the sound of each car that really shape your favourites out there. You just can't help it. Right now I'm a little bit in love with the thuggish wallop of the Corvette's V8, but I'm thinking the whisper-quiet Audi R18 e-Tron will become more appealing when I try to snatch an hour or two's sleep. If I can take my eye off the action, that is. 

Midnight at the 24 Hours of Le Mans. Darkness has descended, everything just got a little bit harder and with 13 hours left until the chequered flag (six of those with the lights out) there's still an awfully long way to go. 

The headlines are this: through the late evening it's been a largely incident-free race, but far from dull as all the main protagonists are right where we want them. At the very head of the pack, Toyota and Porsche have been going blow for blow, with Webber and Kobayashi swapping first and second places as the crowd were treated to a track drenched in low, golden sunlight. 

And then, around 23.15, the #1 Porsche came into the pits. It's currently up on four-foot jacks with a diagnosis pending, leaving Toyota's #6 car to pull out a near two minute lead on the #2 Porsche. Question is, where's Audi? Well, trundling around in fourth now with it's other, repaired car a long way back, and showing few signs of troubling the Toyotas or Porsches for outright pace. 

Meanwhile, in the other race within a race, Ford and Ferrari are playing out a fitting tribute to the 1966 contest in the GTE Pro class. Currently, it's Ford-Ferrari-Ford, with a scant few seconds between the top two. Incredible stuff. If they can make it through the night unscathed, this could go all the way to the wire.

But just what is it like driving around here at night? Terrifying, presumably, but to be sure we cornered Richard Attwood who drove to Porsche's first ever Le Mans win in 1970 in a 917K. LMP1 drivers, if you're about to embark on a double stint, listen up.

"By the time it gets dark all the drivers in the race have had a go, so the slow cars knew to look out for us. I never drove a slow car so I only had to look ahead, that's much easier than constantly looking in your mirrors."

So you need to drive a very fast car. Simple. Anything else? "Your vision is narrowed and you know where the road goes, so in some ways, it's easier. The air's cooler at night, too. We call it the happy hour when the damp acts like water injection. I'd need to check, but we probably set our quickest times at night."

Makes it sound easy, doesn't he? It's not. I mention the 1969 race where he broke down with gearbox trouble three hours before the finish, six laps in the lead. "I was elated when it happened. We were doing double stints and after two hours my neck was in agony, I had a headache and the aerodynamics were atrocious. I was ready to stop."

We know the drivers have it a little easier these days, what with air conditioning and aerodynamics that actually work, but there is still nothing sanitised about this monster of a race. Standing on the inside of Arnage for an hour, metres from the cars as they dive up the inside of each other, lock up the brakes and take off flat out towards the Porsche Curves, it's clear every single one, regardless of class, isn't being nursed to the finish line, they're being thrashed. Constantly. For 24 hours. 

It's the sound of each car that really shape your favourites out there. You just can't help it. Right now I'm a little bit in love with the thuggish wallop of the Corvette's V8, but I'm thinking the whisper-quiet Audi R18 e-Tron will become more appealing when I try to snatch an hour or two's sleep. If I can take my eye off the action, that is. 

Midnight at the 24 Hours of Le Mans. Darkness has descended, everything just got a little bit harder and with 13 hours left until the chequered flag (six of those with the lights out) there's still an awfully long way to go. 

The headlines are this: through the late evening it's been a largely incident-free race, but far from dull as all the main protagonists are right where we want them. At the very head of the pack, Toyota and Porsche have been going blow for blow, with Webber and Kobayashi swapping first and second places as the crowd were treated to a track drenched in low, golden sunlight. 

And then, around 23.15, the #1 Porsche came into the pits. It's currently up on four-foot jacks with a diagnosis pending, leaving Toyota's #6 car to pull out a near two minute lead on the #2 Porsche. Question is, where's Audi? Well, trundling around in fourth now with it's other, repaired car a long way back, and showing few signs of troubling the Toyotas or Porsches for outright pace. 

Meanwhile, in the other race within a race, Ford and Ferrari are playing out a fitting tribute to the 1966 contest in the GTE Pro class. Currently, it's Ford-Ferrari-Ford, with a scant few seconds between the top two. Incredible stuff. If they can make it through the night unscathed, this could go all the way to the wire.

But just what is it like driving around here at night? Terrifying, presumably, but to be sure we cornered Richard Attwood who drove to Porsche's first ever Le Mans win in 1970 in a 917K. LMP1 drivers, if you're about to embark on a double stint, listen up.

"By the time it gets dark all the drivers in the race have had a go, so the slow cars knew to look out for us. I never drove a slow car so I only had to look ahead, that's much easier than constantly looking in your mirrors."

So you need to drive a very fast car. Simple. Anything else? "Your vision is narrowed and you know where the road goes, so in some ways, it's easier. The air's cooler at night, too. We call it the happy hour when the damp acts like water injection. I'd need to check, but we probably set our quickest times at night."

Makes it sound easy, doesn't he? It's not. I mention the 1969 race where he broke down with gearbox trouble three hours before the finish, six laps in the lead. "I was elated when it happened. We were doing double stints and after two hours my neck was in agony, I had a headache and the aerodynamics were atrocious. I was ready to stop."

We know the drivers have it a little easier these days, what with air conditioning and aerodynamics that actually work, but there is still nothing sanitised about this monster of a race. Standing on the inside of Arnage for an hour, metres from the cars as they dive up the inside of each other, lock up the brakes and take off flat out towards the Porsche Curves, it's clear every single one, regardless of class, isn't being nursed to the finish line, they're being thrashed. Constantly. For 24 hours. 

It's the sound of each car that really shape your favourites out there. You just can't help it. Right now I'm a little bit in love with the thuggish wallop of the Corvette's V8, but I'm thinking the whisper-quiet Audi R18 e-Tron will become more appealing when I try to snatch an hour or two's sleep. If I can take my eye off the action, that is. 

Midnight at the 24 Hours of Le Mans. Darkness has descended, everything just got a little bit harder and with 13 hours left until the chequered flag (six of those with the lights out) there's still an awfully long way to go. 

The headlines are this: through the late evening it's been a largely incident-free race, but far from dull as all the main protagonists are right where we want them. At the very head of the pack, Toyota and Porsche have been going blow for blow, with Webber and Kobayashi swapping first and second places as the crowd were treated to a track drenched in low, golden sunlight. 

And then, around 23.15, the #1 Porsche came into the pits. It's currently up on four-foot jacks with a diagnosis pending, leaving Toyota's #6 car to pull out a near two minute lead on the #2 Porsche. Question is, where's Audi? Well, trundling around in fourth now with it's other, repaired car a long way back, and showing few signs of troubling the Toyotas or Porsches for outright pace. 

Meanwhile, in the other race within a race, Ford and Ferrari are playing out a fitting tribute to the 1966 contest in the GTE Pro class. Currently, it's Ford-Ferrari-Ford, with a scant few seconds between the top two. Incredible stuff. If they can make it through the night unscathed, this could go all the way to the wire.

But just what is it like driving around here at night? Terrifying, presumably, but to be sure we cornered Richard Attwood who drove to Porsche's first ever Le Mans win in 1970 in a 917K. LMP1 drivers, if you're about to embark on a double stint, listen up.

"By the time it gets dark all the drivers in the race have had a go, so the slow cars knew to look out for us. I never drove a slow car so I only had to look ahead, that's much easier than constantly looking in your mirrors."

So you need to drive a very fast car. Simple. Anything else? "Your vision is narrowed and you know where the road goes, so in some ways, it's easier. The air's cooler at night, too. We call it the happy hour when the damp acts like water injection. I'd need to check, but we probably set our quickest times at night."

Makes it sound easy, doesn't he? It's not. I mention the 1969 race where he broke down with gearbox trouble three hours before the finish, six laps in the lead. "I was elated when it happened. We were doing double stints and after two hours my neck was in agony, I had a headache and the aerodynamics were atrocious. I was ready to stop."

We know the drivers have it a little easier these days, what with air conditioning and aerodynamics that actually work, but there is still nothing sanitised about this monster of a race. Standing on the inside of Arnage for an hour, metres from the cars as they dive up the inside of each other, lock up the brakes and take off flat out towards the Porsche Curves, it's clear every single one, regardless of class, isn't being nursed to the finish line, they're being thrashed. Constantly. For 24 hours. 

It's the sound of each car that really shape your favourites out there. You just can't help it. Right now I'm a little bit in love with the thuggish wallop of the Corvette's V8, but I'm thinking the whisper-quiet Audi R18 e-Tron will become more appealing when I try to snatch an hour or two's sleep. If I can take my eye off the action, that is. 

Midnight at the 24 Hours of Le Mans. Darkness has descended, everything just got a little bit harder and with 13 hours left until the chequered flag (six of those with the lights out) there's still an awfully long way to go. 

The headlines are this: through the late evening it's been a largely incident-free race, but far from dull as all the main protagonists are right where we want them. At the very head of the pack, Toyota and Porsche have been going blow for blow, with Webber and Kobayashi swapping first and second places as the crowd were treated to a track drenched in low, golden sunlight. 

And then, around 23.15, the #1 Porsche came into the pits. It's currently up on four-foot jacks with a diagnosis pending, leaving Toyota's #6 car to pull out a near two minute lead on the #2 Porsche. Question is, where's Audi? Well, trundling around in fourth now with it's other, repaired car a long way back, and showing few signs of troubling the Toyotas or Porsches for outright pace. 

Meanwhile, in the other race within a race, Ford and Ferrari are playing out a fitting tribute to the 1966 contest in the GTE Pro class. Currently, it's Ford-Ferrari-Ford, with a scant few seconds between the top two. Incredible stuff. If they can make it through the night unscathed, this could go all the way to the wire.

But just what is it like driving around here at night? Terrifying, presumably, but to be sure we cornered Richard Attwood who drove to Porsche's first ever Le Mans win in 1970 in a 917K. LMP1 drivers, if you're about to embark on a double stint, listen up.

"By the time it gets dark all the drivers in the race have had a go, so the slow cars knew to look out for us. I never drove a slow car so I only had to look ahead, that's much easier than constantly looking in your mirrors."

So you need to drive a very fast car. Simple. Anything else? "Your vision is narrowed and you know where the road goes, so in some ways, it's easier. The air's cooler at night, too. We call it the happy hour when the damp acts like water injection. I'd need to check, but we probably set our quickest times at night."

Makes it sound easy, doesn't he? It's not. I mention the 1969 race where he broke down with gearbox trouble three hours before the finish, six laps in the lead. "I was elated when it happened. We were doing double stints and after two hours my neck was in agony, I had a headache and the aerodynamics were atrocious. I was ready to stop."

We know the drivers have it a little easier these days, what with air conditioning and aerodynamics that actually work, but there is still nothing sanitised about this monster of a race. Standing on the inside of Arnage for an hour, metres from the cars as they dive up the inside of each other, lock up the brakes and take off flat out towards the Porsche Curves, it's clear every single one, regardless of class, isn't being nursed to the finish line, they're being thrashed. Constantly. For 24 hours. 

It's the sound of each car that really shape your favourites out there. You just can't help it. Right now I'm a little bit in love with the thuggish wallop of the Corvette's V8, but I'm thinking the whisper-quiet Audi R18 e-Tron will become more appealing when I try to snatch an hour or two's sleep. If I can take my eye off the action, that is. 

Midnight at the 24 Hours of Le Mans. Darkness has descended, everything just got a little bit harder and with 13 hours left until the chequered flag (six of those with the lights out) there's still an awfully long way to go. 

The headlines are this: through the late evening it's been a largely incident-free race, but far from dull as all the main protagonists are right where we want them. At the very head of the pack, Toyota and Porsche have been going blow for blow, with Webber and Kobayashi swapping first and second places as the crowd were treated to a track drenched in low, golden sunlight. 

And then, around 23.15, the #1 Porsche came into the pits. It's currently up on four-foot jacks with a diagnosis pending, leaving Toyota's #6 car to pull out a near two minute lead on the #2 Porsche. Question is, where's Audi? Well, trundling around in fourth now with it's other, repaired car a long way back, and showing few signs of troubling the Toyotas or Porsches for outright pace. 

Meanwhile, in the other race within a race, Ford and Ferrari are playing out a fitting tribute to the 1966 contest in the GTE Pro class. Currently, it's Ford-Ferrari-Ford, with a scant few seconds between the top two. Incredible stuff. If they can make it through the night unscathed, this could go all the way to the wire.

But just what is it like driving around here at night? Terrifying, presumably, but to be sure we cornered Richard Attwood who drove to Porsche's first ever Le Mans win in 1970 in a 917K. LMP1 drivers, if you're about to embark on a double stint, listen up.

"By the time it gets dark all the drivers in the race have had a go, so the slow cars knew to look out for us. I never drove a slow car so I only had to look ahead, that's much easier than constantly looking in your mirrors."

So you need to drive a very fast car. Simple. Anything else? "Your vision is narrowed and you know where the road goes, so in some ways, it's easier. The air's cooler at night, too. We call it the happy hour when the damp acts like water injection. I'd need to check, but we probably set our quickest times at night."

Makes it sound easy, doesn't he? It's not. I mention the 1969 race where he broke down with gearbox trouble three hours before the finish, six laps in the lead. "I was elated when it happened. We were doing double stints and after two hours my neck was in agony, I had a headache and the aerodynamics were atrocious. I was ready to stop."

We know the drivers have it a little easier these days, what with air conditioning and aerodynamics that actually work, but there is still nothing sanitised about this monster of a race. Standing on the inside of Arnage for an hour, metres from the cars as they dive up the inside of each other, lock up the brakes and take off flat out towards the Porsche Curves, it's clear every single one, regardless of class, isn't being nursed to the finish line, they're being thrashed. Constantly. For 24 hours. 

It's the sound of each car that really shape your favourites out there. You just can't help it. Right now I'm a little bit in love with the thuggish wallop of the Corvette's V8, but I'm thinking the whisper-quiet Audi R18 e-Tron will become more appealing when I try to snatch an hour or two's sleep. If I can take my eye off the action, that is. 

Midnight at the 24 Hours of Le Mans. Darkness has descended, everything just got a little bit harder and with 13 hours left until the chequered flag (six of those with the lights out) there's still an awfully long way to go. 

The headlines are this: through the late evening it's been a largely incident-free race, but far from dull as all the main protagonists are right where we want them. At the very head of the pack, Toyota and Porsche have been going blow for blow, with Webber and Kobayashi swapping first and second places as the crowd were treated to a track drenched in low, golden sunlight. 

And then, around 23.15, the #1 Porsche came into the pits. It's currently up on four-foot jacks with a diagnosis pending, leaving Toyota's #6 car to pull out a near two minute lead on the #2 Porsche. Question is, where's Audi? Well, trundling around in fourth now with it's other, repaired car a long way back, and showing few signs of troubling the Toyotas or Porsches for outright pace. 

Meanwhile, in the other race within a race, Ford and Ferrari are playing out a fitting tribute to the 1966 contest in the GTE Pro class. Currently, it's Ford-Ferrari-Ford, with a scant few seconds between the top two. Incredible stuff. If they can make it through the night unscathed, this could go all the way to the wire.

But just what is it like driving around here at night? Terrifying, presumably, but to be sure we cornered Richard Attwood who drove to Porsche's first ever Le Mans win in 1970 in a 917K. LMP1 drivers, if you're about to embark on a double stint, listen up.

"By the time it gets dark all the drivers in the race have had a go, so the slow cars knew to look out for us. I never drove a slow car so I only had to look ahead, that's much easier than constantly looking in your mirrors."

So you need to drive a very fast car. Simple. Anything else? "Your vision is narrowed and you know where the road goes, so in some ways, it's easier. The air's cooler at night, too. We call it the happy hour when the damp acts like water injection. I'd need to check, but we probably set our quickest times at night."

Makes it sound easy, doesn't he? It's not. I mention the 1969 race where he broke down with gearbox trouble three hours before the finish, six laps in the lead. "I was elated when it happened. We were doing double stints and after two hours my neck was in agony, I had a headache and the aerodynamics were atrocious. I was ready to stop."

We know the drivers have it a little easier these days, what with air conditioning and aerodynamics that actually work, but there is still nothing sanitised about this monster of a race. Standing on the inside of Arnage for an hour, metres from the cars as they dive up the inside of each other, lock up the brakes and take off flat out towards the Porsche Curves, it's clear every single one, regardless of class, isn't being nursed to the finish line, they're being thrashed. Constantly. For 24 hours. 

It's the sound of each car that really shape your favourites out there. You just can't help it. Right now I'm a little bit in love with the thuggish wallop of the Corvette's V8, but I'm thinking the whisper-quiet Audi R18 e-Tron will become more appealing when I try to snatch an hour or two's sleep. If I can take my eye off the action, that is. 

Midnight at the 24 Hours of Le Mans. Darkness has descended, everything just got a little bit harder and with 13 hours left until the chequered flag (six of those with the lights out) there's still an awfully long way to go. 

The headlines are this: through the late evening it's been a largely incident-free race, but far from dull as all the main protagonists are right where we want them. At the very head of the pack, Toyota and Porsche have been going blow for blow, with Webber and Kobayashi swapping first and second places as the crowd were treated to a track drenched in low, golden sunlight. 

And then, around 23.15, the #1 Porsche came into the pits. It's currently up on four-foot jacks with a diagnosis pending, leaving Toyota's #6 car to pull out a near two minute lead on the #2 Porsche. Question is, where's Audi? Well, trundling around in fourth now with it's other, repaired car a long way back, and showing few signs of troubling the Toyotas or Porsches for outright pace. 

Meanwhile, in the other race within a race, Ford and Ferrari are playing out a fitting tribute to the 1966 contest in the GTE Pro class. Currently, it's Ford-Ferrari-Ford, with a scant few seconds between the top two. Incredible stuff. If they can make it through the night unscathed, this could go all the way to the wire.

But just what is it like driving around here at night? Terrifying, presumably, but to be sure we cornered Richard Attwood who drove to Porsche's first ever Le Mans win in 1970 in a 917K. LMP1 drivers, if you're about to embark on a double stint, listen up.

"By the time it gets dark all the drivers in the race have had a go, so the slow cars knew to look out for us. I never drove a slow car so I only had to look ahead, that's much easier than constantly looking in your mirrors."

So you need to drive a very fast car. Simple. Anything else? "Your vision is narrowed and you know where the road goes, so in some ways, it's easier. The air's cooler at night, too. We call it the happy hour when the damp acts like water injection. I'd need to check, but we probably set our quickest times at night."

Makes it sound easy, doesn't he? It's not. I mention the 1969 race where he broke down with gearbox trouble three hours before the finish, six laps in the lead. "I was elated when it happened. We were doing double stints and after two hours my neck was in agony, I had a headache and the aerodynamics were atrocious. I was ready to stop."

We know the drivers have it a little easier these days, what with air conditioning and aerodynamics that actually work, but there is still nothing sanitised about this monster of a race. Standing on the inside of Arnage for an hour, metres from the cars as they dive up the inside of each other, lock up the brakes and take off flat out towards the Porsche Curves, it's clear every single one, regardless of class, isn't being nursed to the finish line, they're being thrashed. Constantly. For 24 hours. 

It's the sound of each car that really shape your favourites out there. You just can't help it. Right now I'm a little bit in love with the thuggish wallop of the Corvette's V8, but I'm thinking the whisper-quiet Audi R18 e-Tron will become more appealing when I try to snatch an hour or two's sleep. If I can take my eye off the action, that is. 

Midnight at the 24 Hours of Le Mans. Darkness has descended, everything just got a little bit harder and with 13 hours left until the chequered flag (six of those with the lights out) there's still an awfully long way to go. 

The headlines are this: through the late evening it's been a largely incident-free race, but far from dull as all the main protagonists are right where we want them. At the very head of the pack, Toyota and Porsche have been going blow for blow, with Webber and Kobayashi swapping first and second places as the crowd were treated to a track drenched in low, golden sunlight. 

And then, around 23.15, the #1 Porsche came into the pits. It's currently up on four-foot jacks with a diagnosis pending, leaving Toyota's #6 car to pull out a near two minute lead on the #2 Porsche. Question is, where's Audi? Well, trundling around in fourth now with it's other, repaired car a long way back, and showing few signs of troubling the Toyotas or Porsches for outright pace. 

Meanwhile, in the other race within a race, Ford and Ferrari are playing out a fitting tribute to the 1966 contest in the GTE Pro class. Currently, it's Ford-Ferrari-Ford, with a scant few seconds between the top two. Incredible stuff. If they can make it through the night unscathed, this could go all the way to the wire.

But just what is it like driving around here at night? Terrifying, presumably, but to be sure we cornered Richard Attwood who drove to Porsche's first ever Le Mans win in 1970 in a 917K. LMP1 drivers, if you're about to embark on a double stint, listen up.

"By the time it gets dark all the drivers in the race have had a go, so the slow cars knew to look out for us. I never drove a slow car so I only had to look ahead, that's much easier than constantly looking in your mirrors."

So you need to drive a very fast car. Simple. Anything else? "Your vision is narrowed and you know where the road goes, so in some ways, it's easier. The air's cooler at night, too. We call it the happy hour when the damp acts like water injection. I'd need to check, but we probably set our quickest times at night."

Makes it sound easy, doesn't he? It's not. I mention the 1969 race where he broke down with gearbox trouble three hours before the finish, six laps in the lead. "I was elated when it happened. We were doing double stints and after two hours my neck was in agony, I had a headache and the aerodynamics were atrocious. I was ready to stop."

We know the drivers have it a little easier these days, what with air conditioning and aerodynamics that actually work, but there is still nothing sanitised about this monster of a race. Standing on the inside of Arnage for an hour, metres from the cars as they dive up the inside of each other, lock up the brakes and take off flat out towards the Porsche Curves, it's clear every single one, regardless of class, isn't being nursed to the finish line, they're being thrashed. Constantly. For 24 hours. 

It's the sound of each car that really shape your favourites out there. You just can't help it. Right now I'm a little bit in love with the thuggish wallop of the Corvette's V8, but I'm thinking the whisper-quiet Audi R18 e-Tron will become more appealing when I try to snatch an hour or two's sleep. If I can take my eye off the action, that is. 

Midnight at the 24 Hours of Le Mans. Darkness has descended, everything just got a little bit harder and with 13 hours left until the chequered flag (six of those with the lights out) there's still an awfully long way to go. 

The headlines are this: through the late evening it's been a largely incident-free race, but far from dull as all the main protagonists are right where we want them. At the very head of the pack, Toyota and Porsche have been going blow for blow, with Webber and Kobayashi swapping first and second places as the crowd were treated to a track drenched in low, golden sunlight. 

And then, around 23.15, the #1 Porsche came into the pits. It's currently up on four-foot jacks with a diagnosis pending, leaving Toyota's #6 car to pull out a near two minute lead on the #2 Porsche. Question is, where's Audi? Well, trundling around in fourth now with it's other, repaired car a long way back, and showing few signs of troubling the Toyotas or Porsches for outright pace. 

Meanwhile, in the other race within a race, Ford and Ferrari are playing out a fitting tribute to the 1966 contest in the GTE Pro class. Currently, it's Ford-Ferrari-Ford, with a scant few seconds between the top two. Incredible stuff. If they can make it through the night unscathed, this could go all the way to the wire.

But just what is it like driving around here at night? Terrifying, presumably, but to be sure we cornered Richard Attwood who drove to Porsche's first ever Le Mans win in 1970 in a 917K. LMP1 drivers, if you're about to embark on a double stint, listen up.

"By the time it gets dark all the drivers in the race have had a go, so the slow cars knew to look out for us. I never drove a slow car so I only had to look ahead, that's much easier than constantly looking in your mirrors."

So you need to drive a very fast car. Simple. Anything else? "Your vision is narrowed and you know where the road goes, so in some ways, it's easier. The air's cooler at night, too. We call it the happy hour when the damp acts like water injection. I'd need to check, but we probably set our quickest times at night."

Makes it sound easy, doesn't he? It's not. I mention the 1969 race where he broke down with gearbox trouble three hours before the finish, six laps in the lead. "I was elated when it happened. We were doing double stints and after two hours my neck was in agony, I had a headache and the aerodynamics were atrocious. I was ready to stop."

We know the drivers have it a little easier these days, what with air conditioning and aerodynamics that actually work, but there is still nothing sanitised about this monster of a race. Standing on the inside of Arnage for an hour, metres from the cars as they dive up the inside of each other, lock up the brakes and take off flat out towards the Porsche Curves, it's clear every single one, regardless of class, isn't being nursed to the finish line, they're being thrashed. Constantly. For 24 hours. 

It's the sound of each car that really shape your favourites out there. You just can't help it. Right now I'm a little bit in love with the thuggish wallop of the Corvette's V8, but I'm thinking the whisper-quiet Audi R18 e-Tron will become more appealing when I try to snatch an hour or two's sleep. If I can take my eye off the action, that is. 

Midnight at the 24 Hours of Le Mans. Darkness has descended, everything just got a little bit harder and with 13 hours left until the chequered flag (six of those with the lights out) there's still an awfully long way to go. 

The headlines are this: through the late evening it's been a largely incident-free race, but far from dull as all the main protagonists are right where we want them. At the very head of the pack, Toyota and Porsche have been going blow for blow, with Webber and Kobayashi swapping first and second places as the crowd were treated to a track drenched in low, golden sunlight. 

And then, around 23.15, the #1 Porsche came into the pits. It's currently up on four-foot jacks with a diagnosis pending, leaving Toyota's #6 car to pull out a near two minute lead on the #2 Porsche. Question is, where's Audi? Well, trundling around in fourth now with it's other, repaired car a long way back, and showing few signs of troubling the Toyotas or Porsches for outright pace. 

Meanwhile, in the other race within a race, Ford and Ferrari are playing out a fitting tribute to the 1966 contest in the GTE Pro class. Currently, it's Ford-Ferrari-Ford, with a scant few seconds between the top two. Incredible stuff. If they can make it through the night unscathed, this could go all the way to the wire.

But just what is it like driving around here at night? Terrifying, presumably, but to be sure we cornered Richard Attwood who drove to Porsche's first ever Le Mans win in 1970 in a 917K. LMP1 drivers, if you're about to embark on a double stint, listen up.

"By the time it gets dark all the drivers in the race have had a go, so the slow cars knew to look out for us. I never drove a slow car so I only had to look ahead, that's much easier than constantly looking in your mirrors."

So you need to drive a very fast car. Simple. Anything else? "Your vision is narrowed and you know where the road goes, so in some ways, it's easier. The air's cooler at night, too. We call it the happy hour when the damp acts like water injection. I'd need to check, but we probably set our quickest times at night."

Makes it sound easy, doesn't he? It's not. I mention the 1969 race where he broke down with gearbox trouble three hours before the finish, six laps in the lead. "I was elated when it happened. We were doing double stints and after two hours my neck was in agony, I had a headache and the aerodynamics were atrocious. I was ready to stop."

We know the drivers have it a little easier these days, what with air conditioning and aerodynamics that actually work, but there is still nothing sanitised about this monster of a race. Standing on the inside of Arnage for an hour, metres from the cars as they dive up the inside of each other, lock up the brakes and take off flat out towards the Porsche Curves, it's clear every single one, regardless of class, isn't being nursed to the finish line, they're being thrashed. Constantly. For 24 hours. 

It's the sound of each car that really shape your favourites out there. You just can't help it. Right now I'm a little bit in love with the thuggish wallop of the Corvette's V8, but I'm thinking the whisper-quiet Audi R18 e-Tron will become more appealing when I try to snatch an hour or two's sleep. If I can take my eye off the action, that is.