Brace yourselves…. We’re heading into Switzerland… cuckoo clocks and all!

Traditionally, the last few days of the Italian Job consist of a dash from one city to another stepping ever closer, with every stop, to the Northern French region of Nord pas de Calais where we board the (hopefully industrial action free) ferry, bound for Dover.

From Turin we headed toward Mulhouse in France where we’d arranged a visit of the Schlumpf collection (one of the worlds most amazing collection of motor cars … more later). The most direct route to Mulhouse necessitated a section of road through Switzerland. We approached the Grand St. Bernard Tunnel; the pass was already closed, and went through what nowadays passes for a border control. The sleepy customs officers (both Italian and Swiss) looked particularly disinterested in us and gave our passports nothing more than a cursory glance. Although, I could swear the Swiss dude actually raised his eyes and tutted as he looked at Gordon’s!

We exited this famous tunnel in Switzerland and progressed northwards passing through some typical ‘Heidi’ scenery with great big cows wearing even greater bells around their necks dotted all over the pretty steep hillside. We stopped at some services where in addition to food and beverages a brisk trade in cuckoo clocks and the ubiquitous Swiss army knives was being done. Have to say their motorway services seriously put our rabble to shame. They provide, in addition to clocks, chocolate and penknives, wait for it…. good, well-cooked, nicely presented food for an agreeable amount of money. It’s a novel idea I know but maybe someone should tell the mob that run our Motorway services that it can be done. Leaving Switzerland and entering France was even less of a fuss than entering was. We were however, still chuckling loudly as we had moments earlier passed the town of Wankdorf and as you might imagine this gave rise to much merriment and childish, schoolboy phnarf phnarf comments and innuendo.

At Mulhouse we headed to the Schlumpf collection housed in the French National Automobile Museum. It’s been at least ten years since I was there last and I must say it amazed me for last week than it had the first time I visited. It literally is an immense open plan space filled with original and pristine motorcars. Check it out on line at this website http://www.schlumpf-collection.com/collection-schlumpf-ang.html

From Mulhouse to Reims and an organised visit of Maison Mumm and its caves (cellars), one of the oldest and best known Champagne houses of them all. We fought hard, but couldn’t resist the photo opportunity which presented itself in the form of Jiri and Tereza’s Czech Republic Mini van… sponsored by and covered with logo’s of their brewery called Chodovar (damn fine beer too). Thus the famed courtyard at Mumm witnessed the coming together of beer and wine and on this occasion I think the beer won (see http://www.facebook.com/theitalianjobevent for photographic evidence of this fine kodak moment)

We were London bound the next day and as we journeyed ever closer to Calais from Champagne, the weather really began to draw in for the first time in the whole ten days. We knew we were getting close to our final destination when it started raining heavily and we employed our windscreen wipers on full speed.

We arrived discreetly at the Novotel, London West in Hammersmith early enough in the day to park our motors, meet our loved ones, check in and enjoy a few well earned beers in the bar before preparing for our gala dinner dance that evening. Our guests of honour – other than the Jobbers of course – were Variety Club ambassador Robert Powell, who played Yellow in the original 1969 movie and a delightful young lady called Jamie Lee Faulkner who was Miss England Runner Up 2010 and Miss Universe (she too works tirelessly for Variety Club).

I did my usual bit of saying a few words of thanks to all assembled, presented some sports awards to a number of teams with Giulia’s assistance, pulled the prize draw tickets out of the box and then introduced Mike Hazsko Deputy Head of Fundraising at the Variety Club and a very old friend of Giulia and mine. He spoke a little about what the charity does and thanked us all for our efforts. We then watched a really brilliant film about their work and collectively it felt as if we all began to realise what the past ten days had all been about. Raising money for children’s charity. That’s been our strapline since we began the Italian Job in 1990 and it still rings true today. Watching the Variety Club film was a poignant reminder that all teams who take part in the Italian Job do it selflessly and with the truly noble aim of making a small difference to the lives of other by so doing.

All participants in the Italian Job are heroes and worthy of an almighty slap on the back and shake of the hand. Together we have raised nearly 2.3 Million pounds and I know there is much more to be raised too. My enthusiasm and that of my mother Giulia to carry it on is without question. We do need help though, so please do what you can and I don’t mean give us money. Really I don’t. I mean don’t stop talking about the event and telling anyone who will listen why it is so special. Don’t stop directing people to http://www.italianjob.com or to our facebook page http://www.facebook.com/theitalianjobevent and most importantly, don’t stop taking part.

The more people who know about it the better. Your help in shouting about it to them is invaluable.

Getting our wheels in line on the ‘strada’ to Turin…

Getting our wheels in line on the ‘strada’ to Turin… and our maps all bent out of shape!

We were all feeling a mighty sense of euphoria following our time at Monza. I gave Ferrari dude a telling ‘I know you know I know you almost stuffed it’ kind of wave as we passed him at the exit, or at least that’s what I tried to convey in my friendly wave.

Following Giorgio’s now much respected road book towards the motorways and ultimately Turin was a mistake in this particular instance. It lead us out of Monza and smack bang into roadwork’s, traffic jams, signs which I know were illegible even to the Italians and more chaos than you could shake a stick at. I noticed pretty quickly three of our teams – two classics both towing trailers and a new cabriolet – go wrong but I guessed my girl like screams to alert them of their error was drowned out by the chorus of car horns, truck brake noises (great whooshes of air) and their owned panicked screams from within their cars as they contra flowed into an even more insane stream of moving vehicles. More by luck rather than by judgement we managed to take the correct junction and somehow followed the indecipherable yellow boards which said ‘deviazione’ and before we knew it we were smack bang in the middle of the city of Turin.

I’ve been lost before in Turin and it wasn’t a pretty or a very brief moment, so I was even more diligent than normal, determined not to let it happen again. I also believe Turin has these gaping Satnav ‘Bermuda Triangles’ which render devices little more than a box with a screen and some pretty shapes and arrows. Ken was my wing man so I was pretty sure we’d be fine … it was Ken after all and Giulia was at the back sitting behind Ken… well that’s where she started anyway. With no notice, not even a sharp intake of breath to advise me….. Ken screeched at the top of his voice LEFT… turn LEFT. He did so a mere nano second before the point of no return where even a joke driver like me knows it would be futile to attempt to turn. I yanked the wheel left with all my might and by the skin of my teeth we made it…. though Giulia was at this point sitting directly behind me and glaring at me via the rear view. I tried to ignore her and decided not to use the rear view again, which I think forms part of the Italian driving test, so I knew I’d be ok.

Next day we drove from Lingotto to the Grande Officine Reparazioni… which is a giant museum complex crafted from the industrial warehouses of the old railway rolling stock repair workshops. The museum celebrates 150 years of Italian Independence and by Jove it was blooming impressive. The series of exhibitions only runs to the end of November so if you’re going get in quick.

We were met promptly at 2pm by 2 Torino Traffic Police Cars, 6 Torino Traffic Police Bikes (yes 6) and a lone uniformed officer with the word ‘Ranger’ emblazoned across his chest and motorbike. Seems he is like a special constable, a volunteer who lends support as and when it is needed. He had this pretty ancient Moto Guzzi whilst the traffic boys were on new BMW’s and Suzuki’s and his trousers had a two inch wide yellow seam whist the traffic police had none. He did wear a scarf and a couple of times when he whipped up on the inside of the Minis I couldn’t help but wonder who was this masked, lone ranger.

These guys did us proud yet again and provided a completely unnecessary, much appreciated and greatly valued police escort to us from one side of their city to the other and high up onto the roof top test track, which sits above our hotel, once the offices of FIAT. They opened their throttles as soon as their two wheels hit the asphalt – even the lone ranger – and they all took the parabolic curve of the test track at full pelt… crazy dudes, but lovely dudes. They dismounted and accepted a round of applause from us all and our profound words of thanks. Speaking with them, it seems that this type of duty is what they love to do, and I know this to be the case too from previous conversations with UK traffic police who have in the past assisted us with convoys. The only difference is; in Italy and other countries the people in the offices see such a duty for what it is and approve it as PR exercise whist back home sadly the pen pushing bean counters run the show. We could have UK police support but it would cost us money I’d rather give to the Variety Club Children’s Charity! On the rooftop we did the last of our special stages orchestrated by Giorgio and demonstrated by yours truly. Upon completion, we performed another buzz round the curve and this time Jiri very nearly came unstuck sideways and was a fag paper away from messy end. We descended and returned to our hotel less than 500 metres away. We got suited, booted and that night enjoyed a delicious banquet in the restaurant on the roof top test track called ‘La Pista’. It was an amazing night and thankfully, we were all walking (having left our cars parked up at the hotel below) and relying on the single lift to the roof for our means of transport home.

Next day we were headed across the mountains towards Mullhouse ….

Where all roads eventually lead to Monza

I’m writing this blog on Friday November 4th from my hotel room in the Mercure Mulhouse Sausheim hotel. Peering out through the 70’s style curtains I see a cloudy sky with some specks of blue where the sun is fighting its way through and a sea of Minis in the car park below. It is some three days since our drive from Florence to Turin via the hallowed asphalt of Monza.

We caused Lucky Luciano, the garagista from the Florence hotel, a minor heart attack on Tuesday morning when we left but I’m sure he’ll recover fully and in time to berate the next motorist who dares to drive into his garage and presume he can park anywhere he chooses… huh, the very thought!

The road out of Florence is one of those roads which makes you question the notion that the ancient Romans were expert road builders. The motorway from Florence to Bologna which we were compelled to take, is notorious as one of Italy’s most congested. It is also one of the most twisting, uneven and unpleasant stretches of motorway I’ve ever driven. The road is littered with a never ending number of expansion joints which thud away incessantly as you drive over them providing an almost hypnotic, rhythmic and annoyingly repetitive beat. Though we left Florence in a convoy with the Cooper S being driven by one of our team we lost them pretty early on, but not by design I can assure you. It seems they too were suffering the expansion joint issue and thus decided to slow down to a more tolerable pace and increase the interval between thuds, whilst my logic was to go faster so as to merge the thuds into one long continuous drone.

Our destination was Turin but it was via the Autodromo of Monza, an not inconsiderable detour, but a very worth while one. We were looking forward to some more special stage fun and games as well as a blast around the circuit at the climax of our day there. We’d teamed up with a benevolent Italian outfit called ’Sei ruote di speranze’ (6 wheels of hope). These guys are awesome and use big fat cars such as Ferrari, Lamborghini, Porsche and even a Zonda to give wheelchair using children, their siblings and family members a day of abandon and carefree enjoyment. They enjoy thrilling rides around the circuit or in sidecars on classic motor bikes, or in a fire engine and police cars with sirens blaring.

The circuit complex was completely taken over by them so initially when we met up within the circuit we used the old pits from where we processed down past the crowds of families to a large parking area where we’d set up our cones for the next round of special stages. Smack bang in the centre of this parking area was a raised kerb. It was circular and was probably no more than 12 inches or so in height and around 20 or so feet in diameter. We were I guess around half way through the last of our three stages when a Ferrari 460 burbled past us and parked up at the entrance to our parking area. Please remember that all the time we had been at Monza we were being deafened by the sounds of cars pummelling around the circuit at what looked to us like supersonic speed, police sirens screaming and wailing and the deep ‘internal organ vibrating’ supercars which emitted either a deep bellow of a road or the highest pitch whine you’d ever heard! So, as I was saying this 460 stopped and a Ferrari dressed due and his son got out and started walking (I’d be lying if I didn’t tell you the guy was definitely strutting) along the line of our Minis. I approached and said hi and explained who we were and what we were doing. I asked him if he’d like to do one of our special stages for a bit of fun to which he replied no. Then Trina, who clearly loses all grip on reality whenever a Ferrari can be seen, approached and I thought hello hello, what’s she going to ask the dude? She asked him nothing. She asked me to ask him if she could sit in the car for a photo…. Ferrari dude said YES! So off they went back to his car. Thinking nothing more of it I returned to watching our teams performing the special stage. Then all of a sudden and completely out of nowhere, the Fwerrari, with Ferrari dude driving and a smiling Trina in the passenger seat screamed into life and sped across the car park with it’s engine whining at a decibel level that manages to hurt but not permanently damage your fearing. I was smiling now and so was Ferrari dude, who I think knew his audience was well and truly captivated. Everything seemed to stand still as this £100,000 + motor car zoomed across the asphalt with smoke billowing out from all wheels and thick streaks of black rubber being etched into the ground as Ferrari dude played the crowd. One doughnut, one handbrake turn and then near disaster…. I think he was trying a crowd pleasing J turn (the money shot) and as his back end spun round and more smoke billowed out I thought to myself, I hope he’s seen that raised kerb bit in the centre or else he’s gonna thwack his pretty shiny car pretty bloody hard against it. As he eventually came to a standstill at the end of the J turn, it was very obvious he’d had no clue whatsoever about where the kerb was. On later inspection the black track marks he planted with his tyres were no more than a foot away…. I thought to myself that it just goes to show that even plonkers drive really nice cars. Trina was still grinning like the cat that got the cream from within Ferrari dudes car though I did notice a little stomach turning look of phew! I’m pleased I had a light lunch earlier. Ferrari dude then dropped Trina off and disappeared off no doubt rehearsing with his son the story he would tell his club mates minus I’m sure the near miss.

We finished our stages and at bang on 4pm we re-assembled at the old pit lanes for our three laps of fun on Monza. The guys at Monza are great and pretty much told me we could set the speed of our laps ourselves with our pace car. So Ken stood out through the sun roof and took snaps, while Gareth drove. Speed increased to what I think was a discreet but enjoyable level and after three laps of the fairly long circuit our teams exited and all of them had big beaming smiles on their faces. Not everyon can say they’ve driven their car on on of the worlds most important and historic circuits. We fiannly left Monza at around 5pm and made our way towards Turin and the Lingotto Roof Top Test Track. Monza’s maze of very confusing roadworks meant a few teams took wrong turns early on but by 10.30 or so that evening all had made it in safely and without incident to our hotel.

I’ll bring you details of our Turin adventure tomorrow ….

Over the hill and into Chiantishire

Monday morning saw us waking in Florence just across the road from the River Arno. The sun was shining and our route today would take us far away over the hills and into the heart of Tuscany’s Chianti region.

The hotel we were staying in was fine (that’s the best word I can think of to describe it) and whilst there was nothing about it that shone particularly, equally there was nothing about it which caused me to vent my frustration in finger tapping style on TripAdvisor. The biggest niggle I had was the rather ungenerous proportions of the bathrooms. Ken told me later that he had figured out a way to sit on the toilet whilst simultaneously dangling his feet into the bidet for a thorough scrub. Car parking arrangements here were archaic and chaotic to say the least. It was’nt so much a valet service… more a thoroughly annoyed chap called Luciano (the garagista) who shouted at you in Italian when you drove in and gestured wildly at you pointing furiously at your keys. It seems that he needed to tell us all precisely where to park our cars before we could park. Then we had to leave our keys with him for ‘security reasons’. Not too bad you might think….. But it becomes a royal pain in the arse each time you need to return to your car to get something or check you hadn’t left something! But hey, that’s how they roll in Florence and who am I to question such traditions. The Minis all formed a block within the 20 Euro a night car park, which meant the majority were hemmed in by the minority. Not a problem though because Lucky Luciano was around to assist… only he wasn’t or at best he was hard to find….all the time!

On the morning of our departure for Chiantishire, having successfully found Luciano and persuaded him to hand over our keys we all managed to extricate our cars from the fume filled unventilated garage and make our way up top. Once up top and with a lung full or two of fresh city air we performed an operation for which the Italian Job has become pretty adept in recent years…. we took over the roadway behind the hotel and owned it presidentially, creating a hefty hard to shift mass of people, cars, mechanics, tools and other paraphernalia…. not intentionally of course, quite by accident in fact.  Not a great deal was moving and so what if a coach needed to reverse in to the area, or if a coach load of tourists needed to get off on the next stage of their ‘lets see Europe in 5 minutes tour‘…. We had Minis to get out onto the road and we were working to a clock…. Giorgio’s clock to be exact and by jiggery, those Minis would cross that start line bang on time come hell, high-water or an irate coach driver or two.

Out on the roads we headed away from the city and towards Greve in Chianti for a check in time control. The ‘Piazza’ where we parked in Greve was beautiful and clearly the centre of this small ‘steeped in centuries of wine making tradition’ community. We parked in such a way to show off our cars to all passers by, of which there was quite a steady flow. Nick Gerolemou, who the previous evening had paid £100 (at auction I hasten to add ) for a ride in the back of team 46’s Cabriolet prepared himself for what lay in store. He would be their prisoner passenger for the next stage through the cypress tree lined roads leading to our next destination, the fabulous Badia a Coltibuono. He donned his biggles goggles and they were away and we were all left wondering if we’d ever see him again or infact what condition he’d be in of he did make it back.

Badia a Coltibuono is a beautiful estate in Chianti which produces great wines and boasts one of Italy’s oldest and finest gourmet cooking schools. We parked all our cars in the inner courtyard and they only just fit (see pic)  Almost as soon as we finished parking, Gareth arrived to take his customary position squatting in a manly fashion beneath the now open bonneted E Type to check what was happening. We split into two groups and went our separate ways on guided tours of the gardens and the magnificent house which was once a monastery. Both groups then met again for a delicious lunch. The sun was really hot and we all sought shade in the garden beneath this incredible magnolia tree as we sipped our soft drinks and devoured our lunch. A most warm welcome was enjoyed by us all. Thank you Badia a Coltibuono. We will be back.

When the time came, we exited the courtyard through the regal arched gateway, pipping and tooting our horns and waving goodbye to our marvellous hosts. We headed back out onto the roads of Chianti following our road books back to Florence. Dinner that evening was at the hotel and the excitement about the next day at Monza was clear for all to see (more on that next time) The service van performed their last checks and thanks to a generous Florence Mini Club member who managed to find a fan for team 7 (aka: always hot and bothered) Gareth, Rog and Jono worked till pretty late putting it in its rightful place…. so far so good.

We will return to Florence one day for it really is a magnificent city. Our friends from the Florence Mini Club who coincidentally host the 2013 International Mini Meeting, were sensational in their support and friendship. I know we will work with them again on subsequent editions of the Italian Job. Grazie mille ragazzi!

So there we have it… another day gone and another city to say goodbye to…. Monza beckons now and all our heads are firmly focussed on that.