Category: Track Maps of the Past

This track map pulled from the Castrol Book of the European Grand Prix has a fascinating feature that I’ve not seen on any other track map: The location of the BBC Cameras recording the event. Five cameras (and a helicopter) seems almost hilariously insufficient when we consider today’s abundant camera angles of most tracks, but in 1964 it was a struggle to get even this level of coverage.

Since this is from a Castrol book, the oil company was playing up its own efforts in filming the race, with a substantial section of the booklet describing the effort to capture the race; apparently with more cameras than the BBC was using for the broadcast.

Castrol wasn’t just locking their efforts away either, this line concludes the description of the filming: “if you belong to a motor club and would like to see the results of their work, ask the Secretary to reserve a print of the film for showing to you and your fellow members.” The notion of reserving a print of the race film to be enjoyed later by motor club members sitting around the film projector—weeks or months after the race—is utterly fantastic.

Gathering friends to watch a months-old motor race seems ridiculous today, but there’s something reverent and respectable about the scenario that I love. Rather than just tuning in to the live broadcast to see who wins, it’s an honoring of the event; like a football coach re-watching reels of previous games again and again. It’s not watching the race, it’s studying the race.

Even though this scan isn’t particularly well done, you can still see the charm in this circuit map from Watkin Glen’s 1948 layout.

Every purpose-built racing course has a few named features: Eau Rouge or Corkscrew or Karussel. None of these, though, will ever be as charming as “School House Corner” or “Archy Smith Corner” or “White House S”. There’s something.. I don’t know.. adorable about these street course featured named after the farmer who’s house marks a turn.

Beyond that, I just love this illustration style. As I browse old maps of all varieties, I’m always impressed with how these maps draw the viewer in to the experience and provoke daydreams of strolling down these illustrated streets.

They may not be as accurate or informative as today’s more utilitarian map aesthetic, but they sure are a more notable artistic achievement.

I often romanticize the city-street road races of the 1950s and have occasionally wondered why it was only small towns that played host to these magnificent race weekends. After all, many of the racers made their way to Watkins Glen or Bridgehampton or Elkhart Lake did so from New York or Boston or Chicago. Why didn’t larger cities host any of these events?

Then it occurred to me; naturally it’s easier to shut down a little town’s roads for a few days than it would be to gridlock Manhattan for a race weekend. Alas, the oft linked Shell/Ferrari ad has shown us what a magnificent cocktail vintage racing cars and city streets can make. Automobiliac’s recent post entitled Vintage Racing in Central Park, Why Not? has rekindled my desire for this mix of urban vistas and vintage iron. It’s a perfectly good question, “What about Central Park?” Can you think of a more perfect set of roads winding around the beautiful and iconic landscapes that were so marvelously architected by Frederick Law Olmsted and Calvert Vaux.

Can’t you just imagine it? Sitting on a bench by the Reservoir or at the rooftop sculpture garden at the MoMA while a Cooper-Climax T53 or Bandini Siluro or Ferrari Monza accelerates through one of the sweeping bends of the Central Park Loop.

Bradley does a great job of pointing out the potential difficulties (“closing down Central Park Loop—are you crazy?!”), and addresses them in kind (well, they do it for bike races or for filming movies). It works for the Pittsburgh Vintage Grand Prix. Doesn’t New York deserve a world-class vintage racing event? Just look at the map above from race promoter Alec Ulmann’s 1965 proposal of a Monaco-style race in NY and realize that this event needs to happen—simply must happen.

The Chicane emphatically endorses this brilliant idea. Dear Reader, how can we make this happen?

Although this map of the 14.1km version of Spa-Francorchamps might look needlessly complicated, I’m particularly drawn to the data table on the left side. Set your ear on your shoulder and you’ll see an obvious, but clever, bit of quantitative display. Not only does this show the elevation changes of the track, but does it one better by showing the elevation of the track at each point in the track. Despite the complication, I’m surprised that something like this wasn’t more popular in track maps.

More than anything else I’ve seen, this shows not only that there was a dramatic elevation change at Spa, but that the changes were almost constant and not simply a hill along one straight and a dip along another. Excellent.

Approximate translation: The facilities at the circuit Le Mans (13 km long) are improving year by year. The organizers have planned this time new facilities in the village, creating a tunnel 10 meters wide giving access on the road from Tours, speakers, fueling and a new garage for 2,000 cars. The Mulsanne Straight (which allows higher speeds) was also the subject of complete refurbishment.

(Feel free to correct my translation—this was mostly Google Translate)