Take a 333-metre-long concrete oval with 44-degree banked corners, fill it with 62 historic racing cars and motorcycles instead of eight cyclists and let the riders really step on the gas. Sounds like an absolutely crazy idea? Certainly. That's exactly what makes it so great!
Tire wear at the wrong end
The Indianapolis Oerlikon on the open racetrack in the Zurich district of the same name (Oerlikon, not Indianapolis) is probably one of the most intense historic motorsport events in Switzerland - on the space of a medium-sized supermarket. Only half a meter of advertising boards separates the spectators from the tires of the competing vehicles as they roar past. There is confidence in the drivers' vehicle protection. And because the sound collects so beautifully in the concrete bowl, the acoustic experience is almost more impressive than the visual one.
Officially, the drivers only do demonstration laps here. But of course no one really drives slowly - if only out of self-protection, so as not to fall off the bottom of the steep bend and damage valuable sheet metal. After all, no souped-up Opel Kadett Cs and BMW E30s do their laps at the Indianapolis Oerlikon. This is a gathering of top-class motorsport cars with a total value that would be enough to build a superspeedway on the outskirts of the city.
But who wants to be bored on a perfectly smooth asphalt surface with an incline of just 30 degrees? Drivers would rather press themselves into the seat with three and a half times their weight and their car into the springs. Narrow-track suspensions have a clear advantage here. The right rear tire of Benno Allemann's AC Cobra rubbed happily against the wheel arch in every bend. It's best to leave out the unnecessary ballast called mudguards altogether. Pre-war sports cars such as the Alfa Romeo Tipo B or Bugatti 37 A had no problems with insufficient suspension travel.
Full throttle with level
Eight fields of seven vehicles each and a six-pack were sent around the oval three times during the course of the evening. Five of them contained cars from 1926 to 1990, the other four motorcycles between 96 and 22 years old. There was also a stand-up race and four bicycle races, which offered even more intense duels, as there was a real battle for victory.
In the cars, Luciano Arnold and his Brabham BT 36 really let it rip in the field of single-seater racing cars, sometimes lapping after just two laps. Of course: all within a friendly framework. Anyone driving too aggressively or even dangerously would quickly see the black flag and probably lose their chance of being invited back. But gasoline engines sound best under full load, even if you never get past second gear.
This was also proven by the field of pre-war racing cars, which shot their exhaust fumes aft through arm-thick pipes without any recognizable silencing. Sometimes there was even a bit of fuel in the process. When the sun had finally disappeared behind the horizon and the floodlight masts spread their cold light, you could see the Alfa Romeo P3 noisily spitting fire out of the exhaust before every bend.
Trucks
According to a rough estimate, the cars must have reached just under 100 km/h, as they noticeably outperformed the 70 km/h fast bumpers in the bends. Due to their design, the motorcycles had an advantage and were even faster. So fast, in some cases, that the fuel in the steep wall did not make it out of the float chamber and the engines began to stutter.
The sporadic centrifugal force coughing of the racing machines probably best illustrated the strain to which the vehicles were exposed in the two bends with only 30 meters of breather straight in between. But that didn't stop Louis Frey from repeatedly piloting one of only two Ferrari 340 America cars still in existence around the oval. The black 1950 Barchetta survived the ordeal without complaint, as did most of the other cars. There were only two failures - one car and one motorcycle. Some classic car strolls in the countryside manage more.
At 9:10 pm, the magic was over. After more than three hours, even the best evening has to come to an end. With road dirt, tire abrasion and soot particles on our faces, we had one last grilled sausage before heading home - almost numb, but happy.
