But where? We had visited western France last year and completed the tour with a visit to the excellent Futurscope at Poitiers, so a return trip in that direction was not on. After all, we only had a week. It was then my memory recalled a magazine article in which a vehicle was road tested on a route in Northern Europe that took in the Spa-Francorchamps circuit in Belgium and the Nurburgring in Germany. That sounded like our sort of week.

And so it was that Jonathan and I set out early one Monday morning bound for France via Le Shuttle and the Channel Tunnel. A quick stop at the Folkestone terminal to change some money and in no time at all we were on the wrong side of the road heading south east. As most MG drivers know, it’s no fun just blasting along a motorway, not seeing any scenery, so we soon detoured to the old N42/N43 and headed towards St. Omer, Bethune and Lille along good roads with very little traffic and the typical countryside of northern France. Now, the one thing to say about St Omer is, don’t go there! It is like a black hole, with many signs leading in, but none coming out. After a lengthy diversion, an even lengthier baquette and brie cheese for lunch, we crossed into Belgium and continued on equally fine MG ‘ing roads through rolling countryside towards our target of Dinant.

Staying just north of Dinant in the very picturesque Meuse valley, a detour was made to the old town of Namur to see the old Citadel, parts of which date back to the 12th Century. Then the rain started. Undeterred, we set course through the Ardennes forests towards Durbuy, Trios Ponts and eventually, Stavelot, through what, in different conditions would be excellent MG touring country. As it was, most of the time was spent in heavy rain and in the clouds. It did, however, give a good road test to my newly fitted windscreen wiper delay.

Antique workshop with period metal signs at Anhee near Dinant

Although preparations were already underway for the race, we were able to drive along the downhill section, with the forbidding white wall streaking past your offside door mirror and through Eau Rouge at about 50mph. TV pictures do the track no justice and you cannot believe it possible that men can drive at 170mph in the same place. Let alone when it’s raining. Having stopped for the requisite photographs and got soaked for our trouble, we set off through Francorchamps, which was to me, a disappointing town, but I accept I did not see it at its best.

Lunch taken and starting to dry out, we headed east again towards the Eifel, and across the German border at Losheim. It is only about 60 miles from the border to “The Ring”, and there are a variety of routes that you can take. We chose to go via Musch, which is far more picturesque that its name suggests and well worth a stop. Following the signs for Adenau, these soon make way for “Nurburgring” signs, and the excitement mounts!

The whole Nurburging complex is magnet enough for any motoring enthusiast, with museum, exhibitions, kart track and even an on-site hotel, but the real reason for the visit, “The Nordschliefe”, or a northern loop, which was closed in 1984 to be replaced by the current “stadium” circuit, is accessed away from the main complex just outside the village of Nurburgh itself. The circuit is not open all day but from around 4.30pm most afternoons throughout the summer seems a good time. Being early, we booked into the Hotel Zur Burgh in the village, which we found spotlessly clean, if a little expensive, and obviously used by the motor racing fraternity. Then to the circuit, having checked that there is sufficient fuel. It is over 13 miles around after all. Pay your 17DM at the automatic ticket machine, fasten your seat belts and……WHOOOHAH. It is impossible to explain every bend, curve and dip and brow, except to say that it is probably the most exciting 80 corners on a fairly narrow switchback track that you will ever drive, and is massive fun. The Karussel is particularly memorable for being bumpy and very tight. It is quite daunting, however, to see some of the lurid skid marks disappearing off the track, and contemplating the result, and believe me, there’s more than just a few.

There are things to remember. Ever present Armco barriers, no emergency services if you get it wrong and other traffic on the track, some of it very quick. Everything from racing motorcycles to a circuit tour coach. You do need to watch the mirrors. So very soon, the lap was over and the pulse started to slow down in the car park, but we hadn’t come this far for only one fix of motoring nostalgia, so we had another 17DM worth. This time with No.1 son’s stopwatch timing us,

we did the circuit in a little over 15 minutes, but with the smell of hot brakes, the water temperature rising and the oil pressure gauge fluttering, you do remember that you are a long way from home.

The next day brought bright sunshine and clear skies, and saw us leave the excitement of Nurburgring and head for the Moselle valley and Cochem, with its fairytale castle overlooking the town and the river. Then, a gentle drive south east following the serpentine curves of the river from which the well known German wine takes its name. Vines climb steeply from both sides of the river most of the way to Trier, after which we left Germany and entered Luxembourg, which appears to have very little going for it in scenic terms, but does have large expanses of modern buildings. Quickly across the southern tip of Belgium, and back into France, we were in our fourth country of the day.

NURBURGRING CIRCUIT

Into the very bumpy Karussel at Nurburgring

On the Nordschlife circuit at Nurburgring

The following morning up bright and early to get a parking spot in the city, we did the heritage bit and visited Reims cathedral, which is a truly impressive building, built over many hundreds of years, before going in search of our next motor racing circuit. Heading west from Reims and avoiding the autoroute, we eventually came across the remains of what obviously was the grandstand and pit complex stranded, apparently in the middle of now decaying concrete structures, with their glassless windows, were, when the circuit was being used, on one of the fastest parts of the course. Nowadays, the road climbs gently uphill and away from Reims and the old Thillois corner, passing through with the pits on the right and the grandstand to the left. It is hard to imagine all of the glories of the past that these crumbling walls have seen, until you look more closely at the layer upon layer of painted, peeling advertisements. So French, and now sadly faded, names like Igol Oil, Marchal, Eyquem, Champion, transport you immediately back in the fifties and sixties. Unfortunately, the weeds and the weather are winning the survival battle, and it is probably time that the dereliction is pulled down before it tarnishes memories.