London to Mexico Rally 1995

When the Bentley Continental was conceived and given that name it was obviously envisaged as a means of luxurious, reliable, fast transport in which to cross the English Channel for Continental Europe and probably with no further destination in mind than Cannes or Interlaken.  We had no such ideas when we bought Hero, our 1955 Bentley Sl Continental but since owning it we have twice driven it to Continental Asia and to North Africa so when the chance to go onto another Continent, the Continent of South America emerged, we found it irresistible.

The London to Mexico Rally was going to be severe by our standards of ‘continental’ motoring as we are not rallyists, but more so, we are not competitive rallyists, merely seeking a lengthy holiday of endless driving in foreign lands with a touch of adventure and the fascination of historic roads.  There would be eighteen countries to drive through; amounting to 10,460 miles which would result in an average of 418 miles per driving day.  We would lose a total of five days from our overall thirty, with two days for the passages from Lisbon to Sao Paulo, Cartegena to Colon and one day off in La Paz.

A severe rally means more than rough roads, high mountains, hot deserts and long days.  We knew at the outset that this rally would be to International FIVA regulations and besides being highly competitive it would be restrictive.  Firstly we had to obtain International rally licenses, then the car had to be fitted with a full RAC roll-over cage, a plumbed in fire extinguisher, 4 point seat harnesses and the fire-wall had to have any holes blocked up so as to stop flames, fuel or gases entering the cabin.  During each Special Stage we would both have to wear approved racing helmets which would be quite a chore, especially in the heat.  The major concern though, involved being prevented from continuing with the rally at any point along it, as the rules clearly stated that unless we did a minimum of one Special Stage every two days or failed to depart within 30 minutes of our mornings’ start time we would be excluded.

With these fears we were to receive another shock just before departure at The Ramada Hotel, Heathrow.  In the auditorium of that hotel, after outlining with military precision the way the rally would run, Nick Brittan introduced his staff and the two service crews driving the AA patrol vehicles.  He went onto say that the London to Sydney Rally competitors had abused those AA services and that as a consequence the London to Mexico Rally would restrict the time spent on the road by the patrol vehicle to a maximum of 15 minutes per vehicle and additionally that they would not make themselves available during the overnight stops at the hotels.  We were now confronted with the realisation that we must repair our own car or get assistance locally, quite a contrast to the two long Asian rallies we had undertaken where we were followed by a mobile workshop that could weld, turn or fabricate anything, anywhere and at anytime.  And so it was with a little anxiety that we departed on a grizzly morning following an unknown route involving two Special Stages bound for Portsmouth. 

We would be driving 10,000 miles to Acapulco in Mexico without a map but following a Road Book giving precise instructions to turn left or right at so many kilometres or fractions thereof.  The first Special Stage was held in a boggy wood in the Earl of Pembroke’s estate at Wilton House, and we crept cautiously round slithering our way until it was over before heading for Portsmouth.  We had done the minimum of the one Special Stage within our first two days and all was well.  Meanwhile the blue fin-tailed Mercedes had leapt up and demolished both a tree and its nearside front wing, an Australian Datsun had smashed its rear shock absorbers from their mountings, and the Mexican entered Porsche had spun through 360° slowing him down forever more. 

The sea crossing was calm and the garbled radio announcement at 6.30 the next morning had us panicking that we had overslept, but all was well until we had departed the hold and queuing up to go through Customs we discovered our first flat tyre.  Like a bad omen we had heard the smash of glass as we had arrived at the Ramada two days previously; it was our headlamp glass which had dropped out and went straight under the front left wheel, a shard of which had obviously penetrated our reliable American 235 x 75 x 15 Michelin tyres.  However, it was one of only two punctures which we were to receive during the entire journey despite enduring some of the worst roads any modern motorist can imagine.