1928 Bentley 4 1/2 Le Mans: Don’t break down, don’t get lost and keep going

Our wake up chant for the 8th Peking to Paris Rally, words that carried us through 37 days of grueling competition. On Day 37, those words echoed in our minds as we navigated the gridlocked streets of Paris, escorted on the wrong side of the road by the police, to reach the finish line at the Gendarmerie National. As we crossed the line, the roar of the crowd and the pop of champagne confirmed our first-place victory. It was a moment of sheer triumph, intensified by the sight of my family, whom we hadn’t seen in over six weeks. We got to Paris - we bloody won it.

But just two days earlier, our victory seemed in jeopardy. Exiting Genoa, we missed a critical turn and found ourselves lost in a maze of toll roads, tunnels, and roundabouts. Panic set in as we realized the red Chevy was just seconds ahead, with the Alvis hot on our tail. The clock was ticking. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, we reached the timing control with just 25 seconds to spare, keeping our hopes alive. Later that day, fate intervened—the Chevy’s alternator failed, causing them to drop to ninth place. All we had to do was reach Paris.

The rally tested us to the limit. Day 18 in Kazakhstan was particularly brutal. We raced across the desert, following a rough, gravelly pipeline route. The steering wheel fought us constantly, threatening to veer us off the narrow embankment. A tailwind whipped up clouds of talcum-like dust, making visibility and breathing difficult. By the time we reached the campsite, we were exhausted, and the warm beer was a bitter end to a tough day.

Mechanical issues tested us throughout the rally. In Baku, we changed our tires in a garage, struggling with unfamiliar equipment. In China, a set of points wore out, forcing Mike to improvise a temporary fix with materials from our toolkit. The relentless vibration of the desert roads wreaked havoc on the car’s components, from the radiator to the exhaust. Every night, I spanner-checked the car, cleaned the points, and serviced the engine, while Mike prepared the route for the next day.

Despite the challenges, we managed to hold our own against newer, faster cars. The Bentley proved its worth in the desert, on motorways, and in steep mountain climbs. The key was knowing when to push and when to conserve the car. We led the rally for ten days, often neck-and-neck with the Chevy and the Alvis, but it wasn’t about being the fastest—it was about minimizing mistakes.

Looking back, the Peking to Paris was more than a race—it was an adventure of a lifetime. The people we met, the stunning landscapes we crossed, and the challenges we overcame made it an unforgettable experience. While there are always things you might wish you had done differently—perhaps a small luxury to cool a well-earned beer—every trial taught us something valuable. Would I do it again? Probably. Because in the end, it’s the trials and triumphs along the way that make the journey truly remarkable.

Story by Andy Buchan & Mike Sinclair