Matt, H et al,
It's all too true, but I've never really struggled with hangovers on the way down to La Sarthe, we've usually had morning crossings to Caen or Cherbourg. So the journeys down there, as you say Matt, are full of a sense of anticipation and wondering what particular high jinks are going to occur over the next 72 hours.
However, all this exitement is subsequently ruined by the regular two to four hour traffic jam to get into the curcuit. Trying to make egress into the place is like the Trials of Atlas, who I'm confident, had he been sitting with me sweating on vinyl seats for four hours, would have told the Gods to forget it. It doesn't seem to matter what time I get there, the queue begins somewhere half way round the ring road. Why? I'm convinced the jam is a Gallic conspiracy designed to cause ill temper with your fellow travellers. How many times have we all shouted "Look at that arsehole pushing into the queue. What a twat!!". In 1998, I jumped out of the passenger seat, went into the McDonalds for a cheeky McShit, was soundly bollocked by the Manager for not buying anything, and to whom I told to "McFu ck McOff, you Mc c**t", popped into the tobacconist/pornographers next door, browsed the top shelf, bought 200 Marlys and then sauntered out to find our car had only moved about ten feet further up the road.
Anyway, these days I'm relegated to sitting atop the hot engine in the Commer on vinyl leatherette, sweating like a flasher running through the woods at a girl's school. It's similar to taking a bath in a puddle of horse sweat. And for some peculiar reason I don't think I've ever travelled there in a car with aircon (except once in a Range Rover when the owner was too tightarsed to put it on. (In fact he was so mean, if he had a mouth full of gumboils he wouldn't give you one to ease the pain).
So what I guess I'm trying to say is that it don't really matter which way you go down Saffronrob, it's a hot sweaty uncomfortable slog and you're bound to get there much later than expected. Unless of course you fly, which is a different matter entirely. And Matt, it's an "aircraft" to the profesionals

Good job you didn't ask about the drive back though. I have some strange tales of the unexpected about that, many of them not really suitable for a family website, some of which involve quite a lot of diarrhoea.