"It's Like a Second Life for Me" – How a Quadruple Amputee Conquered the Le Mans 24 Hours

The Le Mans 24 Hours is, by definition, a very long motor race. A twice-around-the-clock endurance classic widely regarded as the world's greatest motorsport event, its scale and grandeur are only matched by its 'Triple Crown' stablemates: the Monaco Grand Prix and Indianapolis 500.

The old adage claims that just completing this physically and mentally draining contest should be considered a victory of sorts. After all, it's not known as the Grand Prix d'Endurance for nothing. But that doesn't make the cliché any less true, especially given the obstacles awaiting each of the 180 drivers who will compete across a total of 60 cars.

The facts are humbling. Practice, qualifying and the race rack up a Formula One season's worth of mileage in just four days. Then there's the diverse mix of cars fighting for several class victories within the same race. The Armco barrier-lined public roads. Speeds exceeding 200mph. The almost obligatory wet weather. Professional drivers. Amateur drivers. Unreliability. Darkness. Tiredness. Fatigue. Human error. Accidents.

Now imagine conquering all of the above, deflecting the best this heavyweight prizefighter of an event can throw at you, without any arms. Or legs.

A cruel joke? Not for Frédéric Sausset, who last Saturday became the first quadruple-amputee entry in Le Mans' 94-year existence. 24 hours later he saw the chequered flag.

It takes a lot to eclipse the likes of Olympic great Sir Chris Hoy and World Cup-winning French goalkeeper Fabien Barthez, both of whom also made their Le Mans debuts this year, as well as the multitude of movie stars that provided ample excitement among more casual viewers. However, it's testament to Sausset's incredible achievement that his was the story that resonated loudest last weekend.

Motor racing has trod a similar path before, of course, most notably with the former Champ Car champion Alex Zanardi, who returned to professional competition just two years after an accident claimed both his legs. Then there are the increasing numbers of disabled ex-service personnel who have turned their attention to racing with prosthetic limbs.

Brave individuals one and all. But what sets Sausset apart is the sheer scale of his disability, and the steps his SRT 41 team and Le Mans' organiser, the Automobile Club de l'Ouest (ACO), have taken to put him behind the wheel on the biggest stage of all.

Four years ago Sausset's life changed forever. A fit, active 40-something, he thought nothing of scratching his thumb on an innocuous-looking wall. That was until a related bacterial infection resulted in the loss of both legs just above the knees, most of his left arm, and the lower third of his right. He spent a month in a coma.

Try to comprehend for a moment losing so many of the tools you rely on to carry out simple, everyday tasks, all as the result of a grazed finger. You can't – it simply does not compute.

After six months of care, Sausset returned home from hospital a physically and mentally changed man. Unsurprisingly, it took him time to adjust to a life so unrecognisable from the one he had previously known. But as the days ticked by a plan began to form in his mind, a plan that came to fruition at Le Mans last weekend.

"I have dreamt about racing since I was a child, but after the accident it was a challenge that I had to complete," he says, dressed in a specially designed race suit the morning before the race. "It took some time for this idea to formulate in my mind. I woke up from the coma in August but it wasn't until October that I began to have ideas.

"This is the best race in the world! As a child I used to live nearby and came here with my father. For the people of the area it is our race."

That Sausset, a motorsport novice before his accident, could compete at Le Mans owes as much to sportscar racing's reliance on amateur drivers to swell its ranks alongside their professional counterparts as it does to the practical and technologic difficulties that were overcome. There are restrictions, of course, but with enough races under your belt, not to mention a sizeable wad of cash, theoretically anyone can enter Le Mans.

Well, not anyone. It's difficult to imagine a quad-amputee attempting to compete in a domestic club meeting, let alone the world's biggest motor race.

But apparently this didn't faze Sausset, who was aware of the ACO's 'Garage 56' project for radical cars running outside the general classification. This had previously spawned the likes of Nissan's DeltaWing and Zeod RC, which completed the first electric-powered lap of Le Mans' Circuit de la Sartre.

Unsurprisingly, organisers were initially sceptical about Sausset's proposal, which shifted the emphasis of Garage 56 from car to driver.

"Frédéric came to see me, just as many others do," says ACO technical director Vincent Beaumesnil. "You cannot refuse a man who has such a story to tell, but in my mind I didn't believe it was possible. But then I really felt his ambition and willpower. What happened to him is difficult to imagine. So if this project could be a way for him to forget what had happened we wanted to help.

"We organised for Fred to meet people with the skills to progress his project: doctors, technical people and sponsors. Basically anyone who could help. We did this for three years. No-one rejected it, but I think some didn't truly believe it could happen. In fact, until this week we were still facing some criticism."

But happen it did, albeit with a degree of ingenuity.

Operating a car, racing or otherwise, has remained fundamentally the same for over a hundred years. And so, despite missing his feet, legs, arms and hands, Frédéric and his team were forced to work within the constraints of able-bodied drivers. They began aboard a smaller, less powerful VdeV racer before progressing to the same sort of Morgan sports-prototype chassis used by other teams contesting Le Mans' LMP2 class.

Steering remains conventional, albeit with Sausset's single bespoke prosthetic arm attached with a pin and ball-joint to an adapted steering 'wheel'. Turning this arm over steers the car left while pulling it down switches momentum right. It's a simple solution, but one that requires immense strength in Frédéric's right shoulder to change direction at speed while incurring several G through the corners and under braking.

Meanwhile, a pressure-sensitive pad under each of Sausset's thighs is wired to the accelerator and brake pedals. The more force he exerts on each determines the rate of acceleration and braking, just as his feet would have previously done. Both the seat and steering wheel can be removed, allowing his team-mates to drive the car as they normally would.

This is quite remarkable given that so much of a racing driver's feedback and speed comes from what they feel through their hands, fingers, feet and toes. The pressure all of these exert on their surroundings also maintains the body's stability against G forces.

Remarkably, these drawbacks appear to have little effect on Sausset.

"It's the same feeling," he says, referring to the sensation he felt while driving before and after the infection. "It's like I am driving with my feet and hands. This was the case the first time I drove the VdeV car. And, actually, the Morgan is easier to drive because of the increased downforce."

So far, so very inspiring. But it shouldn't be forgotten that manufacturers like Porsche, Audi and Toyota shell out tens of millions fighting for victory and showcasing their latest technological advancements at Le Mans. 12 months of planning go into their preparation, while amateur drivers – without whose money the event could not be staged – similarly want bang for their buck. Plus there's the question of whether a driver with no previous experience of able-bodied racing is safe to do so without conventional controls against faster cars.

In short, is this 200mph, big-stakes environment a suitable arena for what could be considered nothing more than a PR stunt?

Actually, it is.

While the ACO concedes Sausset's story is a heartwarming one, it's also fully aware of the implications. Racing the adapted VdeV car and subsequent testing of the Morgan LMP2 revealed problems that were rectified, while Frédéric's license was only granted on the condition he could extract himself from the car if it were stranded, just as his able-bodied counterparts are required to.

Then there's the general feeling within the paddock, a place where hostilities are often never far from the surface, and especially so at a multi-class race featuring cars and drivers of varying speed and ability. With so much at stake you could perhaps forgive a sense of foreboding. But, as Beaumesnil explains, any question marks were soon erased.

"I always thought we had a chance to succeed but also a chance to fail," he concedes. "Fred was not a racing driver before his accident and has very little experience since. But he is here, the car is working, he has been accepted by the officials and has received good feedback from the other drivers. We are really, really proud of this."

For Sausset, the approval of his fellow competitors was a significant moment.

"The professionals who drive for the big manufacturers have been incredibly supportive," he says. [Three-time Le Mans winner] Benoit Treluyer said to me: 'You are one of us.' That meant a lot, like I have been accepted."

But what about the wider implications? While the UK may not be perfect, considerable strides have been made to improve the lives of people living with disability in this country. Both Sausset and Beaumesnil believe France still has a way to go before its disabled population are fully accepted by their society.

"When we opened up Garage 56 to Fred we hoped it would have an influence on the way the disabled are viewed all over the world," says Beaumesnil. "It's for their mobility but also a message of hope to those who live with a big handicap. A guy like Fred could stay at home, cry all day and decide that his life is finished. Many human beings would not have the strength to conquer this.

"We are late with this in France and Fred realised it. Sometimes in life, if you don't have the media attention you also don't have the priorities. So anything we can do to send a message is a good thing. You need to give these people a stage, and Le Mans can provide that. There has been huge interest in Fred's story this week.

"In the Paralympics the disabled compete on their own side. Here they are together with able-bodied drivers."

Sausset agrees.

"This was to prove that anybody can do it, even those in society who you wouldn't think could. It's like a second life for me. Yes, I am disabled. But I can do this just like you. I don't look back; what happened has happened. I am alive and living my dream.

"I hope this will alter how the disabled are perceived in society. Disability is more widely accepted in the UK than France. There's a different mentality."

This kind of change in attitude takes time. Nevertheless, the standing ovation Sausset received from 260,000 fans as he completed the race on Sunday afternoon suggests he might have already gone some way to altering perceptions.