Go like Hell: A Country's Dream for the Grand Prix

[Joe]

Part One: The Man

"What car is my favorite? The one I haven't even dreamed of yet." - Toan Nguyen, CEO and Founder of VinFast
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They say automobile racing is as old as the second car. That statement didn't quite ring as true in Vietnam, where cars toys for the rich and wealthy to push and shove through the congested streets of Saigon and Hanoi. Out in the back country, however, it was a different story. It was here where antiques and relics were pitted against each other, relics of the 1960s and 50s, pushed to their absolute limit on ungraded dirt roads, euro-style. Races that went up to 24 hours, through the night. Going so fast that life became but a blur. Drivers out here drove for their lives. They couldn't remember their name, what village they were from, what kind of car they even drove.

But, one thing was for certain, Vietnam loved to go fast. Vietnam loved to race and that love would be capitalized by a single man.

On the world stage, Vietnam had never quite done anything. In fact, it had never even raced Formula One before. That was all set to change with Toan Nguyen, the CEO and Founder of VinFast. He was 43 years old, heavy-set (rare for a Vietnamese man), and six feet tall (also incredibly rare for a Vietnamese man). Like many wealthy men of his generation, he was chauvinistic and had a certain Saigon flair about him. If anything needed to be said, he always took a limousine to work, reading the Da Nang Chronicle during the one kilometer coastal commute that often lasted thirty minutes or more because of rush hour traffic. He didn't care, time moved at his own pace.

This was Da Nang, the city where the Automobile Revolution was happening. It was a place where the nirvanistic, peaceful, Shangri-la like quality of Vietnam and the ugly horns of industralism met. It was a city where one could speed along the coastal road, the picturesque blue ocean to the East, the wind flying through your hair, a pretty girl in the passenger seat, and not a care in the world. It was the perfect destination for one of the largest growing companies in the country to set down their roots and build.

VinFast, the biggest business in the city, was growing so fast that the locals joked that the rise of Da Nang's skylines wasn't measured in metres, but rather, kilometers per hour. Just last year, in 1994, VinFast had topped it's best year yet, selling nearly one million cars. The city alone consumed nearly forty percent of the nation's synthetic rubber and thirty percent of the lead. Toan Nguyen, on the eve of the Lunar New Year decided that he had a vision. A way to make a statement for Vietnam and a world: VinFast cars were about performance, style, and audacity. On the day after the announcement of the 1995 Grand Prix, Toan Nguyen took to the stage and told the country that a secret new car was in the works, built by the new subsidiary of VinFast: VinFast Performance.

It would be known as the VinFast F1 W01 Turbo.

Vietnam was going to race Formula One.

 

[Joe]

Part 2: The Myth

"Nothing says Vietnam more than a big engine in a tiny car." - Dat Tran the Constructor

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The big wigs at VinFast never forgot the day when Dat Tran showed up into the office at Da Nang. His handshake was firm, calloused from days spent tinkering with cars and tilling over rice fields. He didn't even have a dime to his name, but he carried himself as if he was the richest man in the room. The VinFast executives saw Tran to be what he was on the surface, a bumpkin villager masquerading as a working class man in a cheap suit. But, then again, VinFast Performance weren't yet talent scouts. They saw him as another charlatan mechanic showing up and asking for money. They didn't know that Tran was a champion driver, and the most renowned car mechanic in the region, operating out of a tiny hut in a village that had an average income of less than $100 a year.

Tran pitched his idea to the VinFast executives. He pledged that in 180 days, he'd be able to marry a powerful engine that he had been working on for the better part of five years into a small, lightweight chassis that was disused. It was going to be cheap and it'd be a hell of a car. It'd be able to compete with the little Japanese rockets that the youth were driving. It would be for Vietnamese created by Vietnamese. What the hell. The VinFast executives were sold. It wasn't just the idea, but the man. Tran was instantly likeable. He was loud and boisterious, speaking a high volume from years of talking over revving engines, and when he spoke, his eyes had a faraway look of dreams: dreams of creating the perfect car.

They gave him $10,000 and 180 days.

Dat came back in 90 with an old souped up Cobra. The chassis was found in a junkyard. The engine was his own design, a small block V8, cheaply made but wonderful lightweight high-performance power plant. The Cobra had a low profile, with gills on it's side, glittery wire-spoked wheels, and a long nose that hinted at the muscle underneath the hood. Tran spared no expense in restoring the car. VinFast hired him on the spot with a salary of $100,000 a year, retaining his services permanently.

When VinFast Performance was created, Tran was brought onto the team right away to serve as project manager.