When the Nürburgring Forgets Its Own Soul

For as long as I can remember, the 24 Hours of Nürburgring has been the race that made motorsport feel human. Not untouchable. Not elitist. Not reserved for factory teams and million-euro budgets. It was the race where diversity wasn’t a marketing slogan, but a reality on the grid.

GT3 monsters. Old BMWs. Clios. Dacias. Astras. The weird, the slow, the loud, the brave. Professionals and amateurs sharing the same track, the same night, the same rain, the same chaos. And that is exactly why the RauhRacing story hurts so much.

Because if a fully regulation-compliant Renault Twingo, built with transparency, passion, community support and written confirmation from the authorities is “no longer wanted”, then we are not talking about safety or rules anymore.
We are talking about attitude. And honestly? It reeks of arrogance.

“Cars like ours are no longer wanted at the 24h Nürburgring.” That sentence alone contradicts everything this race once stood for.
The Nürburgring 24h is not Le Mans.
It is not Daytona.
It was never about prestige.
It was never about being the most professional, polished or corporate 24-hour race in the world.
Its magic was that it wasn’t.

It was special because amateurs could stand next to pros.
Because dreams built in small workshops mattered.
Because cars that made people smile were just as important as cars that made headlines.

The RauhRacing Twingo would have been a fan favourite from day one. Just like the Dacia Logan. Just like the Opel Manta. Just like every “too slow”, “too weird” car that made the grid feel alive.

And the most absurd part? The Dacia Logan is still allowed to race. The BMW E36 318ti is still allowed. Old projects are protected by grandfathering, but new ones are shut out.

So this isn’t about safety. It isn’t about regulations. It’s about quietly closing the door behind you once you’re already inside.

What frustrates me most is the hypocrisy. The Nürburgring loves to talk about diversity. About how many classes they have. About how open and colourful their grid is. But the moment a team like RauhRacing actually tries to live that spirit, they get told: “You’re not wanted here anymore.” And not even honestly. Not transparently.
Not professionally. But with vague emails, shifting standards, and a complete lack of accountability. That is not how grassroots motorsport dies loudly. That is how it dies quietly.

As a fan, I don’t watch the 24h Nürburgring only for GT3 cars. If I wanted that, I could watch any endurance race in the world. I watch it because nowhere else do you see this mix. Because nowhere else does speed matter less than soul.

But slowly, the small classes are being pushed further into the background.
They’re becoming decoration. Marketing tools. Proof that “diversity still exists”, while in reality the door is being closed behind them.

Misha Charoudin said it perfectly in a comment: “I’ve seen too often that “the organisation” just does not care or understand.” When even someone with his platform sees the organisational red flags and walks away, something is fundamentally broken.

And now RauhRacing pays the price. After investing:

  • Time
  • Money
  • Community trust
  • Personal health
  • And an unbelievable amount of heart

Their dream gets taken away in the dirtiest possible way: Not by rules. Not by performance. But by politics.

So no, this is not “just motorsport business”. This is under all criticism. This is beneath the level the Nürburgring claims to stand for.

And now more than ever, we need to support:

  • The small teams
  • The weird projects
  • The slow cars
  • The dreamers

And especially RauhRacing.

Because they did everything right. They asked first. They planned properly. They followed the rules. They built transparently. They created a community. They believed in the spirit of the race. The race just stopped believing in itself.

If we let this pass quietly, the Nürburgring 24h will slowly turn into just another GT endurance race. And the one thing that made it special will be gone. Not with a bang.
But with silence. And that would be the real tragedy.

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