No crean todo lo que ven (SPA-ENG)

Una pena el resultado que merecía algo mejor por el inicio del torneo número 85 de la categoría más importante de nuestro país.

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Don't believe everything you see

Yesterday, Sunday, February 15, 2026, marked the start of the 85th season of Argentina's most popular motorsport category, Turismo Carretera, or TC for short. I already mentioned several historical facts about it in my post just a couple of days ago.

It's curious that it still retains its original name, "turismo carretera" (road racing). That's how it all began: touring cars racing on our country's roads in a competition that, from the very beginning, proved to be incredibly interesting. However, it's been many years since it stopped being raced on highways; the vehicles became increasingly powerful, and the roads were too dangerous for such high speeds. A driver named Pedro Doumic, born in Dolores, Buenos Aires province, reached 248.8 km/h in his victory at the Gran Premio de La Pampa in 1986. Driving at 250 km/h on one of our roads? Suicidal; we're not in Europe or the United States.

Two fatal accidents: that of three-time champion José Mouras, who died in 1992 in the Lobos race in Buenos Aires province when his Chevrolet crashed into an earthen barrier after a tire blowout; his co-driver also died in the same accident two days later; another great driver, Osvaldo "Pato" Morresi, met the same fate in the La Plata Grand Prix when he crashed into an embankment; his co-driver also died in that accident. A total of 72 drivers lost their lives in the TC before it definitively abandoned road racing in 1997. Since then, races have only been held on permanent circuits and without co-drivers.

Leaving history aside, let's return to reality: yesterday morning, the first race of the season took place. It was far from the Federal Capital, more than 2,550 kilometers away, in the tourist city of El Calafate, in the province of Santa Cruz, famous for the Perito Moreno Glacier, one of the few that continues to advance, and which every few years puts on a breathtaking spectacle seen by millions of spectators worldwide. The culmination occurs when the water pressure collapses the ice bridge that forms periodically.

Surrounded by hills that mark the beginning of the end of the Andes Mountains, lies the Enrique Freile racetrack, modern and well-maintained, set in an arid, almost inhospitable landscape. Fifty-six vehicles arrived there ready to put on a great show, and it certainly was.

A circuit that barely covers 4 kilometers in length to accommodate 56 large, heavy, and very powerful racing cars—a guaranteed spectacle, of course.

In the morning, the three qualifying heats that determined the starting positions for the grand final took place, and just after midday, the starting order was given. As expected, there were several safety car periods, crashes, cars going off the track, retirements, and just about everything else you can imagine. It's entertaining in some ways, but also frustrating when the competition lacks continuity. Two cars starting side-by-side are exciting, although it's difficult for the car on the outside to overtake the one on the inside, especially on a short circuit where the straight isn't long enough to reach the speed required in these situations.

The biggest surprise was the winner, a debutant—not the driver, but the brand: the beautifully presented BMW won by the skin of its teeth, pursued for almost the entire race by a Ford Mustang whose driver was indeed a newcomer to the category. A curious combination, indeed.

But the category had another, even bigger surprise in store for us: the winner didn't actually win. We learned a few hours later of the disqualification because the beautiful German car failed the post-race technical inspection; it exceeded the maximum compression limit allowed by the regulations.

A grand finale followed, with the top three finishers reviewing the footage in the "drivers' comfort zone," just like we usually see in F1; they rest, relax, and refresh themselves, watching what they missed while focused on driving. Then came the podium, the trophy presentation, and the final celebration with the traditional giant bottles of sparkling wine. A beautiful spectacle, which we later learned wasn't the true ending.

Julián Santero, the eventual winner, was supposed to pass the trophy to the young debutant Nicolás Moscardini, who in turn would pass the second-place trophy to Agustín Martínez (Ford Mustang), and Martínez would then pass the third-place trophy to Jonatan Castellano (Dodge Challenger). Everything settled, although that's not what we saw.

It's a shame about the result, which deserved better, given that it was the start of the 85th tournament in the most important category in our country.