Suzy was right, I was neglecting her, I wasn't fit for marriage. We ran too much, as was my nature. Sarah paid an even higher price, entering my life wasn't worth the ticket, especially then. To our great fortune, Tom and Freddie were born, the true treasure, the legacy that offers meaning to gambling. Helen lost everything, because she bet on me, on what I could really be. And who I had become, but too late, just before goodbye.
These were my women, along with Ping, companion of my reckless youth, and of course Jane, who shared some of my worst years. The many other adventures were just adventures, thrilling games between the darkness of the night and the darkness that accompanied my thoughts, nothing to give too much importance to, nothing to which I could attribute the meaning of my existence. And yet... How many remember me as a champion and how many as a libertine?
The answer is simple and banal, it doesn't even need to be reported. I was the rock icon, the quintessence of the fabulous seventies, the trivialized prototype of the playboy who reaps conquests. Instead, thirty-one years after my death, I want to reiterate that I was something else, but above all a pilot. Yes sir, I loved driving more than anything, even though I didn't have Niki's methodical dedication, Jackie's meticulous rationality, or Ronnie's demon of talent.
![James Hunt](https://www.formulacritica.it/wp-content/uploads/2024/06/2-7-jpg.webp)
Sometimes I happen to look at myself in the mirror, even from up here. My friend Niki laughs, pointing out that all in all I don't look that young, that my features have aged prematurely. “Better not to have been too beautiful, age thus becomes more generous. And where time doesn't reach, fire takes care of it: it smooths out wrinkles.” The good Lauda is like this, cynical and caustic even towards himself, even in the afterlife.
However, he is very right, too many excesses in my life, too much going beyond, but for me it was the only way to exist. I couldn't imagine anything other than crazy adrenaline, I've always let myself be guided by the extreme. Not that I wasn't afraid or afraid: despite what people say, I was definitely thinking about death, because unfortunately I have encountered it many times during my career. It would have been stupid and extremely presumptuous not to speak to her face to face, with an open heart, as one does during a prayer.
But racing was something unique, something I couldn't give up. The stubbornness that led me to want to race in a Mini arranged as best as possible, equipped as best as possible, is something that has never abandoned me throughout my career. And it was a powerful weapon, especially in the worst moments. I still remember the rigidity of the floors on which I slept, when I didn't have enough money to pay for decent accommodation, during my first trips to the smaller formulas.
And above all I remember the sense of confusion and disappointment when Lord Hesketh told us that we would no longer be able to compete in F1. I didn't let it show, but it was like a punch in the stomach, the kind that makes you taste bile for days and days and erases the deliciousness of lobsters and champagne. I felt like I was hanging by a thread, and not metaphorically at all, as I waited for days for calls from the various teams. I stood next to the telephone, cigarette in hand, torturing the telephone braid in the hope that, twisted and twisted, it might surrender and bring me the sound and the voice in which I trusted.
I have to thank Emerson, his incomprehensible choice, and Wilson who convinced him. Had it not been for them, those who identify me as just one of the many icons of the rebellious years would actually be right. I had shown good things, I was no longer the terrible and catastrophic one."Hunt The Shunt“, my victory in Zandvoort retained a certain flavor of legend, but I agree that it was still too little to consign me to the annals as an F1 champion. And that was what I aspired to.
Niki had already won her first title, I was already in danger of being out of the running. Finally the call from McLaren, I almost thought it was a joke in bad taste. But it was all true and I started winning in that car. It certainly doesn't need to remind you of what happened in 1976, you know it by heart, thanks to a good film, fictionalized and sweetened enough to make it a successful film. I still savor every moment of that memorable season that gave meaning to my being a pilot.
Afterwards came difficult times, tensions, extensions of myself that I didn't want to believe in, but with which I had to live. Something had broken and it is difficult to admit it, even from this privileged position, from above that governs everything. I was lost, I think, or perhaps I simply hadn't quite found myself yet. The main problem is that the lure of speed, the thrill of risk, the seductive lure of female bodies was no longer enough for me. It was all already known, sadly abused, boringly known.
I have hit rock bottom in many ways, there is never just one way to reach the depths. I denied my passion, gave up my career, betrayed the trust and promises I had made to my wife and children. But above all I abandoned myself, letting myself drift, without expectations, without prospects. For some I could still represent a myth but for myself I was just a shadow.
Luckily, life can give us many redemptions. In some ways she was kind to me, I realize. I had become a champion and a star, things that don't happen to just anyone, but like an idiot I had wasted everything, so I didn't expect another chance. However, I was given the opportunity to turn the page, to reverse course, to find a guide thanks to which the journey would be easier.
I met Helen and nothing has been the same since. I found myself, rediscovered, recognized. In what I should have been long ago. I reconnected with my children, finally accepting the role of father, I reattached my broken pieces, fully admitting what I was. A man, not a super hero, not the eccentric and pleasure-loving pilot who always needed to be noticed. I was finally James and that was enough for me.
Unfortunately I had to leave right at the best moment, when I had made peace with myself. My heart betrayed me, the accomplice of so many emotions abandoned me, while I finally began to recognize it as something more important than a simple organ. But that's okay, I'm still grateful.
I apologize to those of you who will read me today and perhaps expected a bold story, the testimony of fiery nights, the apology of the many punches I have thrown. These things were part of James, but they are not the only way to tell it. After all, I have had enough time to reflect in these years, I could have become a sage.
Look over there, there's still Niki laughing under his hat, he just can't believe the fact that he's become a mature man. “James, there's no competition with women, but what if we finally tried to challenge ourselves at Fuji? I can put in a good word with someone to recreate the conditions of that day.”
I don't even need to give my consent, I put on my black helmet, the three red, blue and yellow lines seem to announce a rainbow. The single-seaters are already on the starting grid, the volcano is hidden by the clouds. I'm still a champion and it's time to prove it, now that Niki feels it too. The cars leave, accelerate, the challenge begins, finally eternal.
Crediti foto: F1
well done Veronica 🙂 nice article