English
Italian
Monaco Grand Prix Historique 2018: Legendary Tales
LEGENDARY TALES
MONACO GRAND PRIX HISTORIQUE
Words by Andrea Balti
Photography by Gian Romero
I barely walked a dozen steps through the paddock and I’m already wondering in which year I’m in. Yet I am sure that time travels do not exist, or is it just a matter of points of view? Quickly moving my head from right to left, I try to capture the frenzy of mechanics and drivers who are doing the last interventions on the cars, before having to move and arrange them to line up in the pits so to enter the track for the qualifications. It is incredible to see the maniacal care and attention to detail, from the simple polishing of fiberglass shells, up to that man who is more than half an hour in the cockpit, upside down, using a spray at the base of the pedal board of an over forty years old McLaren. Not to mention the countless open-hearted surgeries, under a tent in the midst of hundreds of people running back and forth like a swarm of wasps – but hey, everything I can manage to do is to hear the strong roar of the engines of the most varied Formula 1 here and a smell that mixes petrol, oil, exhaust gas, brake, tire … in short, anything that could come to mind. Like every two years, the Grand Prix Historique of Monaco is taking off and the Principality is ready to welcome legendary cars and drivers, to relive those times when for cutting the finish line at the end of the race you had to possess diamond-like attributes.
Introduced in 1997 and now reaching its eleventh edition, the Monaco Grand Prix Historique is a real institution in the motoring world, undoubtedly representing one of the key events in the world of historic competitions. Even the charm of the city circuit of Monaco, ready to welcome today’s F1 a few weeks later, helps and makes the views even more vivid, thanks to the fact that the track has changed very little, almost for nothing if we make exception to a logical improvement for what concerns the barriers, once really improvised and extremely dangerous. The Automobile Club de Monaco manages to put together an event that is nothing short of amazing, able to combine the passion for racing with the desire to hear the roar of proper and masculine engines, without forgetting that you are faced with more than unique pieces of insane value, like the pre-war cars that are part of the first group, a delight for the eyes to see them in the paddock, let alone being a few meters away from them when they enter the narrow curves of the Principality. Bugatti, Frazer Nash, Era, Amilcar and Delage are just some of the many goodies awaiting spectators and fans from all over the world for an unparalleled weekend.
The groups alternate under the sun on Saturday morning and we go from F2, F3 and race cars to open wheels, up to front-engined sports cars. It’s complete lunacy, as they push hard on the throttle, sometimes hitting the barriers, entering the chicanes sideways and coming out a few millimeters from a total disaster. The audience holds their breath, frowns at the passage of the noisiest, but smiles because aware of living an emotion now far from the current racing world. Aston Martin, Ferrari, Jaguar, Maserati, the big names are all here and the clock runs fast, too fast. Taking advantage of a few breaks, some historic road cars, such as a Ferrari Daytona, a Jaguar E-Type, an XK Roadster and then a Lamborghini Espada and the Marzal, a concept car presented in Geneva in 1967, come down on track too. Category D is composed of Formula 1 from 1961 to 1965 and therefore we find numerous Lotus, but also Brabham, BRM, Cooper and so on. The pace increases, the risks run by drivers and gentlemen drivers, we just cannot leave our greedy looks from the track, trying to enjoy every single moment of an event that catapults you totally in the golden years of motorsport. Group E with F1 from ’66 to ’72 and group F with F1 from ’73 to ’76, the silhouettes become more aerodynamic, huge spoilers arrive at front and rear, unmistakable colors and sponsors, which have become authentic symbols, exactly like the G group with F1 from ’77 to ‘80. There is also time for a parade of vintage motorcycles and even in this case the soundtrack that they give, combined with the use of suits and helmets (in most cases) of the era, recreates a truly priceless atmosphere. Icing on the cake, the F1 Heritage parade, a small number of cars driven by high-caliber drivers like Mika Hakkinen, Thierry Boutsen, John Watson, Riccardo Patrese, Eddie Irvine, Mark Blundell. The following day, race Sunday, the weather has been less magnanimous and as often happened during the unforgettable achievements of the magical Ayrton Senna, some heavy rain made everything more dangerous and forced the drivers to pay much more attention than usual.
But unlike winners and losers, without taking anything away from those who have crossed the finish line in front of everyone else, what excites more about this Monegasque kermesse, to be written down in large numbers every two years on your calendar, is the atmosphere you breathe. The sensations you live looking at how they intervene on the engines, brakes, suspension. There is no exasperated contemporary technology or the sense of detachment that can be experienced by someone looking at technicians and mechanics of today’s F1. These mechanics dirty their hands, tighten and loosen bolts and for talking with their teammates they really need to shout. This Formula 1 is alive and exudes passion and life from the moment you step into the paddock and you are hit by a completely different world than the one we are used to. There is nothing obvious and seeing pilots with some year more on their shoulders, slipping into the narrow cockpits and being exposed with almost the whole body out of the car is crazy. Strolling in the pit lane, just a few centimeters from every car and watch the concentrated and satisfied looks of those who will soon ride one of the most magical circuits in the world – I cannot even imagine how emotional would be to face the Fairmont hairpin at the wheel of an ex-Lauda Ferrari, cut the corner and throw down the gas with the right intensity to avoid risking a possible spin, all while making an inhuman effort on the steering wheel, throwing towards the next bend to enter the tunnel at a speed that would scary me to death even on a current supercar.
The Monaco Circuit is unique, but these cars are the real protagonists of the situation and so I walk down the pit-lane to the end of the straight, then back to the Rascasse corner and so on, trying to recognize each car – even those that was crossing the finish line when I still had to be born – and I realize that what is lacking in motorsport today is precisely this pure relationship that makes a driver and a machine one and that allows the public to really appreciate a sport that no more knows these kind of sensations. Maybe time travel really exists, and I think this is the way and above all the best place to find out why Ferraris are red, Bugattis are blue, or simply because everyone, as children, would have wanted to become Formula 1 drivers.
Related tags to article
