Have u ever wanted anything soo bad and a few years later you got it? Like.. something remarkable?
Yeah, when I was 12 or 13. I was always sick and thus missed school so often that I couldn’t follow the teachings. I was quite desperate to ever find a job later if I couldn’t neither achieve an engineering degree nor accomplish a physical job, being too weak. At that age, I still believed in religion and I was praying God every night before to sleep.
One night, I asked “God” if I could ever be a racing driver! I believed those drivers were some kind of superhumans with lightning quick reflexes and aptitudes that were denied to common mortals…! To my highest surprise, the answer came very clearly and loudly, directly inside my brain without transiting through my ears. Something extremely impressive and awesome.
At 24 years old, I had made enough money to buy a cheap 6 years old racing car, a Mustang Shelby GT350-R (which would now be a rare collector piece, worth perhaps 200’000 $ or more…).
Out of 11 national races, I won 8 times the class, once the whole category — did nothing on my first (too nervous) and last races (engine worn out), missed a 9th win because I hadn’t filed enough gas in the tank and thus ran dry. Before a slalom on a military airstrip, a known driver came to me and gave me tricks for two spots; his advice was so helpful that it propelled me to be the fastest of 150 competitors in any cars, some much more expensive and efficient than mine. After the race, Mr. Peter Sauber, who later became the one making Formula 1 cars for Mercedes, offered me to race one of his sport-prototypes cars for the next season: if I could pay half of the expenses, he would care for the other half.
But what I was planning was rather to win the Swiss championship in “stock”, unmodified cars category. For that purpose a 426 CI – 425 HP Plymouth HemiCuda would have done the job.
Anyway, during the winter I took a truck driving job between Switzerland, Spain and Portugal. One night in a Lisbon bar, I met one of the most pretty girls I have never seen. We finished the night loving in bed, but unfortunately I didn’t speak one word of English at the time; and of course no Portuguese, so we could not talk and she disappeared… When I woke up in my truck’s cabin the morning of the next night, I switched on the radio tuned to “France Inter” and immediately heard in French (the
very first words coming out from the radio):
“the Swiss driver Joseph Siffert died of an accident at Monza race track…” He was a very good guy appreciated by everyone. I was deeply moved and decided at once not to race anymore. The next year I was in Polynesia in view to stay there forever, but....
Now I’m again in Portugal, unknown and alone. Seems it went full circle… What should have I done?
Sorry for the much too long post...
