|
Originally Posted by davhut
My thoughts on Regazzoni:
This guy had magic, for me. My favorite driver for a very long time. I named one of my cats after him...Clay (it was a huge & gray Russian Blue).
Long Beach Grand Prix, 1976. Stomped the opposition when there was some in F1. Fastest from first practice, wire to wire win from pole in the first time race on a new track race against the likes of Scheckter, Mario, Peterson, Pryce, Niki, Alan Jones and more. Twenty minutes before the flag
on Ocean Blvd. he was sitting against the pit wall with Lauda, sunning
himself, driver's suit pulled down to t-shirt, peeling and eating many
oranges...he stood, wiped his hands on his overalls and hopped into the car
and blitzed them on a new type track that punished any mistake.
The following year I asked him to sign a few photographs, one particularly
close up portrait, and he smiled and said "remember this one," laughed
and asked for a copy.
Silverstone 1979. Trickey race with some damp, some dry, cold and overcast (the Northants way), he let Jones take the fight to the now powerful Renault turbos and won when they all burned up. A BRDC official tried to hand him a bottle of champaigne which he refused with a hard look for a bottle of orange juice, Arabs and all sponsoring the Williams. After the race I spent the better part of the day searching around London for "Clay Regazzoni Pull Jeans and Jackets," to come away with only a keychain.
Sittling with Emerson and Clay in his wheelchair at the Marlboro team
hospitality tent at Toronto in 1987, they were telling a joke in some
foreign Euro-language and laughing so hard I couldnt help but join the
laughter despite not understanding a single word. Later, Emerson wouldn't
tell me what was so funny!
This man embodied all the reasons I lived and breathed motor racing back
then, and enjoy the vintage and historic scenes today: undying passion,
grace, humor, talent, balls the size of watermelons, and a very handsome
looking manly man. No skinny EU-jockey here. I didn't know him well, my loss, but from what I could observe, he was possessed with an unbridled joie de vivre. We should all be so fortunate to live well, die fast, and leave others talking...
He won't be forgotten in our household.
|