With only a three-foot guardrail between us and the racing cars, we'd pitch a tent and proceed to crack open the beer. This was in Mossport, where Formula One, Two and Three zoomed and screamed.
It all came back to me this evening as I enjoyed 'Rush', the movie about James Hunt and Niki Lauda, directed by Ron Howard. What a great movie -- especially if you had actually been there in the pits, smelling the gas and oil and thrilling to the high and delicious snarl of those engines as they screeched and took off. What were we thinking? Camping right beside the track, vulnerable to.....whatever?! But we were invincible. That's what your twenties do for you.
It was either Mossport or St. Jovite, those were the Canadian racetracks that featured the biggest and fastest drivers and cars in the world. Back in the early '70s, safety was....who cares? It was speed, speed and speed. Those weekends were crazy. And peeling out on Sunday afternoon? Every guy thought he was Jackie Stewart, turning the 401 into a ridiculous death ride. Seriously.
But I survived. James Hunt died at 45 of a heart attack. Lived fast, died young. Niki Lauda is still going strong and fathering children. But Hunt had the most fun, if the movie does him credit, which I believe it does. Wine, wine, wine, women, women, women and song, song, song.
Why else would you risk your life?
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