Right at 50 years ago, a classmate who went to Eagle River for the World Snowmobile Championships every year raved about this scrawny French-Canadian named Gilles something-or-'nother. Not being a sled fan per se, it meant little in my preferred racing contexts. But the schoolmate knew what he'd witnessed, anyway.
Then I remembered the name when he showed up in the Pro F-Atlantic series in 1975, mostly unsupported save for some Skiroule dollars from sledding. He reportedly lived in a station wagon with his wife, with but a sole, unsupported year of Formula Ford as the only car training the year prior.
He started winning almost immediately, against big names and bigger money in much-bigger teams.
Then I finally saw this guy in Can-Am, running second in the '77 Can-Am at Road America before running out of gas on the last lap, if recalling correctly. He was in a one-off Walter Wolf car that original driver Chris Amon, of all people, called "absolutely undriveable" — before refusing to ever climb in again. To any seasoned enthusiast, it clearly was.
The next year, I'd worked my now-three-year race reporting gig to a point of getting creds at both the Glen and Montreal, the first GP held at the latter. I was told that at barely 18, I was the youngest to get one at any Canadian GP, so naturally, Media sticker on cracked windshield, on the Thursday I asked permission from a track worker "for my story"— and we ran four laps in an old, flat-black Opel wagon — and even scuffed the still-damp paint on the hairpin curbing before any F1 shoe got to.
I may well have reached 1.01g in the process.
This quickly became probably my best, or at least most-inspiring, racing weekend of my life to date. My friend and I shared an elevator ride with the Wilson sisters from Heart, we clapped and even cried with teams and drivers (Lauda, Laffite, Hunt, Regga, Stuck, more) when Mario walked into the "official," cred-only, hotel-top bar I don't even recall being old enough to drink at.
The applause was a bittersweet celebration of Mario's title, the tears for the fallen Ronnie Peterson.
Jean-Pierre Jarier replaced Ronnie, and flat-ass outran the field by a full second a lap until Lap 50. His moment, and he knew it. But when Jarier lost oil pressure, the place erupted like Vesuvius because Gilles Villeneuve was in the lead!!!
He stayed calm by his own standards and won the race, the first time a Canadian had done so. The only other to achieve this to date is his only son. Gilles has since been the favorite driver of my entire life, and that includes several friends who've done great things.
We all know what happened forty years ago. But whomever said "Time heals all wounds" must have never seen Villeneuve.
Thank You Gilles, for showing us anything, or at least many things, are indeed possible if we think they are. :checkered:
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