Man in essence thrives on passion. Whether it is aimed and structured, and called ambition. Or raw and physical, and called lust. Emotional and romantic even, and referred to as love. In its bare core, it is all one and the same thing. Passion.
In the early days, man’s passions were mainly focused on simple things. Such as: what shall we eat tonight? Or, how shall we stop from freezing to death?
Then, as humankind got organized and invented a mother lode of gizmos, all the way from the wheel to mass distribution and consumerism, man along the way also discovered the luxury to be passionate about more trivial things. Such as other humans. But also a vast arsenal of the most sundry thoughts, objects and pastimes.
We commonly refer to all the things in that arsenal as hobbies. Or diversions, for those who, on the surface of things, go about it more casually. Or leisure, for the more literary evolved among us.
Having the luxury of hobbies, diversions, pastimes, careers, ambitions, affaires, flings, wimps, casual sex and the lot, is probably man’s greatest achievement. The homo antecessor had no need for paintings or books or romance. He was too busy not starving or freezing to death. Simply avoiding extinguishment.
Imagine a Don Juan living in Neanderthal times. Or an Alexie Kirillov. What use did a tribe on a mammoth hunt have for a womanizer or a desperate thinker? When food needed stocking on the cusp of that long winter? Back in those days, you were either a hunter, or you were send off to gather dead wood. And those send out for the latter could forget about getting their hands on a woman. Somehow, amidst all their primitivism, the idea of blood being diluted had already caught on.
Then, a Neanderthal painted a red disc in a cave in what today is called Cantabria, by the Atlantic coasts of Spain. And the wheel was set in motion. Man invented ways to make fire, the wheel, electricity, heating devices, food preservation techniques, cars, cities,… All destined to make life, or aspects of it, easier.
And along with it came passion. To fill the gap left by the now vanished need to go hunting or gathering dead wood.
Passion for art and religion. Or for more earthly things such as cars or stamps. It is passion that convinces a perfectly reasonable man, who just before cuddled his offspring, to mount into a suicide machine and storm out onto a track in a quest for illusory glory. It is passion that unites men around a common interest and, as it sometimes is, divides those same men.
There is no doubt that Jason White and Scott Urick share a passion for cars and motor racing. It is what made their paths cross. On different tracks around the world, where they raced together. It is what brought them joint roars of laughter; what gave the both of them a taste of the excitement only auto-racing can procure.
It also gave them common purpose. Races they or one of them wanted to organize, and the other wanted to participate in. Racing series they wanted to perfect. Allowing the best in man and machinery to be brought forward. Each laudable and admirable quests in their own right.
With purpose comes the risk of disappointment. The disappointment of not succeeding entirely as anticipated. The disappointment of dreams turning out less perfect in reality.
Disappointment and passion always make for inflammable cocktails.
Racing has a habit to squeeze passion to such levels of density that, at times, it becomes unbearable for mere humans. Inflating the risk of conflict far beyond the average.
It’s sort of difficult for two participants to the Observer Single-handed Trans-Atlantic Race to end up hindering or annoying each other with all that water in between them, Plymouth and Newport. Abundance of space dilutes the risk of conflict to near non-existence. I have seldom witnessed two yachts wanting exactly the same square inch of water at exactly the same moment.
In auto-racing, things are slightly different. There is no other place on earth where more emotion, ambition and passion is so compressed than on a race track, during a race weekend. To top it off, handling all that speed requires a level of concentration that is simply unknown outside of racing.
It is that high-octane cocktail of dense fervor that procured both Jason White and Scott Urick with some of the best memories of their racing careers. It’s like a tunnel glowing with magic promise. Dragging one in, in search of that magical set-up that will hand a second per lap. Or that one mystical combination of rules and settings that will yield the perfect series. Or just one ruling brooding wisdom, appeasing all and everything.
Making one forget about other simple things such as going to the movies, reading a book, having a drink or dinner with friends. Just the things of daily live.
And then, one realizes that the pursued sublimity is ephemeral at best. And more often proves mere illusion. The whole thing explodes like mortar in one’s face. Driving a searing rod of disappointment deep into chests, ripping guts and bowels to shreds.
Every racer, every crew-chief, every race-organizer experiences it at least once. It’s not a question of if. It’s a question of when. And as that when arrives, the why’s and how’s are irrelevant. All one can do after the implosion, is get back to those other things: movies, books, dinner parties.
Scott is kind off the HSO-counterpart of Nascar’s Coo Coo Marlin. Like Coo Coo, Scott still has to win his first race. And just as Coo Coo was always available for photos and autographs in the pits after a race, so Scott is always in to share a joke or share his extensive knowledge of racing history. Or just give his view on a race incident or the behavior of car. All in his own, unparalleled witty manner. It did earn him a lot of respect around the racing community, as well as the sympathy of many fellow racers. What makes Scott truly irreplaceable though, is the way he wears his hart on his sleeve.
Jason, in Nascar-terms, would be more of a Bill France. A true-blood racer at hart, his passion for racing extends to way beyond the mere driving of racing cars. The enthusiasm with which he enlivened some of the live broadcasts was an integral part of the current Formula 1-season. But his vision and ambition reached beyond. He was at the cradle of HSO Americas together with Mike Becnel. Then when the first generation of admins needed a break, he did not hesitate a second to assume his share of the organization. Ensuring the continuance of high quality racing. It is something he deserves eternal gratitude for.
Just prior to the Road America-race, both released their cars. To read a book, or watch a movie, enjoy a good dinner. Even if both know that one day, they will be looking straight back into the magic tunnel. That also is a question of when rather than if.
Championship leader Sabre thus was the sole factory McLaren at Elkhart Lake. It did not stop him from adding another pole to his tally. His third this season, resulting in an impressive average of one pole out of two races.
The Brit shared the front row with Ferrari-man Plaçais, who also held second in the provisional championship standings. Grant Riddall started getting the hang of the Shadow and clocked third. Followed an armada of McLarens with David Jaques in 4th, Andres Adamovich in 5th, Raul Jereb 6th, and Jason Whited, Adam Hackman, Gabriel Sterr and David Jundt claiming 7th to 10th position.
The top 10 remained largely unchanged as the race went green. Whited spun on the grass and had to fight his way back up. Fast man at this stage was Jean Marie Plaçais, who had inherited White’s McLaren and was up from 19th to 8th before lap 1 was even over.
Steve Parker spun and rolled his Lola. The first retirement was a fact.
Starting lap 2, Sabre had already secured himself a respectable advance. Plaçais, giving all he had to keep in touch, overdid it into treacherous turn 3 and spun. He was down to 21st.
Kalide pitted his Lola and would be down a lap as he rejoined the fray.
Riddall, Jaques and Adamovich, respectively in 2nd, 3rd and 4th, seemed to avoid racing each other. Instead trying to culminate their speeds in a bid to reel in Sabre. Gabriel Sterr was putting some pressure on Jereb, but nothing alarming yet.
Further down, Bruno Chacon and brave young Alberto Iquino went off.
Voigt was doing reasonably well, running 17th, about 5 spots better than Philippe Henrique whom Zuffenhausen had entrusted with the better Porsche. I would make sure to make a note of that, before paying the next Porsche AG-invoice.
Two things were now dawning. One. David Sabre would not get his third victory that easy as Riddall, with Jaques in tow, were closing in rapidly. At the rate these two were reducing the gap, they would soon be on Sabre’s tail.
And secondly, ending up in the gravel traps was not a good idea at Road America. And certainly not in turn one or three. The handful of cars that had already gone off was indeed struggling to get out of the gravel. The cars seemed to dig in deep, gravely hampering their return to the track. All the while putting an important additional strain on the engine, multiplying the risk of engine failure.
As bag of bollocks Voigt was about to find out for himself. The pimp was running 16th, which was actually quiet respectable with the limited performance of our lesser Porsche. Whited, who was recovering from his spin on lap 1, came on to win one position back. The power of the massive Chevy block blasted the McLaren ahead of the Porsche on the main straight. There really was nothing Voigt could do to prevent it. Even on one of my worse days, I should be able to admit that.
But then Voigt decided that he would set the record books straight all by himself in turn 1. He caught onto the aspiration flowing from the gigantic Motschenbacher rear wing. And behold, actually pulled up to the McLaren.
Turn one approached. A bend that is kind of a swindler to the extent it looks like a fine opportunity for overtaking. But in reality really is all but that. The thing is, it looks like a mid slow ninety degree right-hander following a long straight. But it is actually a much faster bend, rounded at well above 100mph. The end of the preceding straight slanting down not improving the situation.
The speed in turn one really forces a car to use the entire wideness of the track. But here we had Voigt and Whited now on an approach side-by-side. So Whited was forced into choosing between ending in the gravel or moving ever so slightly to the inside line at the risk of bumping into Voigt.
The Virginian was most careful, and should Voigt have been able to stick to the very inside of the bend, it might have worked. P-daddy was carrying too much speed to make it stick however. He simply needed room that was not there. The cars made contact. Both ending in the gravel. It took ages to get out of it. We were back at the rear extremity of the field.
Riddall was now straight onto Sabre and started to have some peeps. He even had a very close one in turn 8, at the end of the Hurry Downs. The McLaren and the Shadow nearly touched. The pressure was on for Sabre.
Jaques was taking a relaxed approach in third. One never knew what would be thrown his way, if he just could be patient. Adamovich was already relegated to being just a distant observer. The power of his McLaren soon got the better of him, pushing him into a near spin out of Canada Corner.
Jean-Marie Plaçais also hit trouble somewhere and was down to 13th. His car now seemed to behave like a demon in a stoup.
Grant Riddall went wide a second time in the Bill Mitchell Bend. Jaques saw a first bone coming his way and did not twitch. The McLaren moved into second. The fourth placed McLaren driven by Adamovich was on the grass once more.
Yves Plaçais, recovering lost ground, spun again and fell back to 14th. A post-race communiqué from Maranello would state that there was a problem with the balance of the brakes. Resulting in the rear wheels locking up easily.
Voigt was back to 22nd after his off with Whited and had apparently found a steady rhythm.
Up front, things had civilized. Sabre, Jaques and Riddall now running similar paces but with respectful gaps in between them. Adamovich had fallen slightly back and could start worrying about Jundt and Sterr. The Swiss and German were up to respectively 5th and 6th and started closing in.
Gerard Ryon was up to 7th and Hackman up to 8th. Behind them, Bos and Mikula were dicing for 9th and 10th spot.
On the run to turn one, Mikula used Bos’ slipstream to pull the Lola alongside the McLaren. Mikula managed relatively well to stick to the inside line, but turn one is notoriously difficult to tackle side by side. There seemed to be light contact between the two cars.
On the run from turn one to turn three, Bos tried to reciprocate, but slightly touched the rear of the Lola. Without much harm done. Bos was still behind Mikula.
On the long straight to turn five, Bos benefitted from a stiff tow, courtesy of Mikula’s Lola. Juha positioned his car on the inside line through the Moraine Sweep. His intentions were clear: regain ninth in turn five. Mikula defended well however, even if his car went slightly sideways. Bos was forced onto the inside curb and up the hill towards turn six, it was still the German leading the Belgian.
The Lola then seemed to edge out a tad. Bos had a wild ride through the Carousel, with two left wheels on the grass, trying to keep up. Then decided the game was not worth the candle, and appeared to settle down in tenth.
Jereb had hit trouble somewhere, was down to 13th and was now making up lost ground.
Voigt, still in 22nd, was looking for a way past Henrique in the faster Porsche 917/10. He moved towards the inside line as they sped down the Kettle Bottoms, thinking of a possible pass into Canada Corner. But soon thought the better of it and tucked in behind Henrique.
The Brazilian went off on his own just one turn down the road in the Bill Mitchell Bend. Voigt was on his way back up.
Both Pascal Kalide and Jean-Marie Plaçais parked there cars at about the same time, allowing cuddly Voigt back into the top 20. A slight ray of hope fell on us. Even if, with a car that on the straights was about 15 full miles per hour slower than the McLaren powerhouses, it was only a feeble one.
Entering the 11th lap, and just over 1/5th of the race covered, Sabre was still pretty much in command of the race. Riddall was not far behind in the Shadow. Followed the four McLarens of Jaques, Adamovich, Jundt, again on road to a fabulous ascension through the ranks, and an ever improving Sterr. Gerard Ryon, Adam Hackman, Pascal Mikula and Juha Bos completed the top 10.
Numbers 2 and 4 in the provisional championship standings, Yves Plaçais and Jason Whited, had fallen far below points scoring positions. They were, at this stage at least, not enjoying good results championship-wise.
Things started heating up at the front. Sabre got somewhat stuck behind a to be lapped Whited out of the last turn. It broke his pace up the knoll towards the main straight. Riddall immediately prepared to capitalize. But Sabre used the power of the McLaren to his benefit and fended off Riddall’s attempt. The writing was on the pit-wall for the factory McLaren driver nevertheless.
Plaçais was back in the top 10 and thus back to earning points. He passed Gerard Ryon for 7th out of turn six. Behind them, Henrique had another spin, ruining the potential of the better Porsche.
Voigt had meanwhile caught up with young Alberto Iquino. After a difficult race in a Formula 1 BRM at Hockenheim, the brave rookie had joined Barrett Racing for Road America. J.P. was faster in the twisty bits but on the straights the yellow McLaren had lots of Chevy horses. Voigt managed to get ahead nevertheless.
Alberto was not leaving it at that however, and moved to the inside through the Moraine Sweep to brake very late into turn five. Too late, as he spun wildly into the gravel. Voigt had sufficient
agility to keep well on the outside and only turned into the turn after the McLaren speared by on the inside. Even if Voigt was running very mediocrely, he earned some merits for his awareness there.
A recovering Jereb was struggling with an unstable car. And with a Mikula who was defending his 10th position like a man determined to make a strong statement. Both of them were closing in on Bos and it looked like it might soon get animated between those three.
Mikula pulled passed Bos under braking for turn five. Bos’ retort was immediate. The Belgian looked like regaining his position in turn six. Then lost the rear of his McLaren exiting the turn. Both Mikula and Jereb sailed past, Raul rekindling his points gathering.
Jereb was now determined to also get past Mikula. On to the main straight, he balled the power of his Chevy and the tow provided by the Lola into one straight line of speed… And shot past Mikula. Mikula tried to fight back in turn one, but quickly realized it was to no avail.
Sabre now seemed to take some distance from Riddall, who in turn had a fair advantage over Jaques. Adamovich was even further back in a solitary fourth. At the front, the race appeared to be heading for calmer waters. For now at least.
The whole field actually seemed a succession of lonely racers, each running like islands in their own universe. Except for Chapman and Kowalski, who were arguing over 15th spot.
Voigt was running 19th, forgotten by all and everyone. I think even his own mother would be embarrassed.
Things were however about to take a turn for the worse for Sabre. With just under 20 laps ran, the Brit prepared to put a lap on Henrique. The McLaren miscalculated the braking point of the Porsche and, approaching turn three, suddenly found himself stuck behind the Zuffenhausen machine, with Riddall storming on to the scene. And that was just the beginning of it. Sabre slightly hit the rear of the Zuffenhausen machine. Enough to send him spinning of the track. Riddall stormed away in the lead.
By the time David got going again, both Jaques and Adamovich had also gotten ahead and the former leader was down to fourth.
As Sabre caught up with Henrique again, the Brazilian driver was now so worried to get in the way of the McLaren that he went wide in the Kink. Too wide. The Porsche went off and hit the wall, damaging the Porsche beyond repairs.
Kowalski wiggled his car into a spin out of turn three, leaving 15th wide open for Chapman’s BRM. The Polish driver retired with a broken suspension.
Mikula had a poor exit out of the last turn. Hackman did not blink an eye and pulled to the Lola’s side, passing Mikula for 10th into turn one.
Hackman’s turn to make a mistake then, with an even poorer exit out of turn three. Mikula was straight back into 10th.
At the front, the idea of calmer waters was long forgotten. It started with Drechsler spinning in turn five, ending up blocking the track. Riddall, who came charging out of the Moraine Sweep, could not avoid him and went off. Jaques was into the lead and Sabre, who had already caught Adamovich, also went past.
The fast Canadian enjoyed the lead for barely four turns and went off on the outside of the Carousel. His McLaren took some centuries to get out of the gravel. Sabre went by. Riddall went by. As did Jundt, who had somehow dispensed with Adamovich.
Then, as the McCaig Racing car finally made it back to track, it seemed damaged as Jaques could barely get a handle on it.
Sabre was back in the lead, with Riddall on his tail again. Jundt however replaced Jaques on the last podium spot.
Hackman was now harrowing Mikula to such an extent that the German spun in the last turn. His Lola got stuck sideways on the side of the track. Janik could not avoid him, and both cars were out. Hackman continued his ways.
Up front they had decided to no longer allow for one dull moment. Sabre went off and let Riddall into the lead again. The Shadow man then having a moment in the Kettle Bottoms, allowing Sabre to grab the lead in Canada Corner once again. All that switching allowed Jundt to now get up to the exhausts of the two leaders. Things looked very much like turning into a three way battle for the lead.
The lead however seemed haunted. As Sabre was just back in command, he went off in the last turn, digging the McLaren deep into the gravel. Riddall went by, Jundt said thank you and took second and Jaques claimed the last spot on the podium back.
It took David massive amounts of time to get the factory McLaren out of the gravel and when he finally did, he spun the car on the grass. Losing even more time.
Riddall was back in the lead but he was battling a badly injured Shadow. Jundt in his mirrors doing nothing to make his life easier.
Mikula made it to the booth and engaged in another whining-about-Janik-session. Stating that Janik T-boned him and ended his race by doing so. Conveniently forgetting that he had ended up stuck on the side of the track mainly by his own doing.
Riddall looked like having refound some balance in the Shadow and was now edging away from Jundt. The front of the pack hit calmer waters again.
Grant used the power of the massive 8-litre in the Shadow to speed off on Road America’s long straights. In the more twisty stuff between turn five and the Kink, Jundt however closed in. Underlining once more what a gifted driver DJ truly is.
Voigt was back to 14th. Mainly thanks to the bad luck of others, but we were obviously not intent on minding that.
As Sabre was reeling in Jaques, he had yet another spin in Canada. Adamovich brilliantly went through.
An impressive Jundt had gotten so close to Riddall that he could actually start having a peep. Which he did on the Hurry Downs. The Swiss is the undisputed master in dosing his efforts and knowing when to back off. So, for now, he left it at just showing himself in the Shadow’s mirrors. Riddall was still far from home.
Sabre had meanwhile encountered even more trouble and was now down to sixth. Running behind Sterr and just in front of Plaçais. Which had its importance for the championship. Suddenly it looked as if instead of increasing his lead over the Ferrari-driver, Sabre could loose ground to Plaçais.
Sabre was however easily passed Sterr again around the outside in turn one. Sterr then went off in Canada Corner, leaving Plaçais into 6th.
Jundt was unleashing the Bernese Mountain Dogs on Riddall, having looks in almost every corner.
Then, the unimaginable happened. Into Canada Corner, Jundt half spun. He stayed away from walls and gravel and was quick to continue. But Riddall had breathing room.
Further back, Plaçais, second in the championship standings, was all over Sabre, first in the standings. It thus was a battle with a true impact as it would decide on whether the gap between both of them would be narrowed or rather increased.
Sabre’s McLaren seemed a handful now and he went slightly wide in turn one. The bella donna from Maranello immediately took the upperhand.
Besides the Bernesers, Jundt was now also releasing the Weimaraners, Saint Bernards and every other dog in the book. He was closing in on Riddall but time was running out. Moreover, once he would catch up, he would still have to find a way around the Shadowy brat.
With less than 15 laps remaining, the gap was down to below 2 seconds. And DJ was getting into a rhythm. Riddall’s lead was getting under increasing pressure. Jaques followed in 3rd and Adamovich in 4th. Then came Plaçais in the Ferrari and Sabre in the works McLaren. Rounding out the top 10 were Sterr, Jereb, Ryon and Bos.
Jundt was extracting every last ounce from his McLaren now. At several occasions going wide onto the grass. Riddall was no longer immune to the pressure and had a spin. Jundt went through but Riddall recovered the lead immediately. Then Jundt had a look in the Carousel and edged ahead.
Grant had the inside on the run to the Kink. DJ wisely backed off a bit. It was back to the Shadow leading the McLaren. Both seemed to have switched to full berserk mode for the final stage of the race.
The entire surroundings around the Shadow’s rear filled with orange. Through the twisty section from Canada Corner to the last corner, Jundt was serving Riddall a very cold dish, forcing the Brit into a defensive line onto the main straight.
That allowed Jundt to benefit from a tow and have a real opportunity at a pass in turn one. He could not hold the McLaren through and spun. Riddall took to his heels at once. Jundt’s recovery of the car had a stroke of genius and the Swiss did not loose too much time. He might still make it to the top spot.
Voigt was now also up to a state of full alacrity. He had been running 14th for a long time and seemed destined to finish in that position. But then Christian Dauger went of in the left hander at the end of the Hurry Downs. The baby blue Lola got stuck in the gravel and it took Dauger ages to get back on track.
Marcelo had averted Voigt of the situation through some signs on a blackboard he held up as the Porsche flew past the pits. Voigt had immediately picked up the pace to reel in and pass Dauger. Which he succeeded in, getting the Porsche back to 13th.
Whited had meanwhile recovered many positions and still had a shot at top 10-finisch. But to get there, he first needed to dispense with Mick Chapman who defended his 11th spot like a cat would defend her kittens. It would take Whited the best part of 2 full laps to get past the BRM. Finally doing so through a better exit out of the Carousel on lap 40.
Up front, they were into full warfare. DJ made a successful pass through the inside in the last turn. Grant however used the power of the Shadow to regain the lead on the following straight. Jundt then had a half look in turn three. The way it was going now, they were swapping positions every turn.
There was even more action as Plaçais was hot on Adamovich for 4th. If the Frenchman succeeded in capturing 4th, and Sabre remained 6th, that would hand Ferrari the lead in the championship.
Third placed man David Jaques was now reeling in both leaders. It seemed he would run short of laps to have a real go at them. But he was nevertheless showing that he probably is the fastest all-round driver at the moment.
Voigt, who had 13th bagged, obviously decided to spice things up a bit and went of twice in as many bends. That allowed Dauger to close in and the French driver now had a real shot at passing Voigt. Our car seemed to have left the last spin somewhat crippled, and Dauger was massively faster. The dice were rolling again, and it looked like they were not going to favor us.
Jaques went wide in the Kink. Leaving the leaders with one less threat to worry about.
Plaçais was passed Adamovich, which seemed common logic, and was about to gain in the championship standings.
Jundt was back to full assault mode. Sniffing at the rear of the Shadow, touching it almost and looking at every opportunity that presented itself. And then some more.
On lap 48, Jundt actually was back in the lead for about 100 yards. But then went wide out of turn three and hit the wall. Grant eased out and there was Jaques back on Jundt’s tail.
On the very last lap, Plaçais still in 4th, and with the provisional championship lead secured, came up to lap Voigt along the Kettle Bottoms. Voigt had Dauger up his back now and was anxious as a rabbit hunted by a fox. Voigt seemed to have captured that losing 13th back to Dauger was not going to earn him a lot of sympathy in the team. And was now defending his skin like a snake on a bad acid-trip. He wanted but one thing: cross that damned finish line and end this thing.
Plaçais sailed past the Porsche freely on the run to Canada Corner; nothing to report there. But then, the ride got blurry. The Frenchman half spun his machine exiting Canada Corner. He lost all momentum and almost came to a full stop… in the middle of the track.
Exactly on the spot where Voigt was very much in a hurry to get under the Bill Mitchell-bridge and down to the last turn. Keeping that effing blue Lola behind. Voigt was on a line that did not allow much deviation. At least, any other driver would probably have managed to adapt his line, but that was obviously beyond shithead Patrich Voigt.
He progressed straight towards the Ferrari. With that bleeding eyesore of a flashing blue Lola growing bigger and bigger in his mirrors. There were voices in Voigt’s head. Screaming: get out of here, hurry, hurry!
So the flipnik, naturally almost, bumped the Ferrari’s rear, as if he was going to push it up the hillock with him. So that they could both escape from the evil indigo monster in the mirror. Off course, Voigt did not push the Ferrari up the hill, but just into a spin. Plaçais lost 4th to lucky dog Adamovich and, even worse, 5th to Sabre. And with that the lead in the provisional championship standings.
Voigt held on to his meager 13th, but at what cost?
Someone averted me that Enzo Ferrari was heading to our pit with great strides of disgruntlement. Now, the Maranello don was right to be angry. There was no excuse on earth for Voigt’s stupidity. But that would not stop me from standing my ground. I straightened my shoulders, stretched my torso. Slightly spread my legs and assumed the position. The one and only position that had always made it clear, everywhere and anywhere: do not mess with me.
Il Commendatore was now sufficiently close to launch scorn from his eyes at us. And scornful looks, there were plenty. But Ferrari is a wise man, wise enough to grasp where his own well-being comes at risk. So at about 20 yards from our box, he turned his heels and opted for safety.
Riddall had by then long taken his first victory in the CanAm series. A first for Shadow also. A magnificent Jundt followed him home in second. Jaques took third. Adamovich and Sabre inherited 4th and 5th, while Plaçais salvaged 6th. A strong race handed Gabriel Sterr a fantastic 7th spot. Jereb, Ryon and Whited, who had managed to get past Bos, rounded out the top 10.
Championship wise, Sabre, instead of losing the lead to Plaçais, ended up increasing his lead. The Brit now enjoys a 5 points margin over Plaçais. Jaques is reeling them in, but is still 20 points behind Plaçais. Jundt holds 4th, only 2 points down. Adamovich and Whited are 5th and 6th.
The McLaren stranglehold on the standings is concretizing now. Out of the ten first drivers, seven are McLaren drivers. Only Plaçais holds the key to disturb the McLaren party with his Ferrari.
Donnybrooke might be decisive for Maranello.