Gilles Villeneuve Manhandling Monaco

Gilles Villeneuve Manhandling Monaco (Wikimedia Common photo)

On his return to Europe in 1978, following his several spectacular accidents in previous races, there were journalistic vultures circling over Villeneuve's head. "Crazy Overtaker" was a milder term among several that alluded to his propensity for leaving the ground. Other descriptive flights of fancy included "Air Canada" and "The Pilot," and there were jokes that he would soon become a friend of Lauda's (an avid aviator and the proprietor of his own airline, Lauda Air) because they were both keen on flying. Even some of the Ferrari mechanics nicknamed Gilles 'Flyer' because 'he spends more time flying than he spends on the track.'

But, while Antonio Tomaini and his Ferrari work force grumbled about having to labour longer repairing his cars, they appreciated the interest Gilles took in what they did. This was no prima donna who treated his mechanics as servants and showed up at the last minute to drive. Gilles spent hours with his crew, as if he were just one of the boys, and actually enjoyed getting his hands dirty. Then, when the last nut was tightened, he would hop in the car and proceed to use it for its intended purpose to a degree the Ferrari men had rarely seen. Such was the case during qualifying at Monaco where the Ferrari pit watched, with awe and apprehension in equal measures, as Gilles went to work.

The Ferrari T3 came hurtling around the corner like some unguided missile, defying gravity and several other laws of physics. At nearly a right angle to the road and a few centimeters from the

steel barriers, with the fat rear Michelins sending up puffs of blue smoke and Mauro Forghieri's 312B motor screaming just a few revs this side of disintegration, Gilles seemed completely out of

control. Barely protruding above the tiny plexiglass windscreen of the number 12 red-and-white winged projectile, Gilles's helmet was cocked in a defiant attitude, his white-gloved hands whirling in a flurry of activity, making vigorous corrections on the saucer-sized steering wheel as he struggled to avoid the surely inevitable accident.

Somehow, at the last possible instant, milliseconds before the T3 caromed into the rails or spun around madly to bite its tail, Gilles gathered it all together and caught the spectacular powerslide. Winding off the opposite lock to straighten out the front wheels in the approximate direction of the St. Devote hairpin, he smashed the gearlever into third, fourth, fifth, as quickly as the words can be said and catapulted spectacularly sideways down the pit straight in a roar of noise that shook the very foundations of the Principality of Monaco.

And the Ferrari pit became animated again, its collective breath was released in a sigh of relief, heads were shaken in disbelief and words of wonderment issued forth. Gilles had managed yet

another lap without crashing, but how long could he possibly keep it up?

Had they been watching his amazing progress up at the exit of Casino Square, Forghieri, Tomaini and company would have despaired of ever again seeing their precious car in one piece.

Gilles' arrival was heralded by the high-pitched howl of twelve cylinders being stretched to their limits and punctuated by squeals of protest from four tortured radial tires, the crescendo of noise reverberating off the walls of the Casino and the Hotel de Paris. His right foot flat to the floor, his helmet inclined to the right in the direction of the turn, his hands sawing away at the wheel, Gilles would careen over the brow of the hill, as usual, on full opposite lock. The front of his car pointed into the doorway of the headquarters of the Monegasque constabulary on the right while the rear threatened to make a forcible entry into the cafe on the left.

At the exit of the corner a few brave photographers and journalists cowered behind the rails in front of the news kiosk on the left curb to witness the phenomenon, but their pictures tended to be blurred and their notes indecipherable because they invariably ducked down at the last minute, unable to believe Gilles was not about to plunge into their midst. And, every few laps, even the hardnosed marshals abandoned their positions and ran for cover when the Ferrari's left rear wheel kissed the barriers and sent up a shower of sparks before roaring off down the hill at unabated speed to attack the next corner at Mirabeau.

- excerpt from the life of Gilles Villeneuve

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Gilles-Villeneuve-Legendary-Racing-Driver/dp/0753507471