sackrebleu's world

ivegotmytowel:

Happy Birthday, François.

You’d be 68 today, how crazy is that?

I can picture you so clearly; your hair still wavy and messy, but now a dark grey. Deep lines around your mouth from all those years of throwing around wide, cheeky grins. Your eyes… your eyes are just as bright. Forever the most intense I’ve ever seen.

You died 16 years before I was born and I never got to see you race. A simple but unchangeable fact that will forever eat away at me. Yet, I think about you almost every day. That probably sounds ridiculous. After all, who am I to miss you with such intensity? Jaqueline, JP, Jackie and Helen; they’re the ones who have to live without you. Live without hearing your voice or seeing your face.

But, I do. And it hurts. It hurts so much. More than I could ever eloquently or coherently put into words.

Thankfully, I’ve never experienced the death of anyone close to me. But you not being here - not having achieved that World Championship we all know you were capable of, not having married and had children, not having grown - it breaks my heart. Sometimes the realisation hits me with such force, that I’m left breathless with grief. I don’t know how I would have been able to cope if I had been around to see it all unfold in front of my eyes.


Want to know a secret? Part of me, as silly as it sounds, always assumes - hopes, wishes, dreams - you’re going to be there at race weekends. With Jackie, of course. An arm slung around his shoulders and your heads bent closely together; showing all these new boys that there is so much more to Formula One than just beating everyone else. That there’s so much more to gain.

You should be there.


For such vibrancy to be so easy snuffed out is almost impossible for me to comprehend. Maybe that’s why I always expect to see you.

It at least brings me some comfort to know you had long ago accepted the risks, that you didn’t fear that very real possibility of being next. Knowing that you had no regrets eases the pain, if only by a fraction. And at least, because of that very acceptance, we got to witness you drive your Tyrrell without restraint. Sliding it around each and every track that stretched out ahead with the finely tuned precision you learnt from Jackie. To me, there’s scarcely anything more beautiful than seeing your striped helmet whizz by in a blue blur.

Because, for me, you embodied what the perfect racing driver should be. Aggressive but respectful on track, charming and approachable off. No one had a bad word to say about you, and what a wonderful legacy that is. Adored by all of your colleagues. You shone. Your talent and passion only ever being surpassed by your love and loyalty.

There’s a reason why I keep a little model of your 006 on my dresser. It’s to remind me - every morning when I get up and look in the mirror - to be true to myself. Be honest, be open, be a friend to someone. And do what makes you happy. Make your passion your business. I’ve never been the most overtly confident person, despite my bluster, and have always suffered with depression. But you have been slowly helping me become the person I always wanted to be. I thank you for that.

To call you my idol or my hero doesn’t seem fitting. After all, I never went into racing myself. I’ve never even considered the possibility. But frankly, no one else even comes close. No one’s mere being has ever inspired so much within me. So much pure emotion. Just thinking of your deep voice, gorgeous smile and easy warmth is always something that instantly cheers me up.

I miss you.

But today, i’ll toast your memory. Because 68 years ago, the world became a little more glamorous.

And a little more exciting.

If only for a brief flicker.


François Cevert; disparus mais pas oubliés.

I really need to reblog this because it’s so beautifully written and you all need to read this even though it is a bit long. I have to say that even despite that fact I enjoyed every word of it and I found my thoughts in quite some (maybe not all) parts of it. Thanks to ivegotmytowel for writting beautiful thing and also thanks to Francois for being (or whatever is a past tense of this word) him.

tagged: f1, francois cevert, tribute