Funny story from Formula 1: why F1 drivers cant drive rally cars.
Let me set the scene for those that might not know the characters off quickly.
The year is 1995 and it is a test day at Fiorano's test circuit for the upcoming F1 season. The drivers are Gerhard Berger (narrating the story) and Jean Alesi. In his third year as Ferrari team principle, is Jean Todt who had just received a brand new Lancia Delta as a gift from Fiat.
Gerhard Berger was a prankster his whole career. Some of his most famous came with Ayrton Senna. "in an Australian hotel room Berger filled Senna's bed with animals. Senna understandably infuriated, confronted Berger by saying;
"I've spent the last hour catching 12 frogs in my room," to which Berger replied, "Did you find the snake?"
So anyway, here's my favorite story from the era from Gerhard Berger's book.
Jean Alesi and I were strolling to the parked cars to find a car with which we could drive the 1000 meters from the company area to the Fiorano test track. There were only Lancias and Fiats and one of the Lancias obviously was prepared for us with the key in the ignition.
A few cars further I saw an outstandingly beautiful Lancia Integrale and it was that car which somehow pleased us the most from all those cars, and the key was in the ignition too. So we took that one.
"Who will drive?"
Alesi sacrificed himself and I had the feeling that he could begin the year with great ambitions. Maybe he would let shine his worldchampionly skills already on the drive to Fiorano. Anyway, I put my seat on the last notch because of the power of stretched legs and put on the harness.
We didn't win a lot of races shortly before but we are pretty good when we are driving together, for instance: Alesi on the throttle, Berger at the handbrake.
Jean scorched like a mad man out of the main gate and he built up enough speed to take the first right hand corner in a drift while I supported him with the handbrake. He was completely full on the throttle and even the fully applied handbrake didn't really hinder the Lancia in making progress. I released the handbrake a bit, he stayed with the full hammer on the gas, the gate of Fiorano was open and we again managed a super drift which went absolutely perfect thanks to the handbrake. The Integrale drifted elegantissimo over all four wheels.
Suddenly one single front wheel got grip and initiated the loveliest motion a car is able to exercise: sideways over the front wheel.
We realized it when we both were sitting in the air, Jean still more than me because he didn't strap himself. The car turned head-over and sideways in a single motion, we couldn't do anything but squeaking and laughing like idiots. Then the car vehemently landed on the roof, slided along at full speed and slammed into the wall. It made a big bang. Alesi was completely twisted and had his knees outside the window, the roof was completely flat and our noses were tucked between the seats, 10 centimeters nose to nose. There was smoke and dripping oil everywhere and I panicked that the car could start burning in a few moments. We didn't have the chance to free ourselves, our heads were tucked in the pitch-dark space between the flat roof and the handbrake.
At least we had been nearly at the finish. Practically we had fallen at the feet of the mechanics who were occupied with warming up our Formula 1 cars. They pulled us out at our hands and feet through the windows that had gotten a lot smaller. The car was smoking and steaming.
The show still became better when the ambulance car rushed to us. Since 25 years there is an ambulance car with two doctors at the track during every test and since 25 years they have nothing to do because it is very rare that someone goes off and the run-off areas in Fiorano are sufficient. Of course those guys were more than happy they finally could do something sensible and ran to recover us and to stick us into the ambulance car.
I immediately said I'm okay because I only had bruised my back but with Jean they saw the chance for a big operation because he had some blood on his head and on his legs and he had some broken bits of glass in his knee.
But Alesi said "I'm hitting the road, going home" and if I could go the complete race distance?
"Of course, Jean, no problem. I'll put the helmet on immediately and won't take it off until all is done here."
The mechanics put the flat Integrale back on its wheels, swept all the glass, the oil and cooling liquids away, then they pushed the wreck aside and covered it.
Alesi had gone in the meantime, I unwinded my laps in the Formula 1. When I came to the pits for the first time to make a few adjustments Montezemolo and Jean Todt came round the corner.
Oh dear!
I didn't know if someone had informed them already.
The mechanics were pottering around, Todt stood beside me. I coyly asked him:
"Did you hear it already?"
"What did I hear?"
"So you didn't hear anything?"
You have to know that the grammar was neglected a bit when a Frenchman and a Tyrolean were talking in english.
"No, what you mean?"
"So you didn't hear that the car falls over?"
"What do you mean: The car falls over?"
I said: "Yeah, the car falls over" and Jean looked intensely at the Formula 1 car where the mechanics were still adjusting something.
Jean Todt: "Come on, tell me, what do you mean: The car falls over?"
I told him that Jean and I drove here with a Lancia - "and the car suddenly gets grip and rolls."
"What do you mean: The car rolls?"
"Well, Jean and myself, we come here, maybe a bit quick, the car suddenly gets grip, and it falls over."
Jean Todt said: "Okay, Gerhard, I understand the car gets grip, but what means: falls over?"
"It lands on the roof."
Jean looked all over me.
"Did you hurt yourself?"
"No."
"And Jean?"
"Not really."
"What means not really?"
"He just had some glass in the hand and went home, because he didn't feel good."
Now, finally he figured out the whole story and went mad because he had two complete idiots of drivers who nearly managed to eliminate themselves in a double pack from the first race of the season in two weeks. He ranted and raved at me and gave me a harangue. He would have thought we were more intelligent and all the stuff a father might tell his son. I looked down as contrite as I could.
Suddenly he asked:
"And where is the car?"
I pointed round the corner, he went there and saw the cover for a flat lump of metal. He lifted the cover and got a really regrettable access of rage.
So I figured it was Jean Todt's very own car. Of course I was terribly sorry but before I could explain this to him I quickly had to put on my helmet and drive the rest of the race distance.
Then all people were fearing the journalists could hear about the story and beat the shit out of Ferrari but it was one those very rare cases where everyone in the house of Ferrari kept his tongue.
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Originally Posted by nreggie454
