Los Hermanos Rodríguez


Man.

Looking at these photos of the young Rodríguez brothers reminds me that I should stop bitching about how sterile and safe racing has become. Ricardo died at 20, Pedro at 31.

Just ridiculously young.

It’s strange to me that when I look at these photos, I don’t feel the same way I did about a similar juxtaposition of photos from de Portago’s career. Looking at the de Portago photos, I felt a certain, well not joy exactly, but they felt right. Young de Portago playing racing driver in a kiddie car somehow proved that he died doing what he loved.

These photos, however, give me a different feeling, even though the comparison is almost exactly the same. The photo of the young Rodríguez brothers in racing helmets might give me the same feeling, but I can’t help but think of what Pedro must have felt like getting back into a racing car after Ricardo’s death. How difficult it must have been to climb back into the racing car, but not being able not to. The idea of racing as a passion appeals to me, but in this light it’s more racing as obsession—as addiction—and while I can understand that, it makes these photos feel more heartbreaking.

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