My First F1 Race: Detroit Grand Prix 1982
Maybe I’m feeling a little nostalgic in the approaching Holiday season. I was about 7 or 8 years old and sitting at the south side of Hart Plaza with my fingers in my ears. If only I’d understood. It wasn’t until years later that punk rock taught me that loud = good. For engines too.
After the race weekend, my dad was able to grab one of those Renault Elf banners you see lining the track. It hung for a couple of years from my ceiling, eventually tearing. It’s near the top of my list of things I wish I’d kept from childhood.