The pure fact that my beloved racing hero Gilles Villeneuve died I have learned from my classmate Rebi Józsi who tore up the door of the 3rd stock dormitory's room in the eve of 8 May 1982 and shouted towards me what heard in the news:

- Villeneuve died!

Then I asked Szaniszló to give a piece of that black velvet ribbon what some on the guy wore as a fancy tie – not me. I needed only 5 centimetre of it to make a nice ribbon of what I wore on my napkin till the end of the school year. I draw with black ink a beautifull Villeneuve-image and gazed on it during the study hours in the afternoons, philosophing about the fate why all this happened – with me! I also did a farewell poem of which the last two lines read: Where are you Gilles? Do you hear me?

Slowly I reached a certain point which cemented in my dreams: since I was destined not to meet Gilles in my life, I must do two pilgrimages. To go to his grave in Berthierville and also to Zolder where he lost his life. Needless to say what sort of chanches I had for all this at the age of 17 in an era when Leonid Brezhnev was still in power – but what are the dreams for if not this? And if you dream soooo hard everything could succeed!

1.

It wasn't a fast issue at all: I waited exactly 25 years until it was so far. But then, on 11 June 2007 the day after Lewis Hamilton scored his maiden Grand Prix victory on the same track where Gilles did in October 1978, I went on. I got in my rented Ford and started to drive out of Montreal towards East on the road 138 which named Chemin du Royal. Of course, I thought Gilles Villeneuve a royal man, the royal of the speed, wasn't he?

The first big green boards along the highway indicating Berthierville. Then a smaller brawn one: Museé Gilles Villeneuve.

Heartbeating and fastening pulse, I take a bend to the right and here I am.

Where, actually?

Well, in a tipical Canadian small town the kind one find ten thousands on this continent: with the compulsary McDonald's, Day's Inn and a hell of filling stations and wooden houses.I was rolling on the Gilles Villeneuve Avenue and looked at the trees and garbadge cans as those who once happened to see Gilles... Then, not too far from the city shield I found the museum. Well, not a building of a national pride, but who cares: it is the Museé Gilles Villeneuve. Like a holy place.

The president of the museum, Michel Flageola was packing out after helding a small exhibition in Montreal during the Grand Prix weekend, now the reliques went back to their places. Having this duty he asked his vice, Gaétan Savignac to give me a tour in Berthierville. Gaéten an elderly gentleman hardly speaks English and me nothing in French – still, the CASE Gilles Villeneuve gives us an easy understanding.

As introducing himself he takes a photo out of his vallet showing his young self in the company of the Villeneuve-family good 30 year earlier. Our first stop would be the Villeneneuve monument. We drive along the Avenue Gilles Villeneuve where one can find the mall, the church, the school, in the next street is the town hall.  The statue itself, located in the Parc Gilles Villeneuve was erected in 1984, may not be on the artistic quality of Rodin,  but never mind. Gilles is in his overall and holding his helmet is his hands. Behind him the local and Quebecian flags and also the silent river of St. Lawrence. An idillic place with banks only the 33 Celsius hurts a bit.

Then comes the cemetery. Kind of strange that there is now sign where the beloved son on Berthierville rests – even Gaétan has a little problem finding the black stone. He cleans up all the mess around the grave meanwhile I take out the small black ribbon from my pocket: I managed to keep it through all the years full of my moves and changing places of living. I cut it in two and one half of it I plant in the soil right next to the black granite. Old Gaéten is just nodding as he perfectly knows what is happening. Villeneuve and I finelly met. Standing under the heating sun I thing of fate and dreams which sometimes can be fulfilled.

 Then he asks, Do you want to see the house of Villeneuves? I barely have to answer. We get back into the car and drive through some very quiet summerly streets. And there it is: well, actually nothing, an avarage white wooden house, garage, some gardening instruments around. But then I go to the post box and as I pull my finger of it there is a pale name on it – Seville Villeneuve... The father so no doubt which family used to lived here once. And suddenly I see a little kid running around on bike, the 7 year-old Gilles fifty years ago. An unknown house what I won't forget ever.

The museum itself is the top of all. One relique after the another. The vague telex from FIA giving the permission for Scuderia Ferrari to enter Villeneuve instead of Lauda at the Canadian and Japanese Grand Prix in 1977. The rather ugly brawn overall what he wore in  1977. His racing licence. The nose cover of his Ferrari what he lost during the rain sokad 1981 Canadian Grand Prix en route to 3rd place. The silver plate from Imola in 1982 from his last race which he should have won...

There is no sense to call a full inventory because all these would be bare words. How much time did I spend there? Hell knows. I watched the video of his life twice despite being in French. Exiting to the lobby the lady in the cassa makes a big smile and making even bigger effort asks me in English, – Was it okay?

Oh my, what else could I answer her than,

– Yes, it was okay.

2.

Then three years passed. On 18th January 2010 Gilles would have turned 60. When I plan my autumn trip to Essen, Germany, I recignize that a mere 100 kilomters away there is a Beglian town, called Zolder. No hesitation to decide: I must go there.

And like in the case of Berthiervielle, on a Monday after a Grand Prix, again on the 11th of the actual month I get under way. All the omens are perfect: in Liége, Belgium I get the room number 27 in the Silver Swan Hotel; then I have to leave the autobahn at exit 27 coming to Zolder. Could not be better...

Also Zolder is very much like Berthierville, a small and sleepy place. As I drive towards the circuit the trees' golden leaves glare in the sunshine and I can not stop to think again that once these trees saw Gilles.

Walter Goossens the marketing manager of the circuit wellcomes me and soon we recognize that we are the same vintage, 1965, we both were 17 when Villeneuve died. Walter has been working here since 1993 and knows a lot abuot the Villeneuve-mythos in Zolder. The cult was not always as evident as today, he recalls, since the former managment wasn't keen on puting Zolder's name in a 'negative environment'.

 – At the end of 1990s the situation slowly changed. The new managment relaized that one can not ignore the past completely. Villeneuve's death is the part of the circuit's history albeit the black pages. Although, sadly it happened here, it had a big impact and also we must be aware of it. We do not gaze back to 1982 every day but facts remain facts.

The old monument which was erected in 1984 in the pits was pull down when the whole pit complex was renewed in 1994. The pieces of it with Gilles' replica helmet went to a collector in Charlesrois. Since the regulation changed a lot in the last 15 years there was no possibility to reinstall any kind of monument in the pits area; it was decided that the new monument would be outside of the pits which made possible for everybody to visit it.

Sculpturor Stefan Bongaerts' artwork is to be seen there today. There are five white poles and on them one can find all the symbols of Gilles' carreer: his helmet, the Ferrari 126C2 with the famous number 27, a Ferrari shield, Gilles' signature and the Canadian marple leaves.

– I did not have any connection to him, Bongaerts says, I did not know him. I was asked by Zolder's management to do this work which wasn' easy at all. I read a lot about Gilles I wanted to know everything about his legendary days. I got inspired by the helmet, his handwriting, his bolide and the leaves that are know for Canada. The concept was to create an sculpture that would show the viewer a complete image of the passion of Gilles Villeneuve.

Walter Goossens further remarks on it: – We do not collect reliques of Villeneuve, we never searched after the accident and we do not have anything left from 1982. But we try to build up a Zolder Archive with items which deal with history of the circuit. We plan to have our own museum for 2013 when Zolder will be 50 years old. Of course, Gilles Villeneuve will have a special place in it, may be even earlier, in 2012 when we shall have the 30th anniversary of his death.

Another key person in Zolder is Tony Eychmans, today chief of the safety; in 1982 he stood at the marshal post next to the Villeneuve accident.

– When did you recognise that an accident was happening?

– We saw a car tolling and flying something in the air without recognizing this was a driver.

– What happened when Gilles was on the ground and also the car came to halt?

– We saw a lot of marshals running to the palces of the and other spots to collect things. There was immediately a red flag and as observer on the marshals' post i have send all my marshals to the accident and I went there as well. We started immediately covering of the body and keeping people away.

– How did the fellow drivers behave?

– That we didn't notice.

– Did you notice Didier Pironi beind there and collecting Gilles' helmet?

– No, because we were occupied with other things.

– And the crowd?

- They came from everywhere to find out what the reason of the red flag could be. They were trying to climb over the fences and we were keeping them of the tack and behind the fences. They were asking if the driver was injured or died but we didn't answer those questions.

– What your feelings today of the accident?

– With a litle bit of imagination i still see the film of the accident and I can me remember the face of Gilles. Last year I was the judge of a TV program - the Sixth sence - and one of those was telling me a lot of things about that what she thought that happened many years ago and that made me tears coming on my eyes and I was a few minutes not longer able te say anything.

Back to Walter for a last chat. He tells me that at the 20th anniversary of Gilles' death the Ferrari Club Genk put a black granite plate in the corner where Gilles hit the ground – actually approximetly 20 mters away because of FIA regulation. They tried to contact Jacques Villeneuve on this occasion but not even a turning down e-mail came from him...

 Although, there are many who still do come here.

– Of course, it is not like Fatima or Lourdes but we have lot of visitors. The nearby city Limburg operates a bus during the summer months which comes out here on Thuesdays and the visitors can go out on the track to see the memorial plate. Also many people drop in driving along here via Cologne or Bruxelles seeing the shild Zolder. When we have activity we can not let them in.

 Fortunately this is not the case on this Monday.

We shake hands with Walter.

- The track is yours, he says in the end.

I feel chilly immediately.

I drive along the pits. I am so anxious that I miss the place in my first lap. Come on, once more. And then I have the imagination as I know from the tv and the youtube-videos: I see the Ferrari coming down the little hill after the straight behind the pits (well, I know already where is exactly). Then it hits the back of Jochen Mass' March and disappears from the the screen; and it comes back after two second completely deteriorating and almost falling on the March. Only in slow motion can you recignose a white something parting from the wreck and landing at the other side of the asphalt in the second row of catch fancing.

The chicane is redesigned and run off areas are much bigger, some trees surely were cut out. But I can recognise the spot withouth any doubt. There is awesome silence and standing on the shiny asphalt I know that something in my will turning very round.

At the the memorial plat the frightening recognition: I can not find the other half the black ribbon. Madly seeking in the car, everywhere but it is nowhere. First I feel almost sick but suddenly I have the idea: perhaps it should have happened this way. The only thing what counts, that I managed to be here.

I walk back to the track. I look up to the corner and like a fata morgana I can see the red Ferrari number 27. It comes towards me with extreme speed. I can se all the happenings. I standing there, exactly on the spot where once the smoky remnants of  the 126C2 came to halt.  Nobody is there. Just unending silence. My watch shows 13.51.

 Time has come.