As Hungary was the 'Happiest Barack' among the countries behind the Iron Curtain, we were allowed to travel to the West - in every three years. My father (a pediatrician) decided to send me to an English summer course to England in 1982 - he seriously believed that one day the the Socialism will collapse and then the next generation will need to speak English...
As we lived near to the Austrian bourder we could watch the ORF, the Austrian TV, where - because of the successes of Niki Lauda and the Austrian Grand Prix - Formula 1 was very popular and I also was captured by Niki's accident in 1976, his return in Monza and so on. After Niki's first retirement my new hero became his successor at Ferrari, Gilles Villeneuve.
It came the fatefull season of 1982. Already in January or in February my father booked my trip to Britain - it was az international school in Broadstairs, close to Canterbury on the seaside. As I saw the date of my being there and compared it with the Grand Prix calendar, it turned out the the weekend in the middle of my stay would be the British GP in Brands Hatch.
I definetely knew where should I be on that Sunday.
Of course, on 8th May came the shocking tragedy in Zolder: Gilles was killed in the accident colliding with Mass' March - like many other fans I was devastated, too.
Still, the prospects of visiting my first ever Formula 1 race left me in enthusiastic mood.
After Gilles' death it was Didier Pironi who became more and more a contender for the title. He collected a few nice podium finishes, what's more, in Zandoort in the frame of the Dutch Grand Prix he won the race in fine style. In this event Ferrari had a new driver in the car No. 27. - it was Patrick Tambay who happened to be one of the closest friends of Gilles'. Tambay had a modest debut finishing 8th and with it - that time - outside of the points.
When the chequered flag fell in Zandvoort, in front of our TV in Hungary I knew that I would be present on the next event - it was just like a dream.
But it came true.
The rest of the group on this weekend went to an excursion to Oxford; may be, that I would never see the famous place, I thought, but nothing could tear me away from my original plans - going to Brands Hatch.
I went to London where I did not have an accomodation, neither money for it, since the pounds I had I needed for the ticket.
So I spent the night walking around London and then deadly tyred I dropped in to the Victoria Station. It was the summer of the Falkland War and also of the railway strikes. No trains - but I knew the bust would start from the the station to Brands. And so it was: I got on the first double decker which started at 8 a.m. I had a sleep aboard and after queing for a while in the jam, at around 11. a.m. I was there! The ticket was 10 ponds but I also bought a programm - all the money I had left was for my ticket back to London and then to Broadstairs.
What can I say of this day?
For me it is - more than 30 years later - still a miracle. I walked around the pedestrian area, visited the merchandise tents, I saw Keke Rosberg's replica Williams; Royal Air Force jets made their parade - everything was like in a dream.
The race itself was also a kind of gift from the 'guys': there was a collision at the start (I couldn't see it exactly from my place), then Nelson Piquet lead untill the 9 or 10 lap, and after his retirement because of turbo failure it was Lauda who inherited the first place. Derek Warwick made the big show climbing up to 2nd in his Toleman-Hart turbo but later on he also had to withdraw with mechanical failure. So behind Niki the two Ferraris of Pironi and Tambay made the podium and a perfect day for me.
Later on I also had the chance to go to Zeltweg, Austria in 1985 and one year later, quite miracously again, Hungary had its own Grand Prix, I did not need to travel anymore.
But that July day in 1982 remains me for ever a kind of Paradise.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EWF_VEtDnKo
