The end.

part I.

The first shock came when Rubens Barrichello crashed during the opening qualifying session at Imola. He lost control of his Jordan coming trough the last chicane, probably at around 140 mph, and didn't have time to correct the car. He shot over a curb, which launched him into the air and then sent the Jordan barrel- rolling along the tire barrier. What shook us most was the rate at which the car took off; at one stage it looked as if it was going to smash trough the fence and fly into the grandstand. The Jordan, more by luck than anything else, finished on its side, upside down and against the barrier. That was bad enough but the marshals promptly tipped the car over and, as it crashed on to its bottom, yon could see Barrichello's head thrashing around in the cockpit. I was astonished that the marshals should have done that, particularly in view of the neck and spinal injuries received by J.J. Lehto and Jean Alesi during test sessions earlier in the year. After an accident like that, Barrichello could have sustained similar injuries. He should have been left as he was or, if there was a risk of fire, then at least the car should have been put down gently. The next day, Rubens was walking around the paddock with nothing more than a cut lip and a broken nose. He was talking about making a comeback at the next race. The incident, despite its worrying implications, was gradually forgotten as Grand Prix racing got back down to business. In our case, that meant continuing our efforts to improve the Williams FWl6. Despite having tested at Nogaro in the southwest of France during the days leading up to Imola, we were still concerned about FWl6. There had been a certain amount of educated guesswork and, while everyone tried to be optimistic, Ayrton and I were skeptical; we couldn’t honestly say that the car was going to be any better than it had been. The problem was, in essence, two-fold. First, the car was not consistently quicker than the Benetton and, second, it felt horrible to drive. It is arguable as to which of the two problems made Ayrton and myself more unhappy, but it was most probably the former. We were always changing the set-up of the car in an attempt to find that perfect combination which would turn the promise of a great car into a reality. What we wanted from the FWl6 was a feeling of balance and drive-ability. These are the conditions that enable a driver to enjoy the experience of driving and, consequently, go faster. It is difficult to become familiar with a car if it is constantly being changed in an attempt to get good performance - it becomes a vicious circle. Ayrton, however, had enormous reserves of ability and could overcome deficiencies in a chassis. Also, it is more common to have a car that is difficult than one which is perfect. So, in some ways, things were as they should have been at Imola. It was a pleasant surprise to find on the first day of practice that things had improved slightly. I was looking forward to really making some progress with the car even though I had one or two nerve-racking moments when I had to take to the grass because of a difficulty with the brakes. Patrick Head pointed out that, if there was a way of doing things wrong, then I appeared to be doing it! I was suitably chastened by his dressing down although I felt better at the end of the day when it was discovered that there had indeed been a problem with my car. I had gone off at the final corner and damaged the suspension. By the time repairs had been carried out, there were just ten minutes of the first qualifying session remaining and I only managed seventh place on the provisional grid. Even so, I still felt good about the Williams although I can't honestly say that Ayrton shared my optimism; he was not convinced we were going in the right direction. In other words, he didn't like certain aspects of the car's behavior. But then he was a perfectionist. A lot of thought was put into the set-up and, on Saturday, the car really was much better. On my first quick laps during qualifying, I managed to pull myself up to fourth place. It had been a decent run and I was on my way in when I came across warning flags at the end of the 200 mph straight. I got to Tosa corner, only to be confronted by the remains of Roland Ratzenberger's Simtek. I could see where the debris had started and, judging by the distance traveled, it was obvious that this had been a very big accident. As I went by, I had a strong sense of foreboding about his condition because there was so much destruction. With Barrichello we had been lucky. This time it was very clear that poor Roland was not going to be let off so lightly. And, unbeknown to everyone, this was to be the start of a terrible sequence of events which would demonstrate in no uncertain terms the inherent dangers of the sport. Practice was stopped. Ayrton went down to the site of the accident because he wanted to see for himself what had happened. He had done it before when Martin Donnelly crashed at Jerez in 1990 and I believe it is every driver's right to do that sort of thing if they wish. Personally, I would rather not. I had been present at Goodwood during a Formula Three test session in February 1986 when Bertrand Fabi was killed and I had no wish to see anything like that again. Anyway, Ayrton chose to go to Tosa. Everyone was terribly concerned for Roland; the feeling was that he was in a bad way. When Ayrton returned, he spoke to Patrick and me in private at the side of the motorhome. He said quite simply that Roland was dead. It was his way of getting the point across to us as deliberately as possible that from what he had witnessed there was no doubt about it. Then he went into the motorhome and changed out of his driving overalls even though the session was about to re-start. I could not decide what the right thing to do should be; stop like Ayrton or soldier on? I wished the officials had cancelled the rest of the session so as to remove that particular dilemma. It had been left to me to decide whether or not I wished to go out again. You are immediately confronted with the question, `Do I get back into a racing car now - tomorrow - a week later - or never again?' Just how do you decide? It's not as if racing drivers don't know that fatal accidents are a possibility. If a driver does not accept that fact, if he is completely and utterly shocked by an accident like Ratzenberger's, so much so that he cannot get back in a racing car, then he has been deluding himself about the danger up until that point. Of course, racing drivers are not that stupid. But, when confronted with something like this, you are facing a severe and immediate test of whether or not you are prepared to accept the risk. Roland had said he was never as happy as when he got his Formula One drive. It's what he wanted to do. It's what a lot of people want to do and many never get the opportunity. Even so, that does not make situations such as this any easier to accept. Everyone was deeply affected by Roland's death. Williams and Benetton withdrew for the rest of the afternoon; others decided to continue with the session. But the question everyone was asking was, `Why did Roland die?' There was concern that we had got to the point where the inherent risks in Formula One had become greater because of certain factors such as the speed of the cars and their increasing ability to withstand impacts. Something has to give and, in the light of recent accidents, it was turning out to be the driver. Had we reached the totally unacceptable stage where, if a car was going to hit a wall then the driver was going to die? Ironically, in the light of what would happen the following day, Ayrton went to talk with other drivers and people such as Niki Lauda, who had been involved in a horrific accident in 1976. They wanted to know what could be done - and done immediately - about safety. It was agreed that the drivers should meet and discuss these matters, probably at Monaco in two weeks' time. The mood that night was somber to say the least. I stayed at the circuit, ate at the motorhome and generally found it difficult to think of much else but the accident. I tried to concentrate hard on what we were going to do for the race. My thoughts were, `Look, I'm not going to stop racing; I'm looking forward to the Grand Prix. I enjoy my motor racing just as Roland did. Every second you are alive, you've got to be thankful and derive as much pleasure from it as you can.' In some ways, events that afternoon had been a spur, a reminder not to become complacent. It prompted me to be as positive as I could, look forward to the race and pray that something could be done to prevent such things happening again. It was to be a short-lived hope.