I hate car racing and drivers.
Having grown up on the edge of the Bugatti circuit where, every year, sports cars go around in circles for 24 hours in front of thousands of amazed spectators from all over the world, that's to say that I had a difficult childhood.
The city lived only for this event.
The Earth took 365 days to go around the Sun and, one day a year, we celebrated the event by going around a circuit.
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Going in circles: that's the general impression I keep from my youth, in this city where everything seemed to repeat itself infinitely, like an endless day.
At Le Mans, everything lasts 24 hours and repeats every year.
The 24 Hours of Le Mans car, the 24 Hours of Le Mans motorcycle, truck, karting, books… For my part, I will have lived there 157,680 hours.
My oldest automobile memory is that of a sudden brake application which caused the bassinet in which my parents had comfortably placed me to waltz and which threw me onto the floor of the family Peugeot 104.
There…
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