Nicknamed "the hammer", he is the man with the most pole positions of all time.
He is not the gentleman driver of the past, not a prodigy of elegance and refinement.
Lewis Hamilton in Men’s Health.
Full of tattoos and earrings, questionable looks, massive and constant presence on all available social networks, globe trotter of parties and entertainment all over the world. Faithful mirror of our irreverent time, the link between the old formula one and that of now. The first of the drivers "different" from the traditional standard, a tragic example for young drivers approaching Formula 1, experienced as an instrument of visibility rather than a passion to live and die for.
Lewis Hamilton at Montreal in 2011.
But when he sits behind the wheel, Lewis is not afraid, he doesn’t envy anyone, he doesn’t care about safety (he doesn’t like safety cars), he doesn’t tremble if it rains, he makes no excuses. He puts the car into the first gear and does the fastest lap. He did it more than all the drivers of all time. Because Lewis Hamilton, in the cockpit of a Formula 1, is one of the greats, he is by right one of them, a great, very fast driver. If there is to go fast he eats everyone's breakfast.
Lewis Hamilton’s private jet.
When he gets out of the car, however, it is impossible not to understand why the Formula 1 of the past was more fascinating. In today's political correctness he is the playboy of reference.
He knows the limit not to be crossed with women, he does what he is allowed.
Before his retirement he will perhaps have the "grid guys", we don’t wish him that. We have memories of another time, of another custom.
We remember when James got out of the car.
With one look he dazzled and he would have women at his feet even without a pound. When kisses were given out of passion.
James Hunt didn’t care about everything, he enjoyed what he was doing at that moment, with the inevitable beers and cigarettes, with the racing overall folded at the waist.
Too easy to blame the times, natural evolution and so on. In today's motor racing, money has gone beyond pleasure. Better, the pleasure of money has surpassed that of racing. It is not just about the melancholy of past times, the charm of distant times, but the objective beauty and purity of a noble sport. Not only, therefore, a question of fascination given by the extremely dangerous cars or by the inexistence of political correctness, zero anti-smoking laws or formalities.
In defense of the contemporary Champion, maximum respect for any driver, always, except when he chooses his clothes at a fashion show.
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