Dijon, It Works... Until It Breaks

Where do I start? There is so much to say about this weekend, so much to say about the Dijon-Prenois circuit.

The duel between Rene Arnoux and Gilles Villeneuve in 1979 took place on this very circuit. That battle for second place raged in the final laps of the French Grand Prix back then.

Forty-three years later, that fight still echoes through Formula 1 history. Neither driver ever won the world championship. Yet no one can mention Dijon without thinking about that legendary finale.

I will admit a tear comes to my eye as I think about what I am about to share. Writing this, I realize what I have just experienced.

A Rough Friday Morning

I spent countless hours watching Eric Lecluse's onboard videos (he leads the category) to prepare mentally. Planning my lines, memorizing every corner, scouting potential overtaking spots for the race.

It is Friday morning. The Lotus 69 sits there, perfectly prepped by Classic Racing School. It rained all day yesterday. The track will be cold and slippery. The corners are normally taken flat. Not this morning. Patience is mandatory.

Luckily, I roll out right behind Eric. Perfect for learning at a calm pace. I follow him closely but leave a safe gap. I am learning. He is seriously quick, but I hang on.

Then the marshals wave the black-and-orange flag at me: mechanical issue, return to the pits immediately.

I was laying down an oil trail.

Feels Like Magny-Cours

That leak cost us the whole day. The gearbox and flywheel had to come out to replace the crankshaft seal. It was not on the schedule. What a job for the mechanics when there are six of us running in the team.

Just like at Magny-Cours a month ago, I barely turned a wheel before qualifying.

Qualifying brings no luck. Heavy traffic keeps me from banking a clean lap, and the laps I do get are messy. I rush, overdrive, make mistakes. Worse still, I cannot grab anyone's tow.

I am clearly not happy climbing out of the car. Yet I can only be thankful I got to drive at all. Theo, Antoine, Thomas: another massive thank you for that intervention.

Result: fifth in class, behind Federico Sanchez-Bedoya and ahead of my teammates Nicolas Leblond and the rest.

Wait a minute... ...it is the exact same grid order as Magny-Cours!

On Saturday, as I line up for race one, I greet Theo and point it out. I laugh as I say it. But deep down, that really is my mindset.

Win the race.

A Tough Build-Up

Within the team, some are also racing the Kent-Zetec Trophy. Barely twenty minutes after their race, I will be climbing into my car for the Historic Challenge. They will be jumping back into theirs. I follow my usual routine: meditate, sitting on the pitlane asphalt. I shut out the chaos and look for calm. Lower the pressure. Quiet the nerves. Sharpen the senses. Red flag.

All the cars stream back to the pits. Our teammates take their time returning. One of them appears. Where is the other?

Several long minutes pass before we hear he has been taken to the medical car. Of course we want to know: is he okay? We forget that medical confidentiality applies here too.

His car eventually makes it back to the garage, damaged. A wheel collapsed entirely. It is not pretty. Thankfully, he is fine. But the mental toll is real, and that pressure sits right on my shoulders: there is no need to get carried away.

Julien Chaffard, my coach, sees it. He pulls me aside for a long chat while the mechanics keep prepping the car.

Same Starting Spot

Gridding up, I am in the same slot as Magny-Cours: fifth.

The cars in front seem manageable. The start is solid and I hang on in the early laps. I pass Federico, then Nicolas. Michel Dupont and I size each other up again. Eric is way out front.

I set personal best laps. I am in the zone, playing cat-and-mouse with Michel. We both know it: we want that second place. It turns into a psychological duel, just like Magny-Cours, and we are wheel to wheel more than once.

This time Michel keeps his nose clean. No repeat of the earlier spin. We fight right up to the final lap.

The Final Lap... and Disaster

We are side by side into Parabolique. I take the outside, hoping to set up an undercut. He shuts the door. Fair enough. We attack the last straight. It will all come down to the tow. He lunges, I counter, and we cross the line inches apart.

I grab second place. Relief. Joy. That same finish as Magny-Cours, but this time I stay ahead.

Back in the pits, though, I am still restless. I am convinced I could have won if I had handled the opening laps better.

Julien reassures me. We debrief the video. There is room to improve, but nothing dramatic. Focus on race two. Take a breath.

Race Two: Going for More

Sunday brings better weather. I start from second, right alongside Eric. Michel lines up behind us. I know exactly what is at stake. If I can stick with Eric and keep Michel behind, I can fight for the win.

Lights out. Eric rockets away. I slot in behind him. Michel is right on my gearbox. Two bends later, I lose second place in the heat of the battle with the leaders. Rage. I bite down and chase after him.

Two laps in, I pass Michel again. Now it is a repeat of race one: swapping places, lap after lap. My radio crackles-Julien urges me to think strategy, to break the tow, to stay disciplined.

But I cannot resist. I want to recreate that 1979 duel I watched so many times. Why not try to channel that energy now? His car is red, we are wheel to wheel time and again. We never touch, but it is close. We are fighting for second, far behind Eric. The parallels are uncanny. Even my father watches, just like in 1979, standing in the same spot, witnessing the scrap.

Two laps to go, I get by. I am no longer myself. The focus is absolute. Lines. Braking. Where is he? Is he setting up a move? No. He waits. He does not appear to be pushing. Why?

Final straight. The tow will let him pass-it is undefendable, clever move. No way. Fake a big mistake, let him through, glue myself to his diffuser. Right up to the line. It works. He takes the bait and slips ahead one last time.

Last lap.

Stay glued to him. I lose ground but it should be fine. No, he is pulling away-how? Keep pushing, I can still do this.

Final corner. Watch the revs-no over-revving now. Nail the line one last time. Try for the draft. My tachometer... 6000 rpm... that is 1000 down on normal.

What is happening? Ah, the needle bounces back. No, it drops again. Something is wrong. I grab fourth gear to reduce the revs and protect the engine. Too late-something literally explodes behind me and smoke pours into the cockpit. I smell burning, my feet heat up near the radiator.

The straight. This is dangerous; I need to stop, but where? I pull to the left. I am coasting. Then I see the checkered flag. Right. Final lap. I have enough speed to roll across, even with no engine. Wait, I am third-do I have time before someone catches me? Please let me cross in time.

I spot Regis Prevost in the mirror. He is distant but fast-he still has an engine. Come on! Keep rolling! It reeks of burning, but whatever. At this point I have to finish.

No Place to Hide

With the engine blown and smoke still billowing, I wait for the safety cars. The commentator is hyped, and over the noise I assist the marshal loading my car onto the tow truck. From across the track, I watch the podium ceremony and trophy presentations.

Fourth place for me. Just off the podium.

Once again I ride back on a tow truck. Crestfallen. I need to explain to the mechanics how I managed to destroy their hard work. This car is loaned to me. They spend hours preparing it. Bringing back a trophy is a way to thank them, but bringing back an intact car is paramount. And I failed at that simple mission-out of ambition and poor judgment.

Yet in front of my father, who came to watch, I nearly replicated the duel he witnessed 43 years earlier between Arnoux and Villeneuve-with Michel Dupont this time.

So yes, back in the garage I spent most of the time talking with the team about the consequences, possible fixes, and, sadly, the costs. Plenty of apologies to the mechanics, plenty of shared frustration. I was grumpy, and honestly I have barely spoken to the car since that race.

Still, Dad, this story is for you.

Never Forget Who Got Us Here

I barely mentioned them so far. Too much to tell already.

But they are the reason I feel so sheepish. Because thanks to them I lived these unbelievable moments. Because I owe it to them to return the car in good condition. A huge thank-you to our partners-none of this would be possible without you.

Thanks to the Volant Michel Vaillant x YEMA, to the Vaillante Academie, to the Circuits de Vendee, to watchmaker YEMA, and to equipment supplier RRS.

And I cannot finish without another round of thanks to Classic Racing School and, above all, mechanics Theo, Antoine, and Thomas for their work on the car.

Thanks guys. I am living my dream because of you. I am sorry again about the car. I promise-next time that red warning light flickers for even a tenth of a second, I will stop right away.