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One day of year 1979, I crossed a cheerful and fascinated man. He made build just behind at home. He was already, always, fascinated by his profession. A profession ? No, a passion, a religion : the auto racing event, but quoted dark, highly-rated technical, highly-rated passion which !
In the course of the months and years, one learnt to know, to respect himself, to use, to bear himself, to support himself.
He was called Christian, but everybody knew him under the name CriCri. He haddragged his getres since African sands, with reunite them raids Cïtroen of the 1960s, 1970, up to the bithume of the circuits of Formula 1, with the adventure Renault and its power-driven cars turbo, with the biggest stables of Formula 1 which used the new engines Renault and how much, 5, 6, 7 championships of the world. He was there, always on all the circuits of the world, from Japan to Australia, by way of Brazil, Canada or European circuits.
His dream, a small house in a quite small village of the Charente, Polignac. A small house where he could welcome all his friends, a small house where from he could admire, caress, spoil his trees. Ah, his trees, of the most rachitic oak, saved from a sure death, in the returned maples amoureusement of Canada, by way of a whole family of fruit trees, old apples, rare pears and even an olive tree.
He, who mixed with the engines hyper sophisticated, didn't foresee (is it very true ?) the breakdown of his engine. A day, grey and rainy, as every sad day, he went to the Realm of Happy People there, he, who wanted so much that those who surrounded him are happy.
On Sunday, February 6th, 2000, he left us...
Goodbye the Friend !