A/N: A followup to the 1966 Formula 1 film "Grand Prix".

How Far is Far Enough?

Pete Aron sat in the large easy chair in his den; upholstered in black and white leather in the pattern of a checkered flag, it was a gaudy but perfect accompaniment to the room that housed many mementos from his racing career. There were trophies from races won, trophies from races lost, and items that served as trophies of events and people. Pete looked at them idly while he listened to the pre-recorded program on the radio.

"And we're back. I'm Karen Ottman, and I'm talking with former World Champion Pete Aron who has just completed the 1971 Formula One season third in points behind champion Jackie Stewart. Pete, it's good of you to sit down and talk to us. I'm sure that with the demands of the racing season, there are few opportunities for a driver to relax and I'm grateful for this chance."

"Thank you, Karen. Ah, what you say is very true - with the increasing demands put on us drivers by sponsors for appearances and endorsements, and testing and the racing we do in other series, it almost seems that it's a twelve month season now. When I first started out on small dirt tracks, we simply didn't race during the coldest part of the year. But internationally, when it's winter at home you have summer weather in Australia, South Africa and South America. On any given weekend there is a race SOMEWHERE in the world."

"Would you say you race more now or earlier in your career?"

"Definitely less now. As a young racer, you drive anything you can just to get the seat time and hopefully impress an owner with better equipment to give you a chance. You race to win no matter what you drive; it doesn't matter whether it's a go-cart or a Formula One car. But in most racing series there are steps you take from the lower levels to the top. In the United States you work your way up from midgets to Indy, or modifieds to the NASCAR circuit. In Europe they have their smaller series as well, either sports cars or formula cars, that graduate to Le Mans or Formula One. When you get to the higher levels you can crossover sometimes like I did to Europe; and some of the stars there have run Indy without turning a single lap in the smaller bullring tracks."

"And they've done well."

"Some have. Jimmy won in '65, and Graham won in '66. At that level you can pretty much drive anything with wheels."

"So you use the same skills no matter what car you have, is that what you're saying?"

"In so many words. You have three important variables that come together on race day. The first involves those skills you talk about. The best car isn't going to win if the driver doesn't know how to use it well. It's his control that keeps the car on the track and applying the power of the engine to the road. Accelerating, braking, steering and shifting gears are all done by the driver and him alone.

The second is the car - that's where the engineers and mechanics come in. Cars aren't designed to last forever; they're built to hopefully last long enough to cross the finish line before falling apart. If they're built too sturdy in order to last they'll be as heavy as a tank and be the slowest thing on the track. Even the best driver in the world isn't going to do well with a car that's too heavy or one that breaks half-way through the race. I took a mid-race swim in Monaco one year when I had some mechanical issues."

"And the third?"

"There's the race itself. Except for hill climbs, you don't race alone. There are usually at least a dozen or two other drivers on the track at the same time pushing their skills and machinery to the limits and sometimes beyond. And if that wasn't enough, the track itself can throw surprises at you. I've driven into sudden downpours before, been blown around by wind gusts, and even had one track begin to break apart where the pavement was starting to come up in a corner."

"It's a wonder you've done so well."

"Skill is part of it, but luck is too. There may be twenty cars on the track, but realistically only half a dozen have a good chance of winning normally. Some teams just have superior equipment, and it isn't always the same team every year. Your engineers can come up with a great idea to put you on top one year, and the next year everyone has copied it or improved it and you end up breathing their exhaust either the whole season or at least enough races to let your engineers catch up. And that's assuming the sanctioning body doesn't change the rules on you too. A driver that stays with one team his whole career can see hills and valleys that correspond with his car's superiority or lack thereof."

"Like when you won the title in '66?"

"That's a good example. I started out with Jordan, then switched to Yamura just when they were perfecting their cars. If I had driven for them a year earlier, it probably wouldn't have turned out nearly as well."

"Based on the results that we saw this year, I'd say Tyrrell had the advantage this season."

"That's an understatement. They clearly had the best cars on the track, and Jackie and Francois are two of the most talented drivers out there."

"So Pete Aron was Best in Class?"

"Something like that. It goes in cycles, as I said. This year was just their year."

"Speaking of year, I hear that you're getting involved in Hollywood. Planning on being a big star?"

"Hardly, Karen. I've been asked to play a small part in a movie about racing that's being developed right now. I'm one of the background people that get to say a line or two with the stars. The director wanted to give it some authenticity, so he rounded up a few of us current drivers to show our faces and maybe offer our suggestions as professionals. We're racers, not actors - you won't catch us going to acting school and I'm sure it will show on the screen. Acting isn't one of our skills, I'm afraid."

"In your opinion, what would be the biggest skill a driver needs?"

"Hmm. Good question. Hmm. Sorry, I hadn't really thought of it in those terms before. If I had to choose one above all else, I'd have to say the ability to know how far is far enough. I'll probably have to explain that."

"Please do."

"Well, a driver sits down in a car, like I'm sitting in front of you now, but a lot lower to the ground. We can see things rushing toward us at speed, spectators and barriers whipping past us in a blur on the sides, and just little mirrors to tell us what's behind us. So we have to rely on learning and instinct just how far to push ourselves to go really fast. When you learn to race on a new course, you start slowly and progressively push yourself harder each lap. Pretty soon you KNOW just where that next corner is even if you can't see it, and then you start trying to brake at the latest possible moment to slow for it; you can't ride your brake and go fast, too. So you keep waiting longer and longer until one time you cross the line, and you either slide, spin or crash. Then you start over again and find that line; that is when far is far enough. The same applies to the width of the track - you can put your two wheels on the edge and be okay but knock 'em into the wall or slip into the grass and you're in trouble. But the fastest way is using the whole track to flatten out the curves as much as possible, so you play the game again to find out how far is far enough."

"It sounds like you're on the edge all the time."

"Most of the time you are. For instance, the thing that scared me the most as a driver was the long straight at Le Mans. It's the only place you just drive flat out and don't have to brake or shift for almost an eternity until the very end, but I had to push myself to drive the car at top speed until the turn. At night it was even worse, because you can only rely on markers on the side of the track to gauge where you are. Mentally, I was still on the edge even though I was in the most boring part of the track there is. Always trying to find that line where far is far enough."

"I don't even want to think about how frightening it is to drive that fast at night, so let me switch topics. Of course the racing world has heard by now about Mr. Yamura's announcement a few days ago that he has decided that 1971 was going to be the last year for his company's involvement in Formula One. Where does that leave you?"

"Karen, I've been pretty fortunate to be able to drive for some great teams. Not just Yamura, but Jordan and Ferrari before that. I had a good year, but not as good as the Tyrrell team. I've been lucky enough to win the championship, which is something that few can claim. I really don't have anything to prove any longer, and that's why I've decided to retire."

"Retire? You've just announced to the world on our show that you're going to retire? I knew this was going to be an exclusive, but I think I speak for many fans when I say that we're more than a little surprised."

"I've been thinking about it for some time, and I've already spoken with Mr. Yamura at length. Even if he had continued his operation, I was going to hang up my helmet after this year. I didn't want to have a big farewell tour or anything like that - I just wanted to race and walk away."

"I'm still a little stunned. For our listeners out there, as an interviewer we try to prepare a few notes for the questions we want to ask. I don't have anything written about retirement. See?"

"No, I trust you Karen."

"So, I guess those rumors about offers from other teams are just that."

"Oh, I've been approached - but I kind of left each team with the idea I was going somewhere else. And I am - to my home."

"For a short time you were a broadcaster. Are you going to try it again?"

"There was a reason my career as a broadcaster was short, and it wasn't just being hired by Mr. Yamura. No, I just don't come off well conducting an interview. Answering questions, I'm okay I guess - asking the questions, not so much. I'll still show up to a few races as a spectator, and probably for some filming on that project I mentioned, but otherwise I'm done. I hear golf can be a nice hobby; I think I'll try that for a bit."

"Pete, I'd like to talk more but our time is up for today. Any chance I can have you on again sometime?"

"Sure Karen - you know how to contact me, and it's not like I'm going to be trotting around the globe as much anymore."

"Thank you, Pete. Well, racing fans, that wraps up the interview segment of our show. Next we move onto racing news beyond what we just found out..."

Pete got up out of the chair and turned the radio off, then walked over to a wall and looked at the photographs hanging there. Pictures of him with various friends, both before and after races. Jean-Pierre Sarti. Scott Stoddard. Jimmy Clark. Mike Hawthorne. Competitors, teammates, friends, mentors.

And all dead.

It was a dangerous sport. In an effort to extract every last bit of performance, engineers pushed design limits and then drivers pushed past those. Sarti had died the year Pete had won the championship, a victim of the failure of a competitor's car in a race that was supposed to be his last - ironically, it was. Clark wasn't even racing in the top level when his car broke and killed him. Stoddard had retired, then came back because he had to chase the ghost of his older brother's success and ended up engulfed in an inferno of oil and fuel. Hawthorne had died behind the wheel of his passenger car right after retiring, with the knowledge that the doctors had only given him three years to live due to his kidney problems.

Karen didn't mention them - no one did. You tried to block it out, the sport tried to blot it out like it never happened, and everyone was smiles and good times by the next race for the cameras and the fans to see. Everyone in the world died eventually, so why dwell on it.

Sarti had tried to tell me, couching it by saying he was "getting tired". Pete didn't understand at the time, but he did now and THAT was the reason he was retiring. Beyond his limits as a driver, the limits of the track and the limits of the cars themselves was the limit you reached when something inside said it just wasn't worth it any longer.

And that was how far is far enough. Pete grabbed a beer out of his mini-fridge and wandered out of the room of memories to see what his wife was doing. He could hear the phone ringing; no doubt the reaction to someone he knew who had just listened to the radio interview too. He ignored it and continued on; home life was his number one priority now, and everything else was just going to have to take a backseat to it.

The End

A/N: No CGI, some trickery shots but also some legitimate racing footage and a good feel for what racing was like in a simpler age. Yes, it was dramatic of course, but that was what they were reaching for and succeeded. As a young boy I watched this on TV and liked the racing, but was bored with the talk. Now, I can appreciate the characterizations and take the movie as a whole.