Fangio: The life behind the legend

When another driver died — and over 30 of them did during his time in Europe — Juan tried to reassure himself that his accident had happened as the result of a mistake. He was fully aware that his crash at Lesmo had happened for the same reason as the 1948 crash that claimed the life of his friend Daniel Urrutia: in each case, the common factor was driver fatigue. He resolved never again to drive when he was tired (a vow he kept even when driving on everyday roads), nor would he allow himself ever again to dwell on the likelihood of crashing. Like most drivers, though he feared dying in circumstances that were beyond his control, Juan felt certain that, provided he could keep his negative emotions in check, he could remain master of his own destiny. ‘When you feel sure of yourself and have confidence in your car’, he said, ‘you don't think about the possibility of an accident. I believe that if somebody thinks he is going to have an accident it is better for him not to race at all’.

More than anyone, Fangio represented the sporting ethic of a period of motor racing that is now long past. He was an artist in the cockpit, tremendously fast, and a daunting competitor. But he wasn't flamboyant. He didn't play to the gallery. He always said the best way to win a race was by going as slowly as possible.