11. Bruce JOUANNY - The MyLittleRedCar column in AUTOHEROES #022

Bob Wollek, a cycling enthusiast, had made a habit of cycling from Strasbourg to Le Mans before the 24 Hours of Le Mans. It was on this route that he met his death, struck by a truck near the Sebring 12 Hours circuit in Florida, the day before the race. That was 20 years ago.

In my earliest memories of speed, there's the look of a child mesmerized by the flight of dragonflies. From a very young age, I was captivated by the incredible speed with which this fragile insect could go from stillness to a speed unmatched by any other insect. I later learned that a dragonfly can reach 58 km/h and travel 4 to 9 meters per second in just twenty or so wingbeats. Watching them gave me shivers of delight. Every encounter with these creatures, and other bees or fast-moving insects of all kinds, almost took my breath away, so imagine how I felt on my eleventh birthday during a very different encounter, one that would influence my entire life. It was June 11, 1989, and we were spending the weekend with our closest friends in the Sarthe region of France. Didier, my father's friend, supplied the caravans to a good part of the paddock at the region's biggest event: the 24 Hours of Le Mans! Armed with an all-zone pass, there I was, front row seats in front of the Karting Esse. I don't know what miracle allowed me to catch my breath every time I went by, but the thrill of it still runs through me today. In my memory, there were only prototypes at Le Mans. At night, on the Mulsanne Straight, two cars held my attention: the Mazda 767 with the screeching sound of its rotary engine and the Aston Martins with their deep rumble, which still echoes in my head today. You have to realize that until then, I spent my time watching the speedometers of cars and motorcycles, and the most famous one, my ultimate dream, was the Suzuki 1100 GSXR with 320 km/h plus a bar! The fact that my father's friend could give me free access to the entire area of ​​the famous circuit allowed me to dedicate all my youthful enthusiasm to the quest for the Holy Grail. That weekend, I found it with Bob Wolleck from Alsace at the wheel of the pink Porsche 962, which flashed past me every three and a half minutes—intense minutes during which I gasped for breath, my heart pounding, just to catch a glimpse of the "pink pig" racing car from the Japanese sponsor. At that time, if someone had told me that, 19 years later, I would be taking part in this legendary race, and three times at that, I don't think I would have believed them. I had no intention of becoming a race car driver. I should have fit the stereotype of children from wealthy Parisian neighborhoods who pursue careers as doctors or lawyers. But even then, I dreamed of piloting a fighter jet, and this passion for speed and performance would remain central to my life. I started karting training the following year, and Formula 1 quickly became my primary goal. At that time, I wasn't yet considering the 24 Hours of Le Mans, and yet it was there, behind the wheel of sports prototypes, that I spent a good part of my career! Even though I never met him, I was deeply affected by the accidental death of Bob Wollek in the United States, before the 12 Hours of Sebring. A little piece of my childhood went with him, but his car, the pink Porsche 962, is firmly etched in my memory. What a thrill it was to see it again in miniature a few years later! You can easily understand why discovering the photograph of My Little Red Car gave me goosebumps.

Bruce Jouanny for MyLittleRedCar

Bruce at the age where all dreams of speed are still possible.

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