PICTURES
THINGS WERE DIFFERENT, THEN.
You could be racing on a US dirt oval on a Saturday and attempting to start your first Formula 1 grand prix – the Italian, at Monza – on the Sunday. You could jet overnight from Indiana to Milan, with your chief championship rival as your wing man – the guy for whom you’d also found an F1 ride that weekend with the BRM team, so you could tow each other around Monza’s long straights like you did back home. You could pass through customs and commandeer the waiting Mini, previously steered by a Lotus mechanic, because you, Mario Andretti, and your partner in crime, Bobby Unser, were really in a dreadful hurry.
You might even be able to dupe a track security guard by…
