“It made a dent. The end.” Rudolf Ratzenberger has been living with the “catastrophe” for 30 years. “We have come to an arrangement,” says the Austrian. As far as that is possible, if the son is torn from the middle of life.
April 30, 1994, at lunchtime on this beautiful Saturday in Imola: Formula 1 qualifying for the San Marino Grand Prix is on the program. The third in the life of Roland Ratzenberger, 33 years old. His last. In the densely packed media center, journalists groaned as they looked at the small monitors as the Simtek with Ratzenberger slid back onto the slopes at 1:22 p.m. The left side is torn away, the left knee can be seen through a hole in the monocoque. The wreck stands. But something is moving. The helmet. He slowly tips to the side. It becomes quiet. For a moment.