Once upon a time, at Imola ... 
One thing I always hear, for 4 years now, when I run. Meglio, when I run and it is spring. I do not speak of nature in bloom, the many colors that look to life after the winter hibernation, sometimes scorching sun at times still fresh, I can almost see him shaking rays the last veil of frost. Do not even speak of the wind each year, working like a Swiss watch, takes a run up and down along the valley between the hills channeled to address more forcefully the final sprint (long stroke which, ettepareva, forcing her to meet the undersigned do three times the effort). I speak of a longing, subtle but noticeable to those who, like me, Imola, still remembers vividly what brought with him the spring to 4 years ago: People, people, flags, trumpets on stage, foreign languages, will to win, confusion, tents, shacks of piadine placed everywhere, roads closed to traffic, road-signs parking areas to each tree, music and night came down from the hills. And then, at 13 to 14 on Saturday and Sunday, a strange silence, a rare, accompanied by a constant noise .. who call it noise I do not like, because "noise" is something that bothers you, you irritating. I waited all year, so for me it was not noise, it was melody.
seems like yesterday.
Hope with all my heart that this weekend had good weather, at least not raining. And the years, unfortunately rare, in which the race was scheduled for more than half of April, was the joy. Being woken in the morning by the sound of helicopters, even when I was in the old house. Having breakfast in a hurry, rush into the garden, observing the streets crowded with cars and the bike path traveled by waves of fans all colors. Helping my aunt and uncle "to make parking" and make it a bit 'too, could not fit in my yard 4 or 5 cars and a few engine. I remember one year, I still average, three children spent the night in a tent in my patch of lawn. Me and my friend strolled around them, they were very nice and then they were great and we did lose his head. Follow the race on TV, knowing that if we lowered the volume, the machines would make it feel coming from the windows. Ask dad to take me up the hills, to see just a little 'flutter of a few German happily drunk, certain details of Imola magically different huge truck parked along the road along the Rivazza, makeshift camps near the Tosa, the bridge entrance Autodromo hopelessly crowded with stalls. Be proud to see so many people here, right here in my town who simply love it. Feel the sadness grow, on Sunday afternoon, in return see all the cars, to motorcycles, campers, as well as coaches .. give some indication to avoid the queues, I little girl that I was wandering around in cycling between foreigners and Italians, and every time it did not seem real to have them all there.
2004 was the last year when the circuit hosted the Imola Grand Prix Formula 1. Forget my childish memories. Never mind the fact that the route was changed, the entire building that housed the box was blown up and rebuilt and then upgraded. Never mind that all this has cost a tot of money, as is readily obtainable. Never mind many things, that (I think I can speak for a certain number of Imola), we have remained on the rump. But the story, where we put it? Where we put the name of the circuit, except to say, is entitled to two certain gentlemen, Enzo and Dino Ferrari ? Where we put her curves, her climb over our beautiful hills and down to the river Santerno almost everything we should dive in? Where do I put the memory of those who, regardless of individual responsibility, here at Imola has left us his life? Sure, the memory of Senna and Ratzenberger not depend on a strip of asphalt, not as dependent on a statue or bouquets of flowers that anyone still supports us. I, for example, the Grand Prix at Imola or not, I'll always remember the noise of the helicopter that passed over my house to bring Airton hospital. However, I remain convinced that Eccleston would be left to the green if marked the whole shebang here. Just lower the ticket prices (now staggering in recent years) and would return to the galleries to be invaded by the faithful fans at Imola. But perhaps it is better run in the desert, with only a skinny little tree to do some 'shadow and no flag colored horizon. And if you see it, do not be fooled: it's just a mirage due all'arsura.
