Fittipaldi: How I broke into Formula 1

In 1968, I had a long talk with my Anglo-Brazilian friend Jerry Cunningham, with whom I'd just won the 1967 Formula Vee championship, about what we should do next. I had proved that I was quick enough to win races in Brazil, but I had no idea whether I would be good enough to compete against the best drivers in the world.

You have to realise that, as a 21-year-old Brazilian who'd never left my home country, I regarded guys like Graham Hill and Jim Clark and Jackie Stewart as heroes from another universe.

Jerry said I should take the plunge and go to England, so in February 1969 we flew from Sao Paulo to Gatwick Airport. As our British Caledonian Boeing 727 touched down, I had two thoughts: "What a cold, grey, foggy country" and "I can't believe I'm in the land of Hill, Clark and Stewart!" That sent a shiver of excitement running up and down my spine.

I also recall allowing myself to frame an ambition at that moment: "If I can start just a single grand prix, that'll make me happy, that'll be enough," I remember saying to myself as we taxied to the gate.

The obvious route was through Formula Ford. But I had no money, so I offered my services as a mechanic to a guy called Dennis Rowland. He put me to work in his workshop in Wimbledon, tuning Ford Cortina engines. My payment was an engine for my Formula Ford car, which was a Merlyn.

Fittipaldi made his F1 debut with Lotus at Brands Hatch in 1970 © LAT

I won in only my second Formula Ford race in that Merlyn, at Snetterton in June 1969, and won a few more after that too. Jim Russell had been keeping an eye on Formula Ford, and invited me to race his Lotus 59 Formula 3 car in the 1969 Guards Trophy at Brands Hatch. My mechanic was Ralph Firman, who went on to found the Van Diemen company in 1973, but at that time was a Formula 3 rookie's mechanic, and his Formula 3 rookie that day was me.

I was unclassified in heat one, but I won heat two and finished third in heat three: not a bad Formula 3 debut. More important still, in winning a heat, I'd shown that I could compete with the brightest young drivers. I'd beaten Ronnie Peterson and James Hunt, and although James had been driving a Brabham BT21, Ronnie was in a Lotus 59 - the same as me.

Colin Chapman, the Lotus boss, noticed my performance that day, as did Frank Williams, founder of the Williams team. After my third Formula 3 win of the year, Colin called me and offered me a Formula 1 drive there and then. I was so amazed, but I refused it because I didn't think I was yet ready. Frank flew to see me in my little house in Norwich in a small private plane. He offered me a Formula 1 drive too, which I also refused.

But the following year, 1970, I felt ready. So when Colin invited me to drive one of his Formula 1 cars in a Grand Prix, I said yes. I tested the Lotus 49 at Silverstone, and everything went well enough, so it was decided that my Formula 1 debut would take place in mid-July, at the British Grand Prix at Brands Hatch, which was a circuit that I not only knew but also loved.

My team-mates were Jochen Rindt, in the newer and faster Lotus 72, and the great Graham Hill, in a 49 like mine. He was already a double World Champion and one of my heroes. I felt both nervous and excited. I qualified 21st, which wasn't great, but I'd reached the target I'd set myself at Gatwick Airport just over a year before. Even better, Graham was alongside me, having qualified 22nd.

The following day was one I will never forget. As I brought my 49 to a stop at the end of the parade lap, I looked across. There was the distinctive profile of Graham Hill. Over the next 117 minutes, we carved our way through the field together. Graham finished sixth; I finished eighth; Jochen won in the 72.

Two weeks later, at the German Grand Prix at Hockenheim, I finished fourth; Jochen won again. Jochen was a magnificent driver - and a lovely guy. Ever since my first Formula 1 test, he'd been incredibly helpful, always eager to see that his rookie team-mate was preparing for Grands Prix the right way.

The next race was the Austrian Grand Prix, where Jochen's engine failed. I could only finish 15th, but the race after that was the Italian Grand Prix at Monza, and I was massively excited about racing there.

Rindt's death hit Lotus hard, and Fittipaldi felt more pressure from then on © LAT

On the Saturday morning, just before qualifying, I had breakfast with Jochen at the Hotel de la Ville in Monza, where most of the Formula 1 drivers still stay to this day. He said, "Emerson, next year I don't want to race in Formula 2 as well as Formula 1, so Bernie Ecclestone [Jochen's manager] and I would like you to race for us in Formula 2 next year. What do you say?" I said, "Sure, Jochen, I accept," and we shook hands.

Just a few hours later, his 72 got away from him at high speed, under braking for the fast Parabolica right-hander at the end of a quick qualifying lap, and slammed into a crash barrier stanchion. He was killed instantly.

Jochen was as quick and as able as anyone who has ever sat in a Formula 1 car, and his death was incredibly tough for all of us drivers. He'd been leading the World Championship chase when he'd died, and no one would overtake his points total for the remainder of the year, making him the only posthumous World Champion in Formula 1 history.

For me, aged just 23 and away from my family, autumn 1970 was a time in which I had to dig deep. Colin decided that Lotus would skip the next Grand Prix at Mont Tremblant, Canada, but opted to resume the team's participation at the following race, the United States Grand Prix at Watkins Glen.

I knew I didn't have enough experience to be Lotus' team leader, and consequently I felt enormous pressure on me. Still, I was in a 72 now, and qualified third, which was a good morale boost for the team. And just ahead of me, in P2, was one of my childhood heroes: the one and only Jackie Stewart.

However, that evening I began to feel ill, developing a high temperature, and I went to bed early. I couldn't sleep, and I called a doctor. He gave me some medicine, but I still didn't sleep at all that night. The next morning I was nervous and ill at ease. But when the flag dropped and the race started, everything started to go right.

I was driving well, behind Jackie Stewart's Tyrrell and Pedro Rodriguez's BRM. My 72 felt really good, and I began to grow in confidence. I didn't think I was going to be able to pass Pedro or Jackie, but I was pretty confident that I was going to finish third, and I began to look forward to my first appearance on a Grand Prix podium.

But then Jackie's Tyrrell suffered an oil leak, causing him to retire, and that left me in second place behind Pedro's BRM. "Second is pretty good," I said to myself, but what I didn't know was that ahead of me Pedro was beginning to run low on fuel.

With eight laps to go, he darted into the pits for a top-up, and that was enough to drop him to second. I was in only my fourth grand prix, and I was in the lead.

I reeled off the remaining laps in a bit of a dream, but I still have a very clear vision in my mind's eye of driving around the last corner of the last lap, and seeing Colin running onto the track and throwing his cap into the air.

As a child I'd seen so many photos of him doing that for Jim Clark and Graham Hill, and now he was doing it for me. It's still a wonderful memory.

More than just an autobiography, 'Emmo: A Racer's Soul' is a fitting tribute to the glorious career that made its author a worldwide superstar, and an evocative glimpse back into a golden era of Formula 1. Click here to find out more about the book and to purchase a copy.