The WRC's rock star has left the building

He stopped. He came back. He smiled. He went.

And now he's gone.

Sebastien Loeb is no longer a driver in the World Rally Championship. I can still hardly take it in as I type it. And I had absolutely no idea just how emotional his final rally would be... emotional that is for everybody but the man himself. Loeb, you see, is not a crier.

For me, this was a two-part problem (Loeb's departure, not the fact that he wasn't shedding many tears). The first part is that I don't like change or saying goodbye. The second part is that we haven't had a superhero retire for quite a while now.

Think about it...

Petter Solberg went at the end of last year, but has he really gone? He might be back. And before that it was Marcus Gronholm (2007) and Carlos Sainz (2004 - although he did pop back for a couple in 2005). Obviously we had the tragedies of Colin McRae and Richard Burns, but they were goodbyes of a completely different kind.

So, we're not really used to it. And this is definitely the first time we've waved farewell to a driver who has won 78 rounds of the championship and nine titles.

Loeb's WRC farewell didn't end as he would have wanted © XPB

The good news is that last week's Rally of France was an entirely fitting way to send Seb off. That is apart from the fact that he ended it upside down in a ditch on a miserable Sunday morning.

As they have every year since his home round moved to his hometown in 2010, thousands and thousands of people turned out to see him. Two years ago, I stood on the steps of Citroen's command centre in the Strasbourg service park with team principal Olivier Quesnel.

"Sebastien is not a rally driver anymore," said Quesnel, looking out over the massed ranks of fans. "He's a rock star."

Last week, he took that to another level. I found myself pondering this point with a couple of the Citroen mechanics. Who or what, I wondered is bigger than a rock star?

"Dieu."

God.

I think they might be right.

Loeb: a relaxed superhero © XPB

Beyond his astonishing ability behind the wheel, one of the things I've always found most appealing about Loeb is the way he's stayed completely normal. There's nothing flash, nothing fancy; no airs and no graces. He's found the spotlight a difficult place to be, but he's learned to live with it on him and he's learned how to be a public man.

And he's achieved that all with immense dignity and decency. When Sebastien Ogier was crowned world champion in Strasbourg last Thursday night, Loeb was straight out of his car at the end of the stage to congratulate the man who would replace him.

Prior to the event, much had been made of the rivalry between the pair. As much as anybody, I had revved up the potential for one last fight. And, make no mistake, in the middle of the event and just before Loeb's Citroen DS3 WRC swapped ends and flipped at the start of the Vignoble de Cleebourg stage, the fight was absolutely on. The intensity was as uncompromising as it had ever been. But the minute it was over, done and finished. Loeb remembered why he was here. A farewell tour.

There was no shoutiness, no banging of the wheel, no visible frustration of any real kind. Just the voice of Daniel Elena.

"Eh bien voila."

Well, that's that then.

There was momentary concern from the team. Loeb was quickly out of the car, but where was Elena?

He was taking his time. For him, this was it. Loeb will be back in a racesuit, pulling big Gs, nibbling apexes and pushing the limits in the World Touring Car championship next season. Elena won't be. His racesuit is bound for the back of the wardrobe.

Elena has been alongside Loeb from the beginning © LAT

Loeb admitted it was Elena he felt most sorry for.

"I think," Loeb says after the shunt, "it will be more difficult for Daniel - he finishes his last rally with his office on the roof."

Loeb's mood following his final act in a rally car was upbeat and forward-looking. He left it to the rest of us to reflect.

And it was a week full of reflection. I thought about the first time I met Loeb and how he'd changed in the following decade. In all honesty, he hasn't changed so much. His Sunday stubble looks a little more salt than pepper, but his expressions remain the same. Mid-interview, you'll still find him with one hand on the hip, while the other hand occasionally slaps the side of his leg, denoting ambivalence towards something.

And that deep consideration and thought given once the interview is up and running remains. Even after all this time, he's still not given to the one-liner. If an interview is worth doing, it's worth doing properly.

And on Sunday, we made our final interview. Properly. It didn't last long, but it meant a lot to me.

As you might have read in my preview piece to last week's rally, Loeb and I have had our moments. Well, one really to speak of. Since our crossed words in New Zealand a few years ago, I've never felt I'd regained the trust I once had from him.

On Sunday, I felt that changed. He was a man under pressure. He'd just crashed his car and he was in demand just about everywhere - not least for a personal appearance through the sunroof of a Citroen in the Haguenau stage.

Loeb's goodbye party was a family affair © XPB

But he made time. At that moment, I think I was forgiven.

Following that run around the town of his birth (where he was definitely seen wiping his eyes...) Loeb returned to the service park for a post-event get together. And the noise from inside the Zenith Europe indoor arena in Strasbourg when Loeb waved his final goodbye was frightening.

The Zenith has housed some of the world's biggest rock stars, but few have had so many encores demanded of them. Following the podium celebrations for France's next world rally hero Sebastien Ogier (more of him once we've come to terms with Loeb's departure...), the place was given over to Loeb, his co-driver Daniel Elena and a select few. The select few included their wives, Loeb's daughter Valentine, his friend Dominique Heintz, mentor and former team principal Guy Frequelin, current employers Yves Matton and Frederic Banzet and a few more.

Questions were asked, eulogies made.

After a decade of holding our sport in his hand, this was it. The Zenith holds 12,000 people and it was packed. And I really can't believe there was a dry eye in the house.

This was gratitude for greatness.

This was simple adoration for a man who has quietly created an untouchable record.

The era is over.

Thank you Seb. For everything.

But, just before I go, finally, finally... sorry for that question in New Zealand!