A life as a follow-up to the most beautiful raid rallies in history and the world. 27 editions of the Dakar, from 1991 to 2017. With the characters who have made this world legendary by making all the fans dream through the deserts of Africa, including Russia, China, South America. Pilots and mechanics, team managers and teams, between anecdotes and adventures of life experienced in first person during rallies or reconnaissance.
A funny behind-the-scenes experience, with many adventures from the inside, traveling by car, truck and even scooter, on the tracks of Morocco with the Atlas Rally.
The friendship with Clay Regazzoni, Renè Metge, Stephane Peterhansel, Fabrizio Meoni, Jutta Kleinschmidt, Heinz Kinigadner, Giacomo Vismara, Ciro De Petri: their stories and clippings of past races between road books, departures at dawn, tortellini and nights in kitchen waiting for the truck balai.
A story punctuated by the letters of the alphabet to allow the reader to find and give a common thread to all the stories they go through, like a ship in a sea of ??sand, the years, the different competitions, the traces left by the pilots, and not only from them.
A story that starts from the typewriter when the computers and the internet still did not exist and the articles were dictated on the phone, while the rolls crossed the world in someone's backpack to get, perhaps, on the tables of the editorial staff.
Stories extraordinary, funny, sad, unjust, adrenaline, seen through the eyes of the journalist who has never considered this a job, but a passion. Cultivated since childhood and then lived in its raw reality, made of pain, suffering but also friendship and solidarity between tents and sleeping bags, sandstorms and carpets on which to eat and sleep, with bivouacs flying away or burning or, again, that yield under the weight of the rain. Continue departures, hourly checks, airports. Famous drivers and less, lords of the steering wheel and gentlemen at the bivouac, characters, friends and companions of adventure.
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Nella maggior parte dei casi, giornalisti e reporter non vanno mai oltre il mestiere, la scelta delle parole più adeguate, lo scatto a fuoco, pulito, ben centrato, come prevede il manuale. Poi ci sono quegli altri, pochi, a cui non bastano gli occhi, né i denti, né la pelle che li riveste. Una razza a parte. Gente con la terra sotto le unghie e la rabbia nel cuore. Uomini e donne che non raccontano mai per sentito dire, ma solo perché c’erano, testimoni nella mischia di vivere. Elisabetta Caracciolo è di quest’ultima specie; un’attitudine opposta ai decaloghi e all’istinto di conservazione, sempre in prima persona, al di qua della linea di sicurezza, aderendo alle cose, coi nervi scoperti come fili elettrici in una tempesta. I rally. I raid. La Parigi Dakar, o come diavolo volete chiamarla. Un maledetto tritacarne. Un amore che non si spiega. Come questo libro, che profuma di sabbia e di giorni senza dio, di città vuote e bellissime, e camere d’ospedale. Perché così è, così dev’essere. Di autentica meraviglia e puro dolore. (Mark LoPresti)
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