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The story of an unlikely encounter between Ayrton Senna and two young Frenchmen, in a small hotel in Belgium.

• Autograph from Ayrton Senna to a young Frenchman, the driver used the fan's ticket for the Spa-Francorchamps Formula 1 race.
• In French.
• 9.5 cm x 9 cm.
• Belgium, August 1992.
• Perfect state of preservation.
• One-of-a-kind.

It comes with a 5-page letter in French from the fan, translated here:

Allow me to introduce myself: Stéphane B., born in October 1967, from Coulommiers. I am a cook at a college in Alençon, married for 15 years and father of two children, a 16-year-old daughter and a son who will soon turn 12.

In early 1992, I met my cousin Eric, nicknamed Looping (see the American series The All Risk Agency to understand), a somewhat crazy character who was also passionate about motorsports (F1, of course). He also had a beautiful Suzuki 1100 GSxr motorcycle with white and orange-red paint in Marlboro colors.

That day, I told him how much I wanted to share our weekend at Spa with him, a circuit he occasionally visited to watch the F1 Grand Prix that takes place there every year at the end of the year. I should also mention that he was the proud owner of a Yamaha 1200 XJB, a bike that gave me chills and an adrenaline rush whenever I rode it for miles just for fun. Ah, youth!

When the GP (Grand Prix) was approaching, Looping called me to ask if my desire was still relevant, and I answered affirmatively. Good timing.

Without GPS back then, I let my cousin handle the steering wheel of my 1989 Ford Fiesta 1.4 CLP with a double-barrel carburetor, a powerful carburetor pump.

I don't remember the route very well anymore, we just passed through Ermenonville la mer de sable.

We arrived at the Franco-Belgian border and decided to buy our tickets there. A ticket office was set up as soon as we crossed into Belgium. This saved us from the ticket office rush at the circuit.

A hard blow, the ticket price: 600 francs, and that was only for the GP day. Eric said the price had increased significantly compared to the last time he had gone. With our precious ticket in hand, we arrived near the circuit, not knowing what we would find. We were circling the sector and, to our "great despair," we found spectators reselling tickets for 600 francs, but for both days of the race... The reason for this "promotion" was that they had bought these tickets a month earlier and were waiting to go to bed to rest.

After visiting the area around the circuit, we considered the possibility of finding a hotel for the night. We had brought our sleeping bags to sleep in the car on March 1st, but prices might be low in the Belgian villages.

And we set off on an adventure in the early afternoon, skipping several meals. But, obviously, at such an event, the rooms are booked in advance.

We entered a new village, Malmedy...

I don't remember the hotel-restaurant very well, and we were already starting to leave when suddenly the boss, I think, offered us a room reserved for apprentices for the night for a small amount (at least a reasonable price). Okay, it works, it's that or a night of partying!!

An employee comes to pick us up, takes us to our room, and during the conversation, he realizes that Ayrton Senna had come to dinner at their place, at their restaurant, the night before.

This news didn't bother me, unlike my cousin who immediately asked him, without really believing it, to let us know if he happened to return.

With our weekend budget having taken a hit between fuel prices, entrance tickets, and the hotel room, we decided to eat out in town. After a pizza and a beer, we returned to the hotel; the next day would be busy, and we needed to rest.

Suddenly someone knocks on the door. Hey, were we making too much noise? No! It's just the afternoon employee who came to tell us that Senna was back at the restaurant.

Looping, wearing a sweatshirt with the colors of his motorcycle. We both went down "armed" with our GP tickets, determined to get his autograph.

There were Ayrton Senna, a woman (quite beautiful), and a person accompanying them.

The end of dinner was approaching. Time to ask an employee for a pen and a highlighter, essential materials for the precious autograph. In Eric's eyes, the champion arrives, and without any shame we ask him to sign our respective tickets and, for Looping, a large autograph in indelible marker on a sweatshirt that he promised he would never wash again. A sacred relic!!

He said "Good Luck" in English (out of emotion, certainly) to Ayrton Senna, something that, according to my cousin, still resonates, don't tell anyone (a superstition story?).

He leaves us being followed by this woman and, of course, the third person.

Seeing them leave through the window, we watched him depart in a large group aboard a gray Honda NX.

Of course, my cousin was over the moon. We returned to our room, managed to fall asleep despite some commotion, and after a good night's sleep, we ate in the dining room, with breakfast included in our room rate.

Early departure (and in good spirits) to Spa and its legendary circuit for this race that promised to be unique. Several practice runs before the actual race. I admit that once the GP started, it was very impressive! The speed of the cars, the roar of the engines, that feeling of power that emerges, that's it! GP result: first victory for a certain Michael Schumacher, and as for our champion, he added 2 points in the process.

End of the crazy weekend and return to Alençon via Coulommiers to drop off my cousin. And on the way back, Balaban, I abused my exhaust. For the first time, several hundred kilometers controlling the acceleration just to spare our ears.

Except in tunnels, I accelerate like a pro, of course...

Back to work on Monday morning, my eyes glistening, not tired, but very proud and impatient to talk about my stay in Belgium and this meeting with Ayrton Senna.

My colleagues aren't jealous, but envious. Back then, Senna wasn't just a driver, he was THE driver that everyone knew.

Now, when I tell this story, few people (especially young people) know about it. It's obvious that this stay in Belgium will remain in my memory for as long as my neurons allow.

On May 1st, 1994, a page of F1 history was turned. Ayrton Senna was brutally killed. With a certain emotion, I remember this man who seemed accessible, simple, even modest to us. I think his attitude managed to elevate him to the height of a god in Brazil, his homeland.

This ticket, this very ticket, has been kept in an album for 28 years, among other tickets from amusement parks and also from car and motorcycle races.

I don't know why I'm selling this autograph; money isn't my main motivation, but I think it would make someone very happy to give it to a true enthusiast who will know how to highlight and honor this great pilot.

Everything I write is true. It was the story of an unlikely encounter with Ayrton Senna.

Ayrton Senna (1960-1994) was a three-time Formula 1 world champion, became a national hero, and gave a country the possibility to dream. It's impossible to discuss the great figures of Brazilian culture without mentioning Ayrton Senna. The São Paulo native, who began his career young in kart racing, conquered the world with his driving skills, but above all, with his values: perseverance, dedication, and a love of victory.

Authentic Ayrton Senna autographs, in perfect condition and well-documented, are very rare. Only one or two appear on the market each year. An extensive letter, with many interesting details about Senna and this improbable encounter, comes with this exceptional piece.