On December 29, 2013, 44-year-old Michael Schumacher hit his head on a rock while skiing in the French Alps. He suffered a cerebral hemorrhage and has not appeared in public since. The most revolutionary driver in modern road racing was just a year retired from a career that produced seven championships, plus a record-breaking tally of poles and wins. Last December, by way of homage, we located and photographed an F1 car from Schumacher's first title season at Ferrari, the team he transformed. This tub, F1-2000 chassis number 203, helped Ferrari land its first F1 drivers' championship in 21 years. Meeting it was a privilege.
Engine cover and airbox off, and mesmerizing: The 3.0-liter Tipo 049 V-10 made around 800 hp at 17,500 rpm with the help of pneumatic valve springs, variable intake runners, and external injectors—the runners physically extended to meet the injectors when needed. The valve covers are so low as to be roughly in line with the wheel centers.
It wouldn't be a modern F1 car without a complex steering wheel. Even something as simple as brake balance has multiple controls: The leftmost rotary switch makes gross adjustments, but the buttons atop each handgrip allow for fine-tuning, letting a driver set up the brakes without removing a hand from the wheel.
Above: The rear suspension and carbon-fiber gearbox housing. Bonus points if you can find the rear springs (torsion bars) and dampers (vertical, hiding under the rockers at the back of the gearbox). The dampers are through-rod Sachs units, where the body moves but the central shaft stays put. The inerter, or "third member," bridges the two rockers, and the two anti-roll-bar links poke out of the gearbox top.
In addition to winning the 2000 Canadian Grand Prix, chassis number 203 finished second at that year's Hungarian and U.S. grands prix. It currently lives in the Pacific Northwest, unrestored, spending most of its life in deserved rest. Michael Schumacher may have retreated from public view, but the cars he drove and helped develop serve as a reminder of his chief ideal—that our limits are no less than what we make them.
Sam Smith is a freelance journalist and former executive editor at Road & Track. His writing has appeared in Esquire and the New York Times, and he once drove a Japanese Dajiban around a track at speed while being purposely deafened by a recording of Taylor Swift's "Shake It Off." He lives in Tennessee with his family, a small collection of misfit vehicles, and a spaniel who is scared of squirrels.
