Back in the days, when I became who I became, life was simple: fast cars, pretty girls, planes, guns, hunting, crossing deserts, climbing mountains and dreaming of adventure. There was a lax oversight, no significant speed limits, and the forest was deep; while the police were far. "Talent" was not a sickness back then. If we had it, we were encouraged to make the best out of it. No doctors drugged us to stay calm. That's why youth was a roller coaster of unbelievable happiness and tears. And role models, who were they? Jaque Ives Cousteau, T.E. Lawrence of Arabia, Manfred von Richthofen, Vasco da Gama, Richard Feynman, Alexander von Humboldt ... an endless list of characters. Two of them were Nikki Lauda and of course the unforgotten James Hunt. I often came in touch with the Nikki Lauda spirit during my time working for the Volkswagen Group in the Wolfsburg Headquarter. Yesterday, he peacefully passed away, aged 70, after reportedly having struggled with health issues since his nearly fatal accident in 1976, from which he reappeared on the race track after only 42 days recovery. There is of course much more to say about Nikki Lauda, but I will leave this to the people who really can. In memoriam, I took two hours out from reading papers today and watched the movie based on the rivaly between him and James Hunt - back when men were still real men and women were still real women.