Although T3’s ancestry appeared obvious from a distance, beneath its flatter and squarer-cut bodywork was a redesigned car: all-new monocoque, neater transversal gearbox casing, radiator layout and suspension. In a bid to wed with Michelin’s radial rubber, tech chief Mauro Forghieri had dumped T2’s long, fabricated front rockers and tiny coil springs for tubular wishbones and larger spring/damper units: different wheel movement, travel and steering geometry.
And Reutemann didn’t like it. He reckoned T2 had been better, and he had a point – with or without skirts, T3 was never going to be a ground-effect world-beater. Villeneuve, meanwhile, kept quiet counsel and buried the loud pedal, adopting “fantastic angles” to try to negate the understeer. Barring the German GP, he had used 034 to tough out this lean spell: 10th in Spain, ninth in Sweden, 12th in France – lapped each time – and a broken driveshaft in Britain. He had eventually stopped the rot with a mature third in the rain-hit Austrian GP, and then grabbed a gripless point in Holland. It wasn’t until Italy, however, that he conclusively proved Long Beach had been no fluke.
Finally on the taller tyres and the correct front suspension geometry, Villeneuve qualified second at Monza (Reutemann was 11th). He then strove to keep calm during the delays after Peterson’s accident and Jody Scheckter’s armco-mashing off on the second warm-up lap; as his peers flitted to and fro, Gilles sat quietly in 034 for 45 minutes.
The race didn’t start until gone 6pm. At which point the man on the lights delayed for an age. Villeneuve crept… and snapped, triggering pole man Andretti too. The Ferrari kept the faster Lotus at bay for 36 laps, by which time it had dawned on Andretti that no mistake would be forthcoming – so he scrabbled by at Parabolica. But their efforts counted for nought – bar a title-clinching point for Mario – because both had been penalised a minute for their premature getaways.
