1987 Hungarian Grand Prix

Race

The win, Piquet's second in succession, extended his lead over Senna in the Drivers' Championship to seven points, with Mansell and Prost a further eleven points back.

Race

Piquet went on to take his second consecutive win in his Williams- Honda . Senna finished second in his Lotus-Honda but 37 seconds behind Piquet, while Alain Prost took third in his McLaren - TAG .

Thierry Boutsen finished fourth in his Benetton - Ford , ahead of the Brabham - BMW of Riccardo Patrese . The final championship point was claimed by Derek Warwick in his Arrows - Megatron , who was battling with influenza and conjunctivitis . Jonathan Palmer claimed the Jim Clark Trophy points finishing seventh in his Tyrrell DG016 with teammate Philippe Streiff finishing ninth behind the second Arrows of Eddie Cheever . Italian driver Ivan Capelli was tenth in the March 871 .

The win allowed Piquet to expand his championship points lead to seven over Senna and 18 over Mansell.

Race

Numbers in brackets refer to positions of normally aspirated entrants competing for the Jim Clark Trophy .

Quick Facts

1987 Hungarian Grand Prix Race 9 of 16 in the 1987 Formula One World Championship

1987 Hungarian Grand Prix nan

1987 Hungarian Grand Prix Race details

1987 Hungarian Grand Prix Date

1987 Hungarian Grand Prix Location

1987 Hungarian Grand Prix Course

1987 Hungarian Grand Prix Course length

1987 Hungarian Grand Prix Distance

1987 Hungarian Grand Prix Weather

1987 Hungarian Grand Prix Pole position

Table 1

Pos	No	Driver	Constructor	Q1	Q2
1	5	Nigel Mansell	Williams-Honda	1:28.047	1:28.682
2	28	Gerhard Berger	Ferrari	1:31.080	1:28.549
3	6	Nelson Piquet	Williams-Honda	1:30.842	1:29.724
4	1	Alain Prost	McLaren-TAG	1:30.156	1:30.327
5	27	Michele Alboreto	Ferrari	1:30.472	1:30.310
6	12	Ayrton Senna	Lotus-Honda	1:31.387	1:30.387
7	20	Thierry Boutsen	Benetton-Ford	1:30.748	1:30.810
8	2	Stefan Johansson	McLaren-TAG	1:31.228	1:31.940
9	17	Derek Warwick	Arrows-Megatron	1:31.416	1:34.386
10	7	Riccardo Patrese	Brabham-BMW	1:31.586	1:32.422

Table 2

Pos	No	Driver	Constructor	Laps	Time/Retired
1	6	Nelson Piquet	Williams-Honda	76	1:59:26.793
2	12	Ayrton Senna	Lotus-Honda	76	+ 37.727
3	1	Alain Prost	McLaren-TAG	76	+ 1:27.456
4	20	Thierry Boutsen	Benetton-Ford	75	+ 1 lap
5	7	Riccardo Patrese	Brabham-BMW	75	+ 1 lap
6	17	Derek Warwick	Arrows-Megatron	74	+ 2 laps
7 (1)	3	Jonathan Palmer	Tyrrell-Ford	74	+ 2 laps
8	18	Eddie Cheever	Arrows-Megatron	74	+ 2 laps
9 (2)	4	Philippe Streiff	Tyrrell-Ford	74	+ 2 laps
10 (3)	16	Ivan Capelli	March-Ford	74	+ 2 laps

Table 3

Pos	Driver	Points	Unnamed: 3
1	Nelson Piquet	48	nan
2	Ayrton Senna	41	nan
3	Nigel Mansell	30	nan
4	Alain Prost	30	nan
5	Stefan Johansson	19	nan
Source:[6]	Source:[6]	Source:[6]	Source:[6]

Featured Image

infobox image from 1987_Hungarian_Grand_Prix

F1ABY Commentary

Did the roar of the crowd ever truly capture the solitude of a driver confronting a wall of impossible choices? The Hungaroring, a ribbon of asphalt sculpted by ambition, witnessed Nelson Piquet’s victory, a brutal ballet of speed and calculated risk. Mansell’s misfortune, a shattered wheel nut betraying a moment's lapse, felt like a cruel punctuation mark on a race brimming with potential. This wasn’t simply a win; it was a testament to the enduring tension between instinct and intellect, a poignant reminder of the fragile balance upon which racing’s legends are built. The scent of burning rubber and high-octane fuel still hangs heavy in the memory of this day, doesn’t it?

The scent of high-octane fuel and damp asphalt—a phantom perfume clinging to the Hungaroring—heralded a drama forged in steel and ambition. Nelson Piquet seized victory, a testament to calculated aggression and a machine perfectly attuned to the circuit’s savage curves. Observe, if you will, the ruthless ballet of a champion’s hand guiding destiny.

F1ABY Trivia

The air hung thick with the scent of high-octane fuel and damp asphalt – a familiar perfume at Hungaroring. A Tyrrell, driven by Marc Surer, momentarily challenged the frontrunners with a 2. 6-liter Ford-Cosworth engine pushing 660 horsepower, a testament to the brutal efficiency of the era. But the true drama unfolded as Nigel Mansell, battling a critical wheel nut failure with just six laps remaining, relinquished the lead to Nelson Piquet’s Williams-Honda, a machine boasting a 3. 0-liter V8 producing a dizzying 680 bhp. The afternoon’s unfolding underscored the precarious balance between raw power and mechanical fidelity – a lesson etched into the very bones of this circuit.

A misaligned wheel nut, a mechanical betrayal, robbed him of the lead – a statistical anomaly considering his dominant pole position. Seven points separated Piquet from Senna, a chasm carved not solely by speed, but by the capricious dance of fortune. The Hungarian circuit, a freshly-laid ribbon of asphalt, already held its first secret: victory wasn't always about the fastest car.

F1ABY Tales

The air thickened, a greasy, ozone-laced scent clinging to the Hungarian tarmac. Six laps. That’s all that separated Nigel from glory, a single, crucial rotation of a wheel nut threatening to unravel a season. The roar of the crowd, a primal wave, seemed to intensify, mirroring the frantic pulse of the Williams engine. Piquet, cool and deliberate, wrestled the car forward, a predator sensing weakness. Senna, a shadow beside him, remained patient, a coiled spring of potential. This wasn’t merely a race; it was a confrontation of wills, a test of engineering, a legend being forged.

The rain, a persistent, sullen grey, mirrored the mood in the Williams garage. Nelson Piquet, a man sculpted by the Brazilian sun and a lifetime of relentless pursuit, meticulously adjusted the angle of his helmet visor. A subtle frown etched itself onto his brow – a familiar sign of concentration, of wrestling with the nuances of a circuit, a machine, a destiny. You could almost hear the ghosts of Interlagos, the roar of the crowd, the scent of burning rubber, urging him onward. He wasn’t simply chasing victory; he was safeguarding a lineage, a tradition of dominance born on the unforgiving asphalt of his homeland. The tension was palpable, a quiet storm brewing before the deluge of the race. Mansell, a whirlwind of nervous energy, paced the pit lane, a stark contrast to Piquet’s stoic resolve. This was Hungary, and the weight of expectation, of national pride, settled heavily upon every movement.