Tmhe reasons for avoiding the extinction of what I feel I can define as the essence of karting itself were as many as the cubic centimeters it was made of and asserted itself with. Its fame and its peculiarities have today the connotations of something as eternal, immortal and unblemished as the most valiant knights of the past. The 100 is so famous and rooted in the history of karting there is no need to even put the word engine between the article the and the number “100”. The first time I heard its roar was during a concomitant minimoto-kart event in a street circuit. The year was 1997 and I was donning the clothes of a mini centaur, having fun with the tiny two-wheeler; but fate would have it that that Sunday was transmuted into the day when I had my close encounter of the third kind. So it was that I was literally thunderstruck when the fury of that engine manifested itself, roaring as it did just a few steps from me on that improvised track on which I saw real racing karts for the very first time. Before then I believed there was nothing better than ones at the amusement park. I was so won over that I immediately started looking at the mini-bikes with a start of disaffection: was it perhaps time to betray the two-wheeler?