As if to underline the relentlessness of progress in Formula One, Japan provided the perfect venue for the last race. It was the end of the 1998 season, of course, but for B & 1-1 Jordan Mugen-Honda, the race was more pertinent to 1999. Everything about the trip pointed to the future.

My first task upon arriving in Japan was to visit the Mugen factory, where most of the work on our engine took place. This factory is the property of Hirotoshi Honda, the son of Soichiro Honda, who was Japan's leading industrialist after the destruction of the country in the Second World War. He was, quite simply, the man who created Honda.

Five per cent of the profits of the Honda company are provided to the Honda research and development company, which employs 7,000 scientists and engineers, some of whom are responsible for the Formula One engine programme. My visit to the factory brought home to me just how massive their resources are and left me in little doubt that, if the company's full weight was engaged to produce a Formula One engine, then Honda could propel Jordan into a championship-winning team in a very short space of time. It was quite an uplifting thought as I headed off in the Bullet Train - which makes British trains look left over from the Industrial Revolution - on my way to the Suzuka circuit, owned, incidentally, by Honda.

The thrust of our team's work in the races since Spa had been to break through from fifth place in the constructors' championship - something Jordan had not managed to do for the previous five seasons. There was a difference of only four points between us and Williams and Benetton, who were lying third and fourth, so closing such a small gap looked tantalisingly easy.

It certainly had us going. The wind tunnel was blowing nonstop throughout the five-week break after the penultimate race, at the Nurburgring, and we tested a new engine at Silverstone that Honda had built specially for Suzuka. Its specific purpose was to impress the Japanese crowd, something which is extremely important to the company.

The reality, though, was that the race in Japan was destined to be very hard. The championship protagonists, McLaren and Ferrari, were putting in a massive effort and so were Williams, my old team, for they were determined not to lose their third place to us. Despite everything that we were doing, scoring heavily was liable to be harder than ever, but the powerful dream of joining the big boys was motivating everyone for the final race.

It was also to be Ralf's final race at Jordan. He was off to swap places with the man who had been drafted into Williams, at my expense, a couple of years before, when he was hailed as the new Michael Schumacher. In his two seasons with Williams, Heinz-Harald Frentzen recorded only one race victory and, while he was undeniably quick on occasion, he never really lived up to the hype that had persuaded Frank Williams to sign him up in the first place.

What all this meant for Suzuka was that in the final round Ralf and Heinz-Harald would both be expected to give their best to defeat the very teams for whom they would be driving the following year - surely a severe test of a driver's loyalty and political integrity if ever there was one.

Ours was the sub-plot to the main event of the weekend, Mika Hakkinen versus Michael Schumacher, but it was no less important to us for that. The showdown between the two contenders really only extended to qualifying, though, because, after knocking the wind out of Mika fairly comprehensively by grabbing pole position, Michael then threw it away by stalling on the grid, albeit after the first start had also been aborted.

Few people can imagine what it must have been like for Mika to have all the build-up to the beginning of the race instantaneously snatched away by an aborted start - twice! For me, in 1996, it had only happened once, and I thought that was cruel enough, but the consolation for Mika this time was that, in the third attempt at getting the race going, his only rival was going to be at the back of the grid.

After all the drama of qualifying, all the pre-race strategic planning, all the effort and money spent on a special engine, tyres and so on, the clash of the titans was now a demonstration run for Mclaren. Michael got to show off his talent for overtaking, but at the same time he knew that his task was now almost impossible. If he passed all the other cars, he would still have to beat Mika by four points and, even for Michael, that was not going to be easy.

As it transpired, it was a forlorn hope, because his tyre burst and ended his race, but he passed quite a few cars in a very short space of time - until he caught up with me. I was having a vital and bitter battle to stay in contention with the Williams cars of Jacques and Heinz-Harald, who were just in front of me, and this was important. I was barely in the points, but not by enough for us to beat Benetton in the constructors' championship. We needed to score two points. Ralf was out with a blown engine, caused by the overheating it suffered in all the re-starts, so everything was down to me.

I had no desire to stop Michael challenging for a third world crown. Contrary to the popular and understandable belief that I have some kind of revenge motive against him for things in the past, I would never want to spoil a showdown for the world championship. If I had backed off to let him past, two things would have been conceded: a point-scoring position, and any opportunity of passing Jacques for the next few laps. In that situation, my loyalty was to B & H Jordan Mugen-Honda, and I could not help the fact that Michael had had to start from the back.

I do not consider it my obligation to stand aside for anybody in a straight race and, as far as I was concerned, I did absolutely nothing wrong. I think Michael realised that, this time, he could have no legitimate gripe, but that didn't stop him. After Ralf had claimed, falsely, that Eddie Jordan had come on to the radio three times to get me to move over for his brother, Michael later suggested that I had a fixation about him - a kind of Schu fetish. I had to make an early pit-stop anyway, and after that he progressed unhindered by me until he went out. I guess it was just not one of his lucky days.

Meanwhile, things were getting pretty exciting for us Jordan lot, because I was running fifth and having one of my best races of the year. The pressure was relentless all race long, with Jacques behind while I was harrying Heinz-Harald for all I was worth. We were going at it hammer and tongs, and he was no doubt mindful that, although we are going to be team-mates next year, he still had to finish off his commitment to the team who no longer wanted him. Racing drivers in the thick of a race, though, are uninfluenced by the colour of their cars. All that matters is being in front of the other guy.

Having deposed Jacques earlier, caught up again with Heinz-Harald and then pressured him for fifty-three laps of one of the toughest circuits in the world, I was not going to pass up an opportunity if one arose, and it came on the last lap. Heinz-Harald thought he had fourth place in the bag and eased off just a little too soon. I saw a gap braking into the final corner of the season and went for it. It was one of my best passes since overtaking Michael Schumacherto lead in Hungary in 1997 and, like that day in Budapest, I'm afraid to say that ITV missed it. In Hungary, they went to a commercial break at the wrong moment and, I suppose with all the hullabaloo about Mika's success (which was entirely justified and I completely endorse), my final fling in Japan went unnoticed - even, in fact, by Eddie Jordan.

He, like most of the team, was alerted to the moment by lan Phillips, Jordan's commercial director, who was glued faithfully to one of the monitors on the pit-wall. When he saw me, all four tyres smoking and half the car on the grass, slithering past Heinz-Harald, he screamed in horror, thinking that Jordan's priceless record move up to fourth in the constructors' championship was about to be dumped into the gravel trap. You see, I didn't actually need to pass Frentzen for us to beat Benetton, but nobody had told me that, so I wasn't going to leave anything to chance! Ah well, you try your best.

Needless to say, the whole Jordan team were as pleased as punch. It was a great way to end what had been a remarkable season - no points halfway through the year transformed into the best season the team has ever had, including that priceless gem in Spa.

The future looks even brighter. 1999 is already on our minds, beckoning like a holiday brochure. The race never ends, you see. Hardly dry from his champagne soaking on the podium, Mika talked of winning back-to-back championships. Then everyone stayed on for two more days of testing in Suzuka to try out the new Bridgestone tyres, designed with the four grooves that 1999 regulations demand. Michael promised to start work immediately on his new Ferrari and the winter testing programme slid seamlessly into gear. It's non-stop: non-stop testing, nonstop dreaming, non-stop travelling, non-stop competition, non-stop pressure, non-stop excitement.

But when do I stop? I have to stop some time. I ended 1998 as a thirty-eight-year-old, the oldest driver on the grid. The sad old man of Formula One? No, not sad, and I don't think age is a factor as much as a love of what you do. Tazio Nuvolari was thirty-eight when he became a full-time car racer, because before that he had raced bikes. He is still regarded as one of the greatest drivers ever.

But time is the factor we all fight against in Formula One, and inevitably time wins. I suppose I should be grateful that I am in a sport that enables me to compete up to what is comparatively a high age limit. If I was a tennis player or footballer, a skier or swimmer, it would be time now for other things, but driving is a skill that requires a blend of touch, reactions, concentration, experience and fitness.

If it was all about reactions, concentration and touch, then I suppose you could liken it to playing the piano. At what age is a concert pianist at his or her height? At what age will Gary Kasparov lose his ability to concentrate? John Glenn has gone back into space, so he obviously can't kick the habit.

In my case, the only criteria for deciding how long I continue racing will be my level of competitiveness and whether I am happy doing it, which all boils down to a single question - can I still win?

In 1998 I won, and I held my own against a teammate fifteen years my junior. Next season, B & H Jordan Mugen-Honda will have better equipment and I believe we will be very competitive. That motivates me. We all worked hard to make 1998 a success from a dismal start and, if we can do it again in 1999, anything could be possible.

Racing has given me everything. I have been to my personal outer limits and found out more about myself than I ever could have believed possible. It has made me stronger and wiser, and it has certainly made me richer. I know who my real friends are and, without them, I might never have achieved a fifth of whatever I have done. If I could have another shot at the world title, I would love it, but I know I don't need that to be happy. I just want to be able to say I have done my best.