It is generally agreed in the world of automobile racing
that Formula 1 is the epitome of the sport.
All you have to do is ask someone from Europe. They would say “You can’t be serious” when
trying to compare any other auto racing from any other country, especially if
you have the audacity to suggest Indy Car or NASCAR is right up there. Setting aside the fact that NASCAR has the
rest of auto racing in its rear view mirror when it comes to being a commercial
success, most serious students of the sport would agree Formula 1 is the cream
of the crop.
Being a fan of almost any sport you can name I always, at
least casually, followed most of them, if for no other reason than to hold my
own in discussions among other sports enthusiasts gathered around the
proverbial water cooler. I pretty much
cruised through life that way until my son and his friends started talking gear-head
talk around me and I began to assimilate some knowledge of auto racing. My horizons were being broadened beyond the
Indianapolis 500 every Memorial Day.
My son began dabbling in the sport when he became close
friends with a boy whose family had been involved in Formula 1 at the ownership
level and had been grooming him as a driver.
Another boy, staying with us at the time, was from England and had been
involved in the sport since diapers. In
England, Formula 1 ranks right up there with the Queen and soccer in
popularity.
The chance to view a race was but a dream until one day a
race team asked me to drive their transporter to a couple of races. The owner of the team had made a fortune
building chassis for flat screen TV’s. The
team had 2 Atlantic series race cars (a couple of notches below an Indy car)
that were driven by his son. A state of
the art truck and trailer transported the cars, spare tires and all other parts
and supplies to race sites for events the owner would fly in for. The 2 races we would be going to on this trip
were Milwaukee and then Montreal. Lo and
behold the Montreal event was part of a Formula 1 race week.
The Atlantic race in Milwaukee was the prelude to an Indy
car race that followed the Indy 500 on the race schedule. I got to view the Indy scene up close and
personal. We were sharing garage space
and track time with Penske, Newman-Haas, Fittipaldi, Foyt and all the stars I
had seen on television the week before.
Then it was on to Montreal.
The race track in Montreal has the regal sounding name of
Circuit Gilles Villeneuve. It is on a
manmade island in the St. Laurence River named ILL Notre Dame. We arrived early and secured a prime parking
spot for our rig on the back stretch of the track. After a couple of days of testing we got word
that the Formula 1 teams had arrived late one afternoon.
About mid-morning the following day all of us on the back
stretch heard it. There are many things
that add to the aura of Formula 1 racing.
One is most certainly the sound.
If you haven’t heard it the best way I can describe it is to imagine
what a 1,000 horse power sewing machine would sound like. NASCAR has its own man-thing, testosterone,
gnarly sound that gets a red necks blood boiling. Indy cars are a higher pitch whine. But there is nothing like the off-the-charts,
unbelievable rpm sound of a Formula 1 car.
Off in the distance the first one cranked up. The heads of everyone in our area turned
towards the track. Everyone and I mean
everyone, dropped what they were doing and made their way over to the fence
bordering the track. Soon the first car
went by, then another and another. Each
car would flow smoothly through each turn, seemingly without lifting. We watched in silent awe during their brief
practice session. The sound of multiple
cars on the track added to the drama.
The next day we moved into the pit area to run our race and set
up in the same area as the Formula 1 teams.
We were to be the preliminary race for the main event that
afternoon. This was my first up close
look at the best of the best. Their “pits”
looked like a board room. They were
spotless with nothing out of place. Every
move was precision. The crew members were
dressed as if outfitted by GQ Magazine.
They knew they were the best and acted like it. There was a very businesslike atmosphere with
an indifference to those not in their circle that is in stark contrasts to the
fan-friendly approach of American auto racing.
I watched with great excitement as we finished third in our
race but I must admit the real thrill was rubbing elbows with the elite of the sport.
The next morning, before we began our long drive back to
California, I walked over to the pit area for one last look. There was not a trace of evidence they had
even been there. Cars, drivers, crew
members, owners and fans alike were somewhere over the Atlantic on flights back
to the Continent.
PS: The Circuit
Gilles Villeneuve was the last track where both Formula 1 and Indy style cars
ran. The Formula 1 times were some 5 seconds
faster on the 2.7 mile course. In
fairness to the Indy cars, they are considerably heavier and there are
aerodynamic differences.
