Stuart Codling The Formula 1 Drive To Survive Unofficial Companion - The Stars - Strategy - Technology
Stuart Codling The Formula 1 Drive To Survive Unofficial Companion - The Stars - Strategy - Technology
DRIVE TO SURVIVE
THE UNOFFICIAL COMPANION
THE STARS,
STRATEGY,
TECHNOLOGY,
AND HISTORY OF F1
Stuart Codling
CONTENTS
INDEX
PHOTO CREDITS
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Chapter 1
“Freddo-gate”
Gone are the days when the team principal’s name was above the door as owner rather
than employee. But the stakes are just as high, the commitment and chemistry
similarly important. Take, for example, McLaren’s journey in the seasons covered by
the Drive to Survive cameras.
McLaren had dispensed with the traditional team principal role in favor of a race
director reporting to a CEO who, in turn, reported to McLaren Group chairman and CEO
Ron Dennis—himself formerly the team principal. There were too many leaders. By the
time the DTS cameras were rolling, Dennis had been ousted in a boardroom coup and
tension simmered throughout the organization. In “Trouble at the Top” (S1:E5),
Dennis’s replacement, American entrepreneur Zak Brown, is seen struggling to get a
grip on the chaos—and sporting director Eric Boullier ultimately takes the fall.
The Daily Mail, a British newspaper, was a keen agitator against Boullier and was
the source of the scoop that became known as “Freddo-gate,” when disgruntled
McLaren employees revealed that inexpensive chocolates were part of an informal
incentive scheme presided over by an out-of-touch management. Mail journalist
Jonathan McEvoy is the unnamed voice in the press conference featured in the
episode, pressing Boullier on whether he ought to quit.
Another restructuring followed in which Brown headhunted the well-regarded
Andreas Seidl from Porsche to act as team principal in a more conventional
management system with “straight lines” of reporting, as Seidl put it. He quickly won
back the dressing room: You can see how he leads from the front in later seasons,
such as staying on in Melbourne to ensure the safe return of his stricken crew when
the pandemic hits at the beginning of season 3, to revving up the entire squad when
they pose for a team photo in the wake of Daniel Ricciardo’s victory at Monza in
season 4.
Frenchman Eric Boullier, McLaren F1’s racing director, paid the
price for the team’s struggles in 2017.
American Zak Brown, McLaren executive director, left, and
Andreas Seidl, McLaren team principal, on the grid at the 2022
Spanish Grand Prix have made great strides in retooling McLaren
F1 to its long standing as a team that could, on any given day,
bring home a race win. McLaren returned to the use of Mercedes
engine power, and its driver lineup balances hot young talent
with proven race winners.
While the team principal wields executive power, the team manager—
sometimes called the sporting director—has a less public-facing, but no less
critical, role in the day-to-day running of the organization. Between races
they’re responsible for all the logistics of getting the cars, their components,
all the team gear, and the team itself around the world to the various races—
a job that’s now even more of a tangle as the number of events grows and
more inventory needs to go by sea freight for environmental reasons.
Paperwork is also the curse of the team manager, whether that’s ensuring
team equipment can cross borders without being confiscated or hit with
import-export duties, or even applying for drivers’ “superlicenses.”
Trackside, the team manager is responsible for the operational well-
being of the organization. Fractures can develop between individuals when
they’re away from home, traveling, and working together under pressure.
The team manager also has to carry the sport’s regulations around in
their head. F1’s procedural rules can be arcane and the team manager needs
to ensure his organization is compliant at all times—and sometimes remind
the stewards and race director what the rules are. Through the 2021 season,
more radio traffic between the teams and the FIA was broadcast, bringing
the voices of these generally unsung individuals to the fore. Indeed, Red
Bull sporting director Jonathan Wheatley became pivotal in the soap opera
of the championship run-in, aggressively lobbying the race director in Saudi
Arabia and Abu Dhabi.
There’s very little churn of team managers; the majority have been in
racing for years and worked their way up. Wheatley and his counterpart at
Mercedes, Ron Meadows, are typical in that they began their motorsport
lives as mechanics. Wheatley was chief mechanic at what is now Alpine
before he became team manager at Red Bull in 2006; Meadows has been at
Mercedes since their previous incarnation as British American Racing and
had a role in building and kitting out the factory.
“Which of us is going to win today” might be the topic of
conversation among Mercedes GP Team Manager Ron Meadows (left) and
Jonathan Wheatley, Red Bull Racing sporting director, at the 2022
British Grand Prix. It turns out neither got to drink the champagne
that day as Carlos Sainz Jr. drove his Ferrari home to a team win
and his first F1 victory.
Among the most successful of all modern-times Team Supremos is Jean
Todt, seen here with wife, actress Michelle Yeoh. He orchestrated
Michael Schumacher’s championship years with Ferrari and spent over
a decade as FIA president.
Technical Director
In the very distant past, a single person could design pretty much every
aspect of an F1 car. Top-level motor racing is now so sophisticated, high-
tech, and intricately detailed that no individual could possibly have the time
to draw every component. Nevertheless the buck has to stop somewhere
and that’s why the technical director earns the big bucks.
This role blends engineering vision with hands-on people management.
The technical director sets the engineering philosophy and is responsible for
ensuring their (often vast) team of designers and aerodynamicists deliver on
all the performance and weight targets.
Most technical directors come from an aerodynamics background and
several have been pivotal in major advances over the past three decades.
Mercedes’s Mike Elliott, for example, was the team’s head of aerodynamics
until he stepped up when his predecessor, James Allison, moved to the chief
technical officer role. Allison himself is a former aero man, and at Ferrari
he pioneered the vital but unsung role of trackside aerodynamicist, now a
vital link in the chain between track and factory, ratifying whether
simulation work is reflected in real-life lap times.
Perhaps the most famous F1 engineering guru is Red Bull’s Adrian
Newey, whose background includes stints as both an aerodynamicist and a
race engineer. This has given him an unparalleled vision for a car’s
complete performance. It’s a measure of how valuable he is to the team that
whenever he undergoes one of his periodic phases of being disenchanted
with F1 (he hates tight rules that stifle creativity), Red Bull allows him to
step away and do something else, whether that is getting involved with
America’s Cup yachts or collaborating with Aston Martin on the design of
the Valkyrie road car.
In Formula 1 there’s always time for the all-important
international media coverage. Here Jan Monchaux, technical director
of Alfa Romeo F1 Team Orlen, talks to F1 TV’s Will Buxton around
the team’s current F1 machine at the 2022 Saudi Arabian Grand Prix.
Adrian Newey (left) is among the greatest ever Grand Prix race car
designers, thus more than qualified to serve as Red Bull Racing’s
chief technical officer.
F1 Figures
Gordon Murray
The superstar designer of the 1970s and 1980s, South African engineer Gordon Murray
was a true maverick: instinctive, creative, and capable of prodigious quantities of work.
His innovations weren’t always successful (his attempt to get rid of radiators in favor
of surface-mounted heat exchangers on the 1978 Brabham BT46 didn’t work out), but
his work was widely copied. He’s rightly famous for the controversial “fan car,” which
generated downforce through suction, and for the beautiful championship-winning
Brabham BT52—which he designed from scratch, almost singlehandedly, in six weeks
when a last-minute rule change scuppered his plans for the season. Murray also had a
hand in the McLaren MP4/4, which won fifteen of sixteen races in 1988.
Car designer and technical director extraordinaire Gordon Murray
debriefs with Argentine ace Carlos Reutemann aboard his Brabham
F1 machine at the Germany Grand Prix of 1973.
Head of Engineering
When Drive to Survive takes you into the inner sanctum of a team’s
trackside operations, either in the formal postsession debriefs or casual
backstage chats, among the calmer voices you’ll hear will be those of the
heads of engineering. When misfortune strikes on the track and the camera
cuts to the inevitable shot of the team principal with their head in their
hands, the head of engineering will be one of the figures in the background
with their eyes still focused on the monitors. This job requires focus, mental
discipline, and often a PhD.
Sitting below the technical director, the head of engineering is
responsible for managing all the disparate on-site engineering activities—
aerodynamics, tires, chassis, electronics—to maximize the car’s
performance. Back at the factory they project-manage development,
managing the different departments such as vehicle science and vehicle
performance. Some larger teams split the trackside and factory-based
functions between two people.
Since this role blends hard-edged academia with soft skills such as
people management, its practitioners tend to stay in place for a long time.
Mercedes’s performance director, Mark Ellis, spent six years at the team in
their previous incarnation at BAR-Honda and then returned in 2014 after a
six-year stint at Red Bull; the team’s head of trackside engineering, Andrew
Shovlin, joined BAR in 1999 and race-engineered Jenson Button. Aston
Martin’s Tom McCullough joined the team under their previous owner in
2014 as head of trackside engineering, a role that has now become
performance director as the team expands through fresh investment.
As a smaller team, Haas expect head of engineering Ayao Komatsu to
cover both trackside and factory roles. He is a regular sight on DTS by
virtue of his proximity to combustible team principal Guenther Steiner.
Red Bull Racing’s Chief Engineer, Car Engineering, Jonathan
Wheatley turns away from his many video monitors and computer
screens to follow the pit action behind him at the 2022 Grand Prix
dell‘Emelia-Romagna at Imola. It turned out to be a great day for
Red Bull, with team drivers Verstappen and Perez finishing 1–2.
Just prior to the beginning of a race, the person a driver may
spend the most time talking with is his race engineer. Here Haas F1
Team Race Engineer Ayao Komatsu (left) confers with team driver
Kevin Magnussen just prior to the start of the 2019 Russian Grand
Prix; at times both “Mags” and the Haas machine have shown promise
with a handful of credible finishes, yet much work remains to
achieve the podium finishes and race wins they both desire.
An integral part of each driver’s support system is their race engineer, who
acts as the conduit between the driver and the team’s operational staff. Like
the physiotherapist (or physio), the race engineer has an intensely personal
relationship with the driver. It’s another job that intertwines technical
expertise with soft skills: a key role of the job is to communicate with the
driver, understand what they’re saying about the behavior of the car, and
then find practical means of adjusting the car to improve it.
During races the engineer will generally be the driver’s sole point of
communication with the team, since it’s considered best practice not to have
many voices competing for the driver’s ear while they’re at work. Viewers
will therefore be familiar with some key voices, if not their faces: the likes
of Peter Bonnington (Lewis Hamilton) and Giampero Lambiase (Max
Verstappen), for example.
There are exceptions to these rules. Often the team principal will radio
the driver after the checkered flag to congratulate or commiserate. At
Mercedes, sometimes chief strategist James Vowles will speak, generally to
apologize to Hamilton if there’s been a strategic blunder (the team knows
the best way to handle Lewis is to let him blow off some steam and move
on), or to emphasize to the other driver the gravity of a team order
(“Valtteri, it’s James” has become a social media meme, referring to
Hamilton’s sometimes recalcitrant former teammate Valtteri Bottas). During
the 2020 season Bottas requested more vocal support from Merc team
principal Toto Wolff, which is why Wolff stepped up his on-track
communications.
And here’s another area where the engineer’s role overlaps with that of
the physio: driver psychology. They’re dealing with gifted individuals in
high-stress situations, which is why the tone of their radio messages sounds
much like that of an airline pilot addressing their passengers. If a driver is
struggling to extract the maximum from the car, changing their race
engineer is one lever the team management can pull. It goes unmentioned in
“Growing Pains” (S4: E7), where Alpine driver Esteban Ocon’s
performance comes under scrutiny, but one of the changes that contributed
to his turnaround in 2021 was the arrival of new race and performance
engineers Josh Peckett and Stuart Barlow. His previous engineer, Mark
Slade, had worked with world champions Mika Häkkinen and Kimi
Räikkönen in the past, but it appeared this relationship with Ocon didn’t gel
in the same way.
Where the race engineer fine-tunes the relationship between car and driver,
with a side order of psychology, the physiotherapist, or physio, tunes up the
driver’s body—also with a bit of mind management on the side. Not for
nothing do drivers often take their physio with them when they move
teams: Like the relationship with the race engineer, this is a bond based on
trust and mutual understanding, and on enabling the driver to access their
own highest possible performance.
While many physios operating within F1 work for the Hintsa
Performance company, some are sole operators and many have an eclectic
history: Alexander Albon’s performance coach Patrick Harding previously
worked with the British canoeing squad at the Summer Olympics and trains
the boxer Michael Conlan. Pyry Salmela, Pierre Gasly’s Hintsa
Performance physio, is a former ice hockey player.
Drive to Survive flourishes on drama and tension, so generally the
physios appear in speaking roles when putting drivers through abstruse and
painful-looking training processes or acting as part-time psychotherapist
when times are hard. It wasn’t always so: When Esteban Ocon first comes
into focus in S1:E6, it suits the filmmakers to shoot him as a lone operator
and outsider, training by himself. Later episodes embrace the relationships.
There’s a slightly awkward early meeting between Yuki Tsunoda and his
performance coach Noel Carroll in a pub restaurant, in which Tsunoda is
confused by his dish (the British staple of fish and chips with mushy peas);
in the same episode (S4: E7), he’s made to move house and go on a diet.
As Valtteri Bottas comes under pressure for his Mercedes seat by
George Russell in 2021 (S4: E8), the scenes with physio Antti Vierula are
as revealing as those with Valtteri’s girlfriend, the cyclist Tiffany Cromwell.
Here Vierula is not just a coach with a list of performance targets, he’s
effectively a driver whisperer as his charge’s self-confidence crumbles
before his eyes.
image
Serial World Champion Lewis Hamilton liberally credits his
trainer/physiotherapist and all-around support system Angela Cullen
for his unparalleled physical condition and success. Other than
when he’s in the car, you won’t see these two more than a few feet
apart at the racetrack.
image
Many have speculated that Angela Cullen and Lewis Hamilton share a
romantic relationship, but it’s simply not true and both have
become weary of this unfounded speculation. Cullen is quite happily
married to her professional cyclist husband and they are the
parents of three children. Technically she is Hamilton’s
physiotherapist, but personal manager and “right arm” might be
better descriptions as she is also in charge of Hamilton’s diet,
sleeping habits, mental training, and travel arrangements.
F1 Figures
Aki Hintsa
image
Physiotherapists, personal managers, and doctors are extremely
important members of any F1 team. Aki Hintsa, McLaren team
doctor (right) gives a few last prerace tips to 2009 F1 champion
Jenson Button, at the 2011 Indian Grand Prix.
F1 Figures
It’s difficult to watch later series of DTS and not reach the conclusion that Toto Wolff
lives rent-free in Christian Horner’s head. The beef is deeply personal and cuts through
the similarities between them: Both tried their hands at race driving before recognizing
their talents lay elsewhere. Their lives diverged: Wolff going into the world of high
finance before reentering motorsport as an investor/manager, Horner building his own
race team.
While later episodes of S4 permit members of the Mercedes camp to suggest
Horner’s ire is motivated purely by jealousy of Wolff’s success, it’s more subtle than
that. In S4: E1, Horner alludes to Wolff being “parachuted in” to a team that was already
successful.
There’s a compelling nugget of truth here. When Horner was recruited by Red Bull
magnate Dietrich Mateschitz to run his team in 2005, Horner’s Arden Racing
organization were serial championship winners in F3000 (the precursor to today’s
Formula 2). Red Bull Racing wasn’t a startup but an acquisition of a team that hadn’t
won anything in years and that required massive cultural change. Horner wasn’t only
responsible for poaching tech guru Adrian Newey from McLaren, he also retooled the
team’s culture, transforming them into the rabidly competitive fighting force that won
four consecutive titles between 2010 and 2013.
Mercedes’ team had a troubled history. Once owned by Honda, who pulled out of F1
during the global financial crisis of 2008, they had been forced to downsize and
required greater investment than Mercedes anticipated. The board got nervous, and in
early 2013 appointed Wolff and triple world champion Niki Lauda over the head of
team principal Ross Brawn, who duly left. In 2014 the new hybrid power unit rules and
Mercedes became dominant, largely due to Brawn’s decision to invest early in the new
engine technology.
Thus it’s possible to argue Wolff inherited what was in effect a turn-key winning
operation—although he’s done a very good job of running it ever since . . .
image
It’s rare you’ll see these two guys sitting next to each other
at an official F1 press conference smiling and happy. Mercedes
AMG Team Principal Toto Wolff (left) and his Red Bull
counterpart Christian Horner (right) must, at some level, have
certain respect for what the other has accomplished, yet it’s
always clear these guys just don’t really like each other, as
they are constantly verbally sparring and berating the other’s
opinion.
F1 Figures
Drivers come and go and so to do key team personnel, especially at teams that answer
to global corporations. Cyril Abiteboul, Christian Horner’s nemesis in early seasons of
DTS (Horner used to call him “Flav’s tea boy” because Cyril came to F1 as an aide and
paperwork wrangler to former Renault boss Flavio Briatore), frequently took a frontline
role in Drive to Survive as the Renault team principal but was nowhere to be seen in
season 4.
The team has had many owners and identities. Now under Renault ownership for a
second time, they were run almost into the ground by their previous owners and
needed more investment and more time to deliver on ambitions set out by the Renault
board. As the figurehead, Abiteboul paid the political price and departed between the
2020 and 2021 seasons amid a wider shake-up of the Renault board and a rebranding
of the team as Alpine (the car company’s sporting subbrand).
The corporate restructure installed Laurent Rossi as president, Davide Brivio as
sporting director, and former FIA man Marcin Budkowski as executive director. As an
Abiteboul hire, Budkowski was always going to be out on a limb, and so it came to
pass as he left in January 2022. You can read the tea leaves in S4: E7 when Laurent
Rossi confidently introduces himself as the man holding the reins. Later in the episode,
as Rossi and Brivio discuss Esteban Ocon’s struggles, Budkowski is looking over from
an adjoining table, excluded from the conversation. And, of course, it’s Rossi who goes
to the podium in Hungary to accept the trophy for winning constructor.
image
RenaultSport’s Cyril Abiteboul (left) with Gil DeFerran and Red
Bull’s Christian Horner at a Red Bull post-qualifying press
conference. Abiteboul’s days as a Red Bull engine provider were
numbered as Horner was unhappy with the recent performance of
the Renault engines, and also Renault’s announcement of its
intent to reenter F1 as a full factory team.
image
“Sometimes you win the race, and other times the race wins you.” An
unusual set of circumstances put young Alpine F1 talent Esteban
Ocon atop the winner’s podium, champagne bottle at the ready, as
the seemingly unlikely winner of the 2021 Hungarian Grand Prix.
Chapter 2
HIGH-SPEED ART
A HISTORY OF F1 IN 20 CARS
State-of-the-art machinery is one of Formula 1’s biggest draws: F1
offers the fastest, loudest, most technically advanced cars on the
planet. Throughout F1’s history, these cars have shaped the world
and been shaped by it. Gasoline was still rationed in the UK when
Britain hosted the first world championship grand prix in 1950,
none of the cars had seat belts (it was believed to be better to be
thrown out of the car in a crash rather than be stuck in the
wreckage), and the commercial ecosystem of motor racing was
primitive.
In this chapter we’ll trace F1’s journey to becoming one of the
world’s biggest television spectacles, and a multibillion-dollar
business, by looking at a selection of these high-speed objects of
automotive art. All of them were beautifully crafted to excel in
their particular era, and all of them reflect the changing face of F1
and its inhabitants: manufacturers coming and going, tremendous
feats of individual engineering ingenuity, and the making of heroes.
Ferrari weathered disappointing results in 2020 and 2021 while
developing their 2022 car. Payback came when that car, the F1-75,
proved competitive straightaway.
Alfa Romeo 158
As Europe rebuilt in the aftermath of World War II, motor racing began
again, mostly with prewar cars that had escaped being melted down for
munitions. The 158 dated back to 1936, first proposed by Enzo Ferrari
when he was running Alfa Romeo’s racing team. After the Italian surrender
in 1943, the 158s were hidden from occupying forces so carefully that,
come peacetime, it took months to locate them again. At least two had been
concealed in a cheese factory.
To encourage as many entrants as possible, Europe’s racing clubs
agreed on shaping the technical rules of racing’s top category (Formula A,
later renamed Formula 1) around a format that allowed for supercharged
1.5-liter engines like those in the 158s as well as larger, unsupercharged
engines. But Alfa almost missed out on competing in the inaugural world
championship of 1950—it had pulled out of racing a year earlier after
principal drivers Achille Varzi and Jean-Pierre Wimille were killed in
accidents and third driver Count Carlo Felice Trossi, a chain smoker, died
of cancer.
The prospect of the new world championship spurred Alfa’s Italian
dealer network to contribute to a sponsorship fund, which amassed 200
million lire, enough to pay for ongoing development and employ the best
drivers of the day. Alfa Romeo proved unbeatable at first, but their grip
gradually slipped as Enzo Ferrari’s rival cars came on strong. Ferrari’s
naturally aspirated V-12 engines were less powerful but also less thirsty; in
squeezing 420 brake horsepower from the little straight-eight engine, Alfa
were getting little more than a mile per gallon by the end of 1951.
Age finally killed the 158s: The primitive chassis weren’t up to
handling more power and the engines were reaching the end of their
working lives. Unwilling—or unable—to invest in F1’s future, Alfa Romeo
quit while they were (just about) ahead.
Giuseppe Farina (front) and Luigi Fagioli (back) battle it out in
their Alfa Romeo 158s. Alfa Romeo dealers encouraged the company to
reenter motorsports.
Driver Gear
Like fighter pilots, early racing drivers preferred cloth caps and goggles to crash
helmets—in case protective gear made people think they weren’t made of the right
stuff. Crash helmets became mandatory in 1952, but they remained basic: generally
cork- or cotton-lined metal. U.S. manufacturer Bell introduced the first mass-made
helmet with a laminated shell and absorbent foam liner, the 500-TX, in 1957. Eleven
years later, the first full-face helmets arrived, adapted from motorcycle racing.
Although the look has remained similar, material and construction technology has
evolved and F1 crash helmets now must meet ultratough safety standards. They are
literally bulletproof.
Arguably F1’s first megastar, Juan Manuel Fangio was nearly thirty-nine when the world
championship began. Many drivers of this generation had lost their best years to the
war, but not this softly spoken Argentine—he still had what it took to win. Though a
gentleman on- and off-track, he could be ruthless, swapping teams at short notice to
ensure he got the best car. His record of five world titles stood for forty-eight years.
Imagine being able to buy an F1 car in kit form to build yourself—or, if you
didn’t have all the equipment on hand, you could sweet-talk the
manufacturer into letting you use a corner of their workshop or paying them
to build it for you. In the 1950s this was a very real alternative to buying a
complete car from, say, Maserati, or going cap-in-hand to Enzo Ferrari to
see if you could rent one of his cars.
Now imagine if one of these kit racers actually won a grand prix and
transformed motor racing in the process.
Founded in a London suburb in 1947 by Charles Cooper and his son
John, the Cooper Car Company was one of those classic postwar British
engineering businesses that began with someone tinkering in their garage.
Charles Cooper built his own car to go racing in 500cc Formula 3, and other
competitors were so impressed they wanted to buy it from him. Within a
handful of years, Cooper cars were competing in motor racing’s highest
categories.
What made Coopers different was where you would find the engine: in
the back. While some prewar German grand prix cars had featured the
engine behind the driver, in the 1950s F1 most cars were front-engined. It
was practicality, not perversity, that dictated Cooper’s approach: In 500cc
racing, it had made sense to use a motorcycle engine and gearbox, and to
keep the chain drive to the rear wheels. Having the engine behind the driver
but ahead of the rear wheels made for better handling.
Cooper were still not taken seriously by the big manufacturers when
they upscaled their F3 cars to F1—until Stirling Moss won the 1958 season-
opening Argentine Grand Prix in a Cooper T43. Some thought this result a
fluke, but a massive swing was coming. The following year Jack Brabham
won the world championship in a Cooper, emphasizing that front-engined
cars were now obsolete.
Not for the faint of heart. Jack Brabham expertly guides his Cooper
T51 in first position at the 1959 Monaco Grand Prix.
Great Drivers
Jack Brabham
Nicknamed “Black Jack” on account of his aggressive driving style—he’d put a wheel
off-track to kick up stones in a chasing driver’s face—Jack Brabham learned his trade
in Australian dirt-track racing. A skilled mechanic, he was among the first drivers to
have engineering input into a top-level race car: he got his break assembling Coopers
and helped transform their F1 cars into winners. Brabham then set up his own
company and became the first driver to win a grand prix, then the world championship,
in a car bearing his own name.
Aussie Jack Brabham learned his craft of the dirt tracks of his
home country.
The Racesuit
In 1958 world champion Mike Hawthorn wore a shirt and jacket with a spotted bow tie.
Overalls became obligatory in 1963, but it wasn’t until 1975 that F1 adopted the fire-
resistant material Nomex, originally used in spacesuits. U.S. safety pioneer Bill
Simpson and NASA astronaut Pete Conrad, the third man to walk on the Moon,
collaborated to make the first Nomex race suits and Simpson often demonstrated their
benefits by setting himself on fire while wearing one. Like crash helmets, modern F1
race suits must comply with stringent standards—drivers even have to wear
flameproof underwear.
Jackie Stewart (right) assists Graham Hill with repairs to his
pre-Nomex race suit.
Making a little engine power go a long way would become a key theme in
the 1.5-liter era. Reducing the frontal area of cars to minimize air resistance
and maximize straight-line speed was an obvious area of development,
especially now that mid-mounted engines had become standard practice.
Compare a picture of a 1950s F1 car with one from the 1960s and you’ll
notice immediately how the driver of the later car is almost lying down
rather than sitting upright. This change required a new way of building the
car—it simply wasn’t possible to make a conventional multitube
spaceframe structure strong and small enough while accommodating a
driver at such an extreme angle.
Legend has it that visionary engineer Colin Chapman drew the first
sketches of what would become the Lotus 25 on a restaurant napkin while
waiting for his lunch. Chapman had founded his company in a garage under
a railway arch in North London and built a reputation for making fast and
light, if often fragile, racing cars. With the Lotus 25 he would achieve the
engineering holy grail of making a single element of the car perform more
than one task: Where conventional race cars had bodywork fitted to a
separate steel chassis frame, in Chapman’s new Lotus the “skin” would also
be a load-bearing element of the structure. This monocoque concept saved
weight and allowed the driver to sit in an aero-optimal position.
As Lotus’s race team racked up pole positions and victories, customers
of the now-obsolete Lotus 24, who had been assured the new car would be
mechanically identical, were left frustrated. But so it was with Chapman, a
man as slippery and ruthless in business as he was inspired at the drawing
board.
This photo, taken at the Dutch Grand Prix in 1964, perfectly
illustrates the simple elegance of the Lotus 25. Peter Arundell is
in the driver’s seat.
Lotus 49
Jim Clark
The first British driver to become a tax exile on account of his earnings, Clark was
brilliant in whatever car he drove. This was an era in which drivers were paid per race,
so they might be seen in a touring car one week and a grand prix the next, or even in
the support races for an F1 event. Clark even led the Indy 500, but he was eliminated
by mechanical trouble. He might have won more than two world championships and
certainly more races, but for car failures. The cause of his fatal accident in a Formula 2
race in Germany never has been definitively explained.
Jim Clark takes a break at West Germany’s Nürburgring in 1961.
Ken Tyrrell was a timber merchant with a taste for racing, and his team
graduated from the lower ranks of single-seater competition to be F1
contenders in partnership with Matra, an aerospace company with a sideline
in sports cars. However, Matra’s acquisition by the French division of
Chrysler in 1969 meant it would no longer be politically possible to use the
Fordbadged Cosworth V-8. Matra had a V-12. Yet when star driver Jackie
Stewart tested it, he said that while it made a nice noise, they would never
win a world championship with it.
Sticking with the Ford engine meant an end to the Matra partnership—
and, while McLaren, Brabham, and Lotus had lucrative businesses selling
cars to other teams, all of them ruled out supplying a direct competitor. This
was an era in which F1 was overtaking sportscar racing in the public
consciousness, races were being broadcast on TV more often, and the
rewards were greater and the political pressures more intense.
So Ken Tyrrell concluded a secret deal with a little-known engineer,
Derek Gardner, whose sole involvement in F1 had been to work on a four-
wheel-drive transmission system Tyrrell had tested before the concept was
banned. Gardner had never designed a car before, so he based his work on
photographs and intuition, building a mockup in his garage from wood,
chicken wire, and cardboard. An engine and gearbox were driven to his
house under cover of darkness to assess the fit, and Stewart also paid a
clandestine visit so the cockpit could be tailored to him. When the design
was ready, the metal panels were sourced from the company that built the
titular car for the movie Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.
While the 001 saw action in just a handful of races, it provided a
stepping-stone to cars that would enable Stewart to add two world titles to
his honors—and showed how individual ingenuity could still trump a large
R&D budget.
While the Tyrrell 001 was campaigned in just a handful of races,
the concepts employed by engineer Derek Gardner were stepping-
stones to later designs.
Lotus 72
There is no such thing as a level playing field in F1. Given enough leeway,
cunning engineers will find a way to establish a competitive edge by means
fair or foul. Sometimes that buccaneering spirit overreaches and has to be
reined in.
Although Lotus had facilitated the deal to create the Ford-Cosworth
DFV V-8, they only enjoyed exclusivity on it for a year—1967—and from
then on it was available to everyone. If the majority of the grid had equal
engine power, that meant having to look elsewhere for the “unfair
advantage.”
Lotus’s wedge-shaped Type 72 marked the transition from the cigar-
shaped designs that had dominated the grid for decades to the wedgy,
aerodynamically optimized shapes, which would define F1’s future.
Designers Colin Chapman and Maurice Phillippe moved the radiators from
their traditional location at the front of the car to a position just ahead of the
rear wheels, enabling the nose to be lower and flatter. It also shifted weight
toward the rear, useful for improving traction at a time when engine power
exceeded tire grip.
The 72 bristled with other ambitious engineering, including rising-rate
suspension—so-called because it was set up to increase resistance as it
moved through its available travel—using torsion bars rather than springs,
also enabling the front bodywork to be very slim. But it was all too much at
once. The suspension geometry was designed to resist the tendency of the
nose to dive under braking and the rear to squat under acceleration, but this
came at a cost of driver “feel”—and lap times.
Unveiled early in 1970, the 72 was withdrawn for a hasty redesign and
not reintroduced until round five of the championship, the Dutch Grand
Prix, which Lotus’s Jochen Rindt won by a 30 second margin. Rindt won
the next three races and then was killed in a crash during qualifying for the
Italian Grand Prix when a front brake shaft snapped. He remains the only
posthumous world champion.
The Lotus 72’s wedge shape was a radical departure from the cigar-
shaped race cars that preceded it. Here Jochen Rindt puts a 72
through its paces at the 1970 Spanish Grand Prix.
Renault RS01
In 2017 the Renault Formula 1 team celebrated the fortieth anniversary of its debut by
releasing an unusual limited-edition merchandise item: a chic, angular, bright yellow
and black $195 electric kettle. The passage of time had enabled the organization to
laugh at its own expense. Renault’s RS01 car was groundbreaking but ultimately a
brave failure, cruelly dubbed “the yellow teapot” by rivals on account of its tendency to
expire in a cloud of smoke.
When the RS01 appeared for the first time at the 1977 British Grand Prix weekend,
it was an outlier, the first car to take advantage of rules permitting 1.5-liter
turbocharged engines. Of the twenty-nine other cars starting the race, all but five were
powered by Ford-Cosworth V-8s. Ferrari’s flat-twelve was the only competitive non-
Ford engine available.
Since the RS01 was in effect a mobile testbed—with driver Jean-Pierre Jabouille as
chief engineer—its significance flew under the radar. Yes, it was clunky and overweight,
and its turbocharged engine and new Michelin radial tires were untried in competition.
The crudity of the chassis meant other competitors were slow to pick up on the
significant advance those radials represented over the cross-ply Goodyears everyone
else was using.
In the coming years radial tires would become ubiquitous—as would turbocharged
engines. As Renault conquered the reliability and drivability problems—the first
iteration suffered a massive lag in acceleration as the turbo spooled up—rivals who
had laughed whenever the RS01 stopped in a haze of gray fog realized they were being
left behind. Come the early 1980s, if you didn’t have a turbo engine, you were lost.
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No reprieve for weather. The much-maligned Renault RS01 is seen
before retiring with a broken alternator at the 1977 U.S. Grand
Prix at Watkins Glen.
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Jean-Pierre Jarier drives a Lotus 79 at Watkins Glen in 1978.
Great Drivers
Mario Andretti
It’s remarkable to think Mario Andretti remains the last American driver to win the F1
world championship. Italian-born, Andretti emigrated to the United States with his
family as a child and got a fake ID to enter his first car race when he was underage.
Beginning in dirt-track racing, Andretti honed skills that would make him a winner in
NASCAR, IndyCar, and sportscars, as well as F1.
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Mario Andretti celebrates victory at the United States Grand
Prix West in Long Beach, California, on April 3, 1977.
Today every car on the F1 grid is made from carbon fiber. But when
McLaren first drew up plans for a car with a composite structure, the idea
was viewed as fringe science. Other teams had taken advantage of carbon
fiber’s lightweight properties on small, nonstructural components, but the
key objection to building a complete car with it was that nobody knew what
would happen in a crash. Might it not just explode in a shower of dust and
shards?
John Barnard, McLaren’s single-minded chief designer, was new to the
job after spending time on the U.S. racing scene, where he felt there was
much more of a can-do culture. He pursued his carbon-car project with
almost messianic determination. It would be, quite literally, rocket science:
McLaren and their suppliers had plenty of expertise in the folded metal
structures that made up a traditional F1’s car’s monocoque chassis, but no
facilities to work with composite materials. That search took them to
Hercules Aerospace in Utah, the company that built, among other things,
the solid-fuel rocket motors for Polaris missiles and the boosters for the
Titan rockets used to launch the Voyager deep-space probes.
McLaren had been in a competitive slump for three years, bad enough
for title sponsor Marlboro to push for the change of management, which
brought Barnard on board. Introduced in the third race of the 1981 season,
the MP4/1 took its first podium finish four races later and John Watson
claimed its first victory in the British Grand Prix.
This 1981 photo taken behind Silverstone’s pit wall offers a good
inside view of the McLaren MP4/1’s ground-breaking carbon-fiber
construction.
Brabham BT52
Although many F1 fans believe the Brabham BT53 to be among the most
beautiful racing cars of all time, it was a pure case of form following
function—there was no time to consider aesthetics.
The early 1980s was a time of ugly political rancor in F1. Motor
racing’s governing body faced off against the Formula One Constructors’
Association (FOCA) and the battle lines were drawn, not for the first or last
time, over technical regulations and money. Brabham owner Bernie
Ecclestone was a key player in FOCA and was keen to expand his influence
in F1’s financial affairs.
Against this febrile background the governing body had been trying—
with mixed results—to contain the performance gains teams were finding
by combining ground effect aerodynamics with increasingly powerful
turbocharged engines. In 1982 two drivers were killed in accidents and
another suffered life-changing injuries.
Among the proposals for 1983 were flat-bottomed cars—to eliminate
ground effect—and smaller fuel tanks. Ecclestone assured his chief
designer, the exceptionally creative Gordon Murray, that flat bottoms
wouldn’t happen. But, seeing the bigger picture of compromise, Ecclestone
eventually caved on that point. Murray, like many of his rivals, had to tear
up the designs for his 1983 car.
Working long hours and fueled by amphetamines, Murray and his tiny
team of engineers rushed out a new car in just six weeks. It was slim, stiff,
and had a tiny fuel tank—Murray worked that the time gained by running
lighter would trade off favorably against time lost by stopping for more
fuel.
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Nelson Piquet pilots the Brabham BT52 at United States Grand Prix
West in Long Beach, California, March 25–27, 1983.
McLaren MP4/4
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McLaren’s 1988 car, the MP4/4, driven here by Alain Prost, featured
a low-line body style to reduce drag, an unusual look in at the
time.
Great Drivers
Ayrton Senna
Brazil has a rich history of producing incredibly competitive racing drivers, but
undoubtedly the greatest was Ayrton Senna. A brooding, complicated, brilliant, often
difficult individual, he was both quick and ruthless. If you saw his yellow crash helmet
in your mirrors, you got out of the way. His uncompromising nature led him to clash
with teammates, team bosses, and FIA leaders. His tragic death during the 1994 San
Marino Grand Prix changed motor racing forever.
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A brooding Ayrton Senna adjusts the mirror of his Lotus 98T in
1986.
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Nigel Mansell drives a Ferrari 640. The car was developed under
much palace intrigue.
Williams FW14B
Drive to Survive viewers have seen Williams at their lowest ebb, but this
team once defined technical excellence and pugnacious British grit. With
the FW14B, Williams harnessed experimental technologies other teams had
tried and abandoned. The result was a period of frenzied competitiveness
that prompted yet another FIA clampdown to control car performance.
The original FW14 of 1991 was the first Williams to feature input from
Adrian Newey, a visionary designer who combined aerodynamic expertise
with hands-on race engineering experience gleaned from working with
Bobby Rahal in IndyCar racing. Newey cars are characterized by zero-
compromise aerodynamics: Drivers love the performance but dislike the
cramped cockpit environment. The FW14 featured Newey touches such as a
raised nose cone, which encouraged airflow under the car toward the
diffuser under the gearbox. Its Renault V-10 also bristled with the latest
technology, including pneumatic valves. In the B-spec car introduced for
1992, Williams added active suspension and traction control to an
electronics package that already featured a semiautomatic gearbox.
Active suspension wasn’t there to make the car more comfortable. Its
purpose was to keep the FW14B perfectly flat relative to the track surface
so its aerodynamics would function at maximum efficiency. But this
required a certain kind of driver. The system robbed the driver of steering
“feel,” so they just had to trust that it would work. The abnormally brave
Nigel Mansell had that faith and confidence; teammate Riccardo Patrese
didn’t. Having been comparable all through 1991, the following season
Patrese simply couldn’t keep up with Mansell.
Cars such as the FW14B posed philosophical questions as well as
raising issues of safety. Should the best drivers in the world be given this
much technological help? The answer, then and now, is no.
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The Williams FW14B’s technological advances came at the expense of
driver feel. Nigel Mansell trusted the vehicle; his teammate,
Riccardo Patrese, seen here, not so much.
Driver Gear
The Gloves
Driving gloves date to the earliest days of the automobile, when steering wheels were
made of wood or metal and often slippery. Gloves were practical as well as stylish.
Now they fulfill an important safety function as well and are subject to the same
fireproofing regulations as the rest of the driver’s attire. Although there’s room for
customization (some drivers prefer the seams to be outside rather than inside), F1
gloves also have to feature biometric sensors, which transmit the driver’s pulse rate
and the amount of oxygen in their blood over an encrypted Bluetooth connection.
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Nikita Mazepin adjusts his gloves prior to competition. Today’s
gloves feature biometric sensors.
Ferrari F2004
What is the greatest ever F1 car? Ferrari’s F2004 has a strong case: It took
twenty-nine podium finishes, including fifteen wins, plus twelve pole
positions and fourteen fastest laps, and it still holds the outright lap record
at several circuits, including Monza, the temple of speed. It propelled
Michael Schumacher to his record-breaking seventh world championship
and enabled him to surpass his previous record for consecutive victories and
wins within a season. By the thirteenth of the eighteen races in 2004, Ferrari
had secured the constructors’ championship and the only other person
mathematically in contention for the drivers’ title was Schumacher’s
teammate Rubens Barrichello.
It was not a year that would have made a thrilling season of Drive to
Survive, since the Ferrari regime at the time wouldn’t have let the cameras
in. Under Jean Todt’s leadership, the team had become a relentless winning
machine. Hiring Schumacher in 1996 had been the tipping point: Already a
double world champion, he attracted some of the best engineers in the
business and Todt shielded the team’s personnel from the worst excesses of
the Italian media and politics elsewhere in the Ferrari empire. From 2000 to
2004, Michael was pretty much unbeatable, rarely more so than in ’04 when
the F2004 excelled and key rivals stumbled. The car proved so quick at its
first test—almost 2 seconds a lap faster than its predecessor—that Ferrari
themselves were baffled.
While this era is fondly remembered by Ferrari fans, it was a period of
intense political turmoil, intrigue over cheating (a ban on traction-control
systems was abandoned when it proved impossible to enforce), and heavy-
handed rule-tinkering by the FIA as it came under pressure to curb Ferrari’s
superiority.
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The greatest F1 car ever? Michael Schumacher recovers his Ferrari
F2004 from a spin in qualifying at the 2004 Silverstone race.
Great Drivers
Michael Schumacher
Believe it or not, there was a time when very few people had heard of Michael
Schumacher—not least financially troubled F1 team boss Eddie Jordan, who in 1991
had debts to pay and a seat to fill (the vacancy was caused by his driver, Bertrand
Gachot, being jailed for spraying a London taxi driver with CS gas in a road rage
incident). Faced with a choice of several drivers, Jordan took the one who was bringing
$150,000 in cash from Mercedes. The rest is history: Schumacher reset the boundaries
of what was expected from drivers in terms of professionalism and physical fitness as
well as speed, winning seven world titles.
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Michael Schumacher celebrates a win at the Hungarian Grand Prix,
on August 15, 2004.
McLaren’s rivalry with Ferrari has lain dormant for a decade, but at its most
intense it was even more toxic than the Red Bull–Mercedes rancor, which
has entertained fans in recent seasons of Drive to Survive. No other F1 car
has been conceived, built, and raced in such poisonous circumstances as
McLaren’s MP4-23, the car in which Lewis Hamilton claimed his first
world title by a single point—with an overtaking move on the last corner of
the last lap of the final grand prix of the year.
Hamilton’s debut season, 2007, had been marred by infighting with his
teammate, Fernando Alonso, and ended with Alonso leaving after just one
year with the team—but not before he’d played a part in a bigger scandal.
McLaren’s chief designer had obtained design schematics from a
disgruntled Ferrari employee, their aim being to find better jobs elsewhere
and quietly use the information to make themselves look smarter. But once
this was exposed, the course of events—a prolonged drip of revelations,
accusations, denial, and counteraccusations between the two teams—meant
questions were rightly asked about how many people within McLaren knew
of the theft. The team was fined an incredible $100 million, and the designs
of the 2008 car, the MP4-23, were forensically examined for traces of
Ferrari methodology.
Hamilton was already a media sensation thanks to his story, his driving
talent, and the fact that he’d taken the championship battle to the wire in his
maiden season. Now it was tough to get a seat in the press room, such was
the mass-market interest in his fortunes.
In the bigger picture, questions were also being raised about the
aerodynamic complexity of F1 cars and how it worked against overtaking.
Newer, simpler cars with mild hybrid electrical boost were mandated for
2009—so it’s ironic that F1’s ultimate aero era should have closed with
Hamilton’s thrilling last-gasp championship victory.
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The pit crew struggles with a front wheel on Lewis Hamilton’s
McLaren MP4-23 at the 2008 Malaysian Grand Prix.
image NO OTHER F1 CAR HAS BEEN CONCEIVED, BUILT, AND RACED IN
SUCH POISONOUS CIRCUMSTANCES AS MCLAREN’S MP4-23”
Red Bull RB9
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Mark Webber negotiates his Red Bull RB9 through the start of the
Belgian Grand Prix at Spa-Francorchamps on August 25, 2013.
Mercedes F1 W05
When Jean Todt took over from Max Mosley as FIA president, one of the
pressing issues he felt he had to tackle was F1’s image as a gas-guzzling
sport, increasingly out of step with audience tastes and the direction of the
wider automotive industry. This was a looming existential crisis, since F1
depends on manufacturer involvement—and high-profile companies such as
Renault, which had made big bets on EVs, were warning that unless F1
reflected the road cars they were actually making, what was the point?
2013 was the year set for a new engine formula that would embrace
downsizing and electrification. That slipped to 2014 as arguments raged
over the details. Very quietly Mercedes, which had returned as a
manufacturer team in 2010, had its engine division channel resources into
researching the best solutions and identifying likely problems.
Finally, the stakeholders agreed on a package of 1.6-liter turbocharged
hybrid V-6s with limits on revs, how much fuel could be used in a race, and
how much fuel could flow at any given time. The hybrid systems were
complex, including energy recovery from the brakes and exhaust, and
another that could use recovered energy to make the turbo spin, reducing
the lag that is a hallmark of turbocharging. This element proved most
problematic because the rotational speed of a turbo (up to 200,000 rpm)
poses huge challenges for lubrication and heat management. Mercedes
solved it first, giving them a lasting advantage through the first five seasons
of the hybrid era. By contrast Renault did a poor job, causing the schism
with Red Bull that Netflix viewers will recall.
Commercial rights holder Bernie Ecclestone hated the Mercedes
dominance that ensued (the F1 W05 won sixteen out of nineteen races) and
imposed a kneejerk rule change to spice things up, awarding double points
in the season finale. He loathed the quietness of the engines relative to the
V-8s too, hence further changes were to come.
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F1 head Bernie Ecclestone detested the dominance of the Mercedes F1
W05. Lewis Hamilton drives his W05 in qualifying for the Singapore
Grand Prix on September 20, 2014.
Driver Gear
The Watch
It was Jackie Stewart who first caught on to the importance of watches to a driver.
Recognizing the possibility of losing skin—or worse—in an accident if his watch was
ripped from his wrist (known as “de-gloving”), Stewart liked to make a point of handing
his watch over to team boss Ken Tyrrell for safekeeping while he was on track. Since
Stewart already had a sponsorship arrangement with Rolex, this little piece of theater
made for a handy marketing gimmick—indeed, well over four decades after his
retirement, Stewart remained a fixture in the F1 paddock hosting Rolex VIPs. In recent
years, teams and drivers have been keen to strike deals with other high-end
watchmakers and have gotten around the bans on wearing them by stitching replica
patterns into their suits and gloves.
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Jackie Stewart (right) and driver Mark Webber compare Rolexes at
the 2004 Chinese Grand Prix.
Ferrari F1-75
When Liberty Media acquired the commercial rights to F1 in 2017 and immediately
parked former “ringmaster” Bernie Ecclestone in a non-job (“chairman emeritus”), fresh
air whistled through the paddock. Now a company that understood the modern
audience was in charge rather than an individual whose idea of entertainment was
solidly rooted in the last century.
As well as granting unprecedented access to Box to Box productions to make Drive
to Survive (a course correction so drastic that Mercedes and Ferrari declined to
participate in season 1), Liberty laid out plans to add pizzazz to each event and to
improve the on-track spectacle. Clearly this last ambition was something that had
been attempted many times before, generally ending in failure.
To maximize the chances of success this time around, Liberty engaged an entire
department of engineers with long F1 experience to work on a new set of technical
regulations that would enable cars to follow each other closely enough to overtake.
This group had seen enough rule changes in their time to be aware of the potential for
unintended consequences—and to avoid them.
The result was the great reset of 2022. This new generation of cars is less reliant
on their front and rear wings for cornering performance, and less disruptive to cars
behind.
Ferrari’s own recent problems will be familiar to viewers. Through 2020 and 2021,
they chose to focus their development resources on their 2022 package in the hope of
establishing an advantage. Payback came when the F1-75 proved competitive
straightaway.
Unlike Mercedes, Ferrari had successfully navigated some of the potential pitfalls
of the new formula. Their car was competitive and looked fantastic. But after Charles
Leclerc carved out an early lead in the drivers’ championship Ferrari, as so often in the
past, things went into self-destruct mode: engine failures and strategic blunders
compounded mistakes by the drivers themselves.
It all made for an entertaining spectacle–just as F1’s new owners had hoped.
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Carlos Sainz’s Ferrari F1-75 is seen in a moment of repose at
the 2022 Australian Grand Prix.
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In the Beginning
Except for featuring cars with four wheels, the first races to carry the name
“grand prix” would be barely recognizable as such to fans of Drive to
Survive. These were timed events on public roads in which competitors set
off at intervals, racing against the clock as much as each other. And by
“competitors” we mean individual drivers and “riding mechanics” who
stayed on board to fix the car if something went wrong—which it often did.
Racing cars of the day were neither sophisticated nor fast by today’s
standards.
The first grand prix, held in France in 1906, was won by the Hungarian
Ferenc Szisz and held over a 64.1-mile lap, which entrants had to cover a
total of twelve times over the course of a hot midsummer weekend. Szisz’s
Renault car was a bespoke racing machine with a 13-liter four-cylinder
engine producing 90 brake horsepower at a heady 1,200 rpm, driving the
rear wheels via a three-speed manual gearbox, and was clocked at a
maximum speed of 96 miles per hour. If this velocity seems humble, bear
in mind the only braking systems were a foot-operated metal band, which
squeezed the gearbox shaft, and a pair of drums on the rear wheels, which
Szisz had to activate by pulling a lever.
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The light, lithe Bugatti 35 was the seminal Grand Prix car of the
1920s, moving the science of Grand Prix car design from its near
Stone Age beginnings and into the 1930s. This dramatic shot was
captured at an Italian Grand Prix event at Garda, 1926.
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But even in this primitive era, just as today, winning came down to strategic
decisions in design and race execution. The rules in the 1906 French GP
capped car weight at 1,000 kilograms, difficult to achieve given the size of
the engine required. Michelin had new tires available on detachable rims,
which meant the driver and mechanic could change tires in 4 minutes rather
than 10, but at a cost of heavier wheels. Renault opted to run these, but only
on the back axle’s more highly stressed drive wheels and the team did a
precautionary change every two laps. To save weight, they also removed
the differential (a set of gears that allows the outside rear wheel to spin
faster than the inner wheel through turns)—theoretically an impediment to
cornering performance, but not such a problem on a long triangular course
with only three sharp bends. Szisz’s 32 minute margin of victory owed
much to the fact that his car was the fastest in a straight line and spent less
time being worked on.
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Midcentury Modern
While the drivers have rightly become the stars of the show since the days
of poor old Szisz (Renault pocketed the entire 45,000-Franc prize),
technology and teamwork are what have put them on the stage.
When the F1 world championship began in 1950, the cars ran on spindly
cross-ply tires, aerodynamics were barely understood, and there were no
safety features as such (not even seatbelts—it was believed to be better for
the driver to be thrown from the car if it crashed, in case it caught fire). Just
a handful of people were responsible for designing, building, and operating
the race cars.
Competition drove innovations such as independent suspension, disc
brakes, fuel-injected engines, radial tires, semiautomatic seamless-shift
gearboxes, and advanced chassis construction. The first F1 cars had the
engine in front of the driver, and the chassis—essentially the car’s
underlying skeleton—was a simple ladderlike frame with bodywork bolted
or riveted on top. Moving the engine behind the driver in the late 1950s
improved car balance, and smarter chassis construction made the cars
lighter and faster: ladder frames evolved into spaceframes, a network of
carefully stress-tested tubes; then the monocoque principle enabled
engineers to use the outer skin of the car to absorb chassis loads rather than
functioning as mere decoration. Aerodynamics became another key arbiter
of performance and could boost cornering speeds as well as improve the
straight-line figures.
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Tech Speak
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This Ferrari Enzo engine bay shows how much has trickled
down, or been inspired by, F1 technology. This V-12 was very
much aped from an F1 design, and you’ll note the inboard shocks
and springs and intensive use of composites and lightweight
metals.
Research and development also demand the best equipment and highly
qualified specialists. In the 2000s, when F1 was flush with tobacco-
sponsorship money and car manufacturer largesse, and money was no
object, leading teams viewed it as essential to have two or more wind
tunnels, including at least one big enough to accommodate a full-scale car.
Cost controls now restrict the teams to one tunnel and a maximum 60
percent scale model, with further limits on speeds the tunnel can simulate
and how many “runs” can be performed. Increased computer processing
power over the past decade has made “virtual” research an important part
of the mix, but it too is restricted by F1 rules and has some limits in scope.
Certain elements of F1 car behavior—the turbulence induced by the front
wheels, for instance—are impossible to simulate exactly.
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F1 Team HQs are tightly guarded locations and houses the team
behind the team. Some build their own engines, most their own
chassis, but no matter where things come from, they all come
together here. Top teams also boast their own wind tunnels; this
is Red Bull F1 Technology’s Milton Keynes, England, facility.
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To fast-track designs into the wind tunnel, teams use industrial-size rapid
prototyping machines, in effect large-scale 3D printing. These work by
firing lasers into a vat of a reactive substance (it can be a liquid or powder)
that solidifies at the laser’s focal point, creating an exact replica of the
design in three dimensions. But with limited time permitted in the tunnel,
it’s never been more important to make the right choices at the design and
conceptual stages.
Modern cost controls also mean drivers have fewer opportunities to test
drive their cars in real conditions. Until the 2000s teams could test
anywhere, any time, and would often rent out circuits to run alone, behind
closed doors. Ferrari still has their own private test track, Fiorano, opposite
the factory gates in Maranello, but regulations forbid them from running
their current F1 cars there. Now there are generally just two preseason tests
open to all, while individual teams are allowed a limited number of filming
days.
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This is just one part of the wing’s job. Every one of an F1 car’s
aerodynamic components has to work in harmony with those downstream
of it—what aerodynamicists call the “flow structure.” What this means in
practice is the front wing has a huge influence on the overall aerodynamic
efficiency of the car. As well as generating downforce, it steers air around
the front wheels, minimizing the negative impact their wake turbulence has
on the rest of the car. The front wing also maintains a smooth and
consistent airflow under the car. In previous years the so-called diffuser, a
sculpted underfloor tunnel between the rear wheels, was a major
contributor to downforce by accelerating airflow and creating lower
pressure under the car.
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Cars began sporting all manner of wings and other aero devices
in the 1960s. Wings are good and providing two things: increased
cornering grip due to downforce and wind resistance or
aerodynamic drag; the first is good, the latter not so much. Lotus
mastermind Colin Chapman divined that airflow beneath the car
could be used to help suck the car to the ground with less drag
than ever more and ever larger wings; this “ground effect”
principle was startling and proved without doubt on this Lotus 79
grand prix, which Mario Andretti drove to the 1978 world driving
title.
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Tech Speak
We may not be able to see the particles that make up the air we breathe, but
they’re there. And when an F1 car moves through them, friction is the
result. Aerodynamicists call it drag, and any surface of the car can
contribute to it, although the wings are major contributors.
DRS emerged from a device that was pioneered by McLaren in 2010 and
quickly banned. They found that by channeling air through the car via a
network of tubes and directing it over the suction surface of the rear wing,
they could reduce downforce and drag, gaining 6 miles per hour or more in
a straight line. The driver activated the system by pressing his knee against
the tube where it passed through the cockpit. Not everything in F1 is as
high tech as you might think.
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That big open gap in this Mercedes-AMG rear wing is the DRS
when activated; allowing less aero drag, and several miles per
hour more top speed, depending on the track. Not everyone loves
this technology, but it has made passing more prevelant, and
likely safer, than in recent seasons before DRS was implemented.
For much of the world championship’s existence, building cars and making
engines have been separate disciplines. Of the ten most successful teams in
terms of race wins, seven built just their cars and bought their engines from
outside manufacturers. History is littered with failures brought on by teams
trying to do everything under one roof and overstretching their resources.
In the 1960s and 1970s the Ford-Cosworth V-8 democratized F1: It was
powerful, affordable, and reliable. More significantly, Ford wasn’t running
a team, so they weren’t competing against their own customers.
The competitive landscape has changed in recent years. The technology
needed to build a racing engine is incredibly advanced, even more so in the
hybrid era—a rules package that was supposed to entice new entrants
because it was more relevant to modern road cars. In reality there is only
Mercedes, Ferrari, Renault, and Honda. Engine supply has taken on a
political dimension. Mercedes was dominant in the early years of the
hybrid era because they started earlier and nailed key technological
problems first. Ferrari and Renault were caught short; Honda was initially
way behind, having committed much later, only arriving in 2015.
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Red Bull was dissatisfied with the Renault hybrid engine’s power and
reliability. Renault’s decision to return as a “works team” in 2016 provided
the tipping point. The problem for Red Bull was that they were too good
for Mercedes or Ferrari to want to supply them, which left just Honda.
It’s a point glossed over in Drive to Survive, but the situation was less
perilous for Red Bull than it appeared. Their “B-team,” Toro Rosso, had
been running Honda engines throughout 2018. So even as Abiteboul
gloated, Horner knew Honda was coming good at last—and keen to work
closely with one of the best teams in the business.
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Tech Speak
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It’s also leading the way in fuel efficiency. That may seem a peculiar goal,
since motor racing historically involves burning lots of petrol, but a key
element of the rules is that the cars can start the race with no more than 110
kilograms of fuel. Going fastest while using the least amount of fuel has
driven incredible advances in technology. Burning petrol is an inherently
inefficient process—the average road car engine converts only 20 percent
or so of the fuel’s potential energy into kinetic energy (i.e., driving the
pistons up and down). F1 PUs currently achieve 52 percent by burning the
fuel more efficiently and recycling the energy expelled from the exhaust, as
well as by reclaiming energy from the brakes.
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A Williams mechanic goes over the FW44 power unit at the 2022
Italian Grand Prix. While the old guard bemoans the passing of
the V-10s and V-8s, today’s turbocharged hybrids are easier on
the environment and on the ear.
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Tech Speak
Components of an F1 PU
Internal Combustion Engine (ICE)
Turbocharger
This is the hybrid element most manufacturers struggled to get right. Part
of the turbocharger assembly, it uses the movement of the turbine to
generate electricity, which can be sent to the Energy Store or the MGU-K.
It can also spin the turbines itself, eliminating “turbo lag,” or the delay
between the driver pressing the accelerator and the turbines spinning up to
deliver their boost. This requires it to be capable of spinning at up to
100,000 rpm, a huge challenge for reliability.
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This diagram of the Ferrari 059/3 power unit calls out the MGU-
H (motor generator unit-heat), which uses the turbine’s
movement to generate electricity.
Chapter 4
BUILD IT AND THEY WILL COME
F1 CIRCUITS
One large part of the appeal of Drive to Survive is F1’s traveling circus. During
the course of a race season, Formula 1 visits five continents. F1’s tracks—or
“circuits”—are the stages on which this grand circus performs. But whether
purpose built or laid out on city streets, not all circuits are created equal—and
with cars capable of hitting speeds over 200 miles per hour, there’s a lot of work
to do to keep everyone safe.
“Build it and They Will Come,” indeed. Bahrain International Circuit
was a complicated design and undertaking, owing largely to the hot
desert landscape. Here Tsunoda Yuki and his Scuderia AlphaTauri
AT03 see action during the 2022 Gulf Air Bahrain Grand Prix.
Grands prix at permanent (or semipermanent) facilities now make up most of the
season. Purpose-built tracks have a consistency of surface and infrastructure, the
spectators get a good view (mostly) from a safe distance, and there’s enough
space for cars to run offtrack without immediately hitting a barrier. The downside
is that most circuits are at out-of-town locations, which are hard to reach if you
don’t have a car, so they’re not an easy or inexpensive entry point for new fans—
which, as viewers of DTS know, doesn’t mean the bleachers sit empty.
Street circuits such as Monaco, Azerbaijan, Singapore, and Las Vegas are often
more hazardous because of the tight confines of the urban landscape and the
proximity of the barriers. But their locations can attract more local people who
might otherwise be inclined to make the journey.
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The street circuit dedicated to the running of the Monaco Grand Prix is
one of the most attractive and certainly most romantic on the F1
calendar. Even though it’s evolved considerably since its beginnings,
primarily in terms of safety barriers, reconfigured corners, and lighting
inside its iconic tunnel, it’s still a tricky drive—particularly given the
speed of today’s cars. Were it presented today to Formula 1
management and drivers, it’s doubtful it would be approved or accepted
as an official race venue. The drivers who have mastered it, such
multitime winners Graham Hill and the incomparable Ayrton Senna,
are hailed as GOATs for their success here. This marvelous shot comes
from the opening lap of the 1977 race.
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Unprecedented obstacles are everywhere you look at Monaco. In spite
of some widening over the years and other additional safety measures,
there’s lots to hit in the form of safety railing, buildings, safety vehicles
on course, and such. It’s gorgeous to be sure, but very tricky to drive
well and fast, and even tougher on which to pass.
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Famous Features
Originally a long, bumpy, and very fast constant radius bend that carried drivers
through a full 180 degrees, the Peraltada gained notoriety during a non-
championship test event before Mexico joined the F1 calendar. Local hero
Ricardo Rodríguez lost control of his Lotus there when its suspension failed, with
fatal consequences. The corner remained a signature feature of the circuit despite
several high-profile incidents: Ayrton Senna rolled his McLaren there during
practice for the 1991 Mexican GP. That race also featured one of the most
spectacular overtakes of all time, when Nigel Mansell went around the outside of
Gerhard Berger at the Peraltada—a feat of supreme bravery at racing speeds.
Unfortunately the run-off area was too small for modern cars and nonextendable,
so on the current layout, the track dodges inside the Foro Sol baseball stadium,
which was built just within the curve of the corner while the GP was on hiatus
between 1992 and 2015.
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The home of the Mexican Grand Prix is a fast, challenging course. It’s
also brilliantly colorful, as are the enthusiastic attendees, particularly
when there’s a Mexican or Latin driver in the field or on the winner’s
podium.
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The famous Hungaroring is huge and known for its long, sweeping,
semicircular corners. It’s surrounded primarily by rural farmland.
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Famous Features
Once considered among F1’s most challenging corners (and now derided by
keyboard warriors for being “too easy”), this section will make you wince when
you watch the onboard footage of the Racing Point drivers banging wheels here
in Drive to Survive S1:E6. The original public road plunged downward, then took
a sharp left-right as it hit the bottom of the valley and crossed the river that gives
the corner its name (owing to the mineral content the water has a reddish tint).
There’s then a sharp uphill ramp and a left corner over a blind crest—that’s
Raidillon, where Formula 2 driver Anthoine Hubert lost his life in 2019 (DTS
S2:E6). On the other side of the tire barrier, there’s a steep, wooded drop to the
valley floor, which required large-scale excavation to extend the runoff area.
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Eau Rouge is a fast uphill right hander that never fails to figure in F1
racing history in terms of significant passes, accidents, or other
impactful moments. It’s also a beautiful and historic course, surrounded
by deep green forest.
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Famous Features
130R, Suzuka
Alongside Eau Rouge, this fast left-hander remains one of F1’s signature tests of
bravery despite adjustments to make it safer. Modern F1 cars have sufficient grip
and aerodynamic downforce to carry huge speeds through here, but it was once
the case that when something went wrong here, it went very wrong—once the car
started getting away from the driver, there was no way of getting it back. Toyota’s
Allan McNish provided a case study in this during qualifying for the 2002
Japanese GP: His car slid onto the curb at the exit, the back end more than the
front, and instinctively McNish tried to correct the slide by steering into it. The
result was the rear end gripped up again and then slid the other way, sending him
into the barrier backward with an impact speed of 175 miles per hour and 69 G.
He ended up on the other side with his car shorn in two.
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Alan McNish’s trajectory toward (and through) the barrier at the exit of
130R at the 2002 Japanese Grand Prix is written in black lines on the
asphalt.
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Track designers map out layouts down to a matter of inches and simulate them
carefully to work out what the speeds might be and where the barriers need to go.
The layout of the Miami Grand Prix circuit around the Hard Rock Stadium went
through thirty-six permutations before all the stakeholders settled on a final
design. One of the final changes involved relocating the entire pitlane and pit
complex to the outside rather than the inside of the track, because Miami
Dolphins owner Stephen Ross wanted to be able to use the pit buildings for other
purposes for the rest of the year.
An incredible amount of thought then goes into the details. How much runoff
area is required? How will the spectators get in and out? Where do the barriers
go? What type of barriers will they be? Where will the marshal stations and
access points go? Simulations help to predict the drivers’ sightlines, which dictate
the locations of the marshal posts and signal boards. They also help predict
potential danger areas where cars may crash; here they need a means of
extracting those cars quickly.
There’s also catch fencing to consider. It has to offer high levels of protection
while enabling trackside staff and spectators to see through. After a series of
accidents in U.S. IndyCar racing, the FIA began to lay down specific standards
for what impact forces the catch fencing has to be capable of managing: the test
involves firing an actual car at the fencing at 75 miles per hour with an impact
angle of 20 degrees. To pass the test, the fence cannot deflect or move more than
3 meters from the installation site.
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This is the fiery aftermath of Haas driver Romain Grosjean’s crash just
at the start of the 2020 Baharin Grand Prix. In spite of the horrific
images initially captured on the television coverage, Grosjean’s injuries
were confined to second-degree burns on his hands. He retired from F1,
and has since joined the IndyCar series in North America. Of course,
the doctor-equipped Mercedes F1 safety car was on scene immediately
to see to the driver’s well being.
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Sprightly and energetic even into his eighties, Sir Jackie Stewart crops up
regularly in the background of Drive to Survive episodes: He’s the guy in the
tartan. He nearly didn’t make it this far.
Spa-Francorchamps was longer in Stewart’s race days (8.76 miles) and still made
from public roads. The race in question started in dry weather, but on lap one the
heavens opened. Seven drivers spun out, including Stewart, whose car
aquaplaned at 170 miles per hour into a telegraph pole—then a roadside cottage,
then a farm building. American driver Bob Bondurant had to borrow a wrench
from a spectator to remove Stewart’s steering wheel so he could be pried out of
the mangled cockpit. In the 25 minutes it took to get Stewart out of the car, no
marshals arrived to help. By then, he was soaked in fuel and suffering chemical
burns on top of his other injuries. When he regained consciousness in the
building that served as the medical center, he was on a stretcher on the floor with
the dirt and cigarette butts. The only doctor present was a gynecologist. Stewart
was packed into an ambulance for a hospital in Liege, but the ambulance driver
got lost.
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A young John Young Stewart (before he was Sir Jackie) was an early,
vocal, and influential champion of improving racing safety. He pushed
for the reconfiguration of dangerous race conditions, the use of full-
faced helmets, and the need for ever better trackside medical personnel,
equipment, and facilities. He also was a successful driver with his
twenty-seven Grands Prix victories and three world driving titles.
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The “Wee Scot” is one cool dude, today as in the 1960s. The now Sir
Jackie Stewart’s trademark longish hair and tartan plaid clothing
accessories created a look forever tied to him, and the now
octogenarian remains a common sight at nearly every F1 race. He’s
often consulted and deeply regarded for his authoritative experience
and viewpoints.
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The first corner at Monza has always been a flash point, especially on the first
lap. In 1978 the field was signaled to go before the final cars had come to a halt
on the grid, sparking a multicar shunt at turn one for which Riccardo Patrese was
unfairly blamed (and banned). Lotus driver Ronnie Peterson, running second in
the drivers’ championship, suffered multiple leg fractures but wasn’t considered
at risk. He later died in the hospital after suffering kidney failure brought on by
blood poisoning.
It was clear that starting procedures needed tighter control. But the most
immediate consequence was the hiring of Professor Sid Watkins as F1’s
permanent medical delegate, with a remit that included following the field at the
start in a medical car so he could quickly reach the scene of any first-lap accident.
The first-responder role today is occupied by Dr. Ian Roberts, who is also on
permanent standby throughout races and is automatically called when car sensors
register a high impact (the drivers also carry accelerometers in their ears). The
medical car is a high-performance vehicle—currently rotating between Mercedes
and Aston Martin—that carries everything required to stabilize a driver’s
condition trackside before they’re taken to the medical center. To ensure it arrives
quickly, it’s driven by 2003 British Formula 3 Champion Alan van der Merwe. In
the Drive to Survive episode “Man on Fire,” the producers employ liberal use of
multiple angles and slow motion to depict Romain Grosjean’s accident in the
2020 Bahrain Grand Prix, such that you might think it took minutes for help to
arrive. In fact, the medical car arrived within 10 seconds.
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This first lap melee was tragic in many ways. The pileup and fire cost
Lotus driver Ronnie Peterson his life; his Lotus teammate, Mario
Andretti, won the championship on this day, but lost one of his best
friends, ending any notion of celebration. If there was any positive
force that day, this avoidable accident helped bring about a revised lap
1, a green flag, and starting procedures aimed at minimizing the
accordion effect that caused this awful wreck, injuries, and loss of life.
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Suzuka in Japan was built as a test track for Honda, so it aimed to pack as many
different corner types as possible into a tight piece of real estate—on a hillside.
Hence its unique figure-eight layout and corners that really test chassis dynamics
and driver finesse. And while Monza’s chicanes are a necessary blight (for safety
reasons), the sheer speeds and the passion of the crowd make the Italian track a
driver favorite. As for Monaco, it may be impossible to overtake on the tight
street circuit, but the skill required to skim the barriers at high speed without
hitting them for lap after lap make it tough but satisfying.
Conversely many clean-sheet designs have lacked a certain magic no matter how
much time and money has been thrown at them. For all the spectacle—the day-
into-night format, the midrace light show, and the postrace firework display—the
Abu Dhabi Grand Prix is generally disliked owing to the layout of the Yas Marina
circuit, which manages to be too striving and too boring at the same time. A
redesign ahead of the 2021 race did little to improve it. A frequent criticism of
this and other tracks designed by Hermann Tilke is an overreliance on slow
corners with off-camber sloping surfaces, placed there to encourage drivers to
make mistakes. But F1 drivers don’t make many mistakes.
Another circuit F1, generally speaking, will be pleased never to visit again is the
Sochi Autodrom in Russia. A low-grip surface, a layout dictated by existing
buildings (the 2014 Winter Olympics venue), and the generally hateful process of
actually getting there (unless you were on a private jet) made this one to miss.
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Rain late in an already delayed Japanese Grand Prix brought slippery conditions
and greatly reduced visibility. On lap forty-three Bianchi lost control of his car at
the Dunlop corner and hit an extraction vehicle that was attending to another car
that had spun out. Some of the preimpact footage is shown in the DTS season 1
episode “The Next Generation,” which follows Charles Leclerc, Bianchi’s friend
and godson. Bianchi’s head hit the extraction vehicle, leaving him in a vegetative
state until his eventual death.
So many questions. Why stick to a 3 p.m. start time in Japan in October, when
poor weather and low light were likely? Why was the safety car not deployed
while the other car was being retrieved? Why did it take so long for the FIA to
understand the severity of the accident? Why was Bianchi driven to the hospital
rather than flown by helicopter?
What emerged from the official inquiry was that Bianchi didn’t slow down
enough for the yellow flags signaling the first accident and that he tried to deploy
a failsafe system that cuts the engine when the driver presses the brake and
throttle at the same time. This didn’t work because his car’s brake-by-wire
system wasn’t compatible. The medical helicopter was unavailable because of
low cloud cover.
The result was a tightening of procedures around yellow flags and the
development of the virtual safety car system, which is now used to slow down all
cars by a specified amount almost instantly. Track drainage was also improved,
new rules governed how long races could be delayed, and sessions are now
stopped if the medical helicopter can’t take off. The colored light panels around
the track that relay the flag status have been improved (although their visibility is
still sometimes open to question—Lewis Hamilton failing to see one earned a
penalty and opened the door for Pierre Gasly to win the 2020 Italian Grand Prix
covered in DTS S3:E6).
And while the inquiry found that no impact structure could have survived the
crash, Bianchi’s accident added momentum to the development of the halo
cockpit protection system introduced in 2017.
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So many of the GP races run at Suzuka have been in the wet, some of
which caused tragic wrecks, loss of life, and altered championship
scenarios. Jules Bianchi’s ultimately fatal crash raised difficult
questions—along with answers many didn’t want to hear.
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You’ll have to use a little imagination as you head around the lap. A roundabout
now stands at the beginning of what was once a dangerously fast corner. The
great Juan Manuel Fangio said he would glance over at the cornfield to his right
to judge the speed and direction of the wind before he committed to going flat
out.
Vanishingly few former grand prix venues are treated with such reverence. Go
125 miles north and you’ll find an area of Belgium famous for being the site of
the Battle of Waterloo. Not far from there, an industrial estate is growing up
where once stood the unloved Nivelles-Baulers circuit, site of two Belgian
Grands Prix in the 1970s when Spa-Francorchamps was considered too
dangerous to race on.
While some venues, such as Brands Hatch in England, fell off the calendar
because F1 cars became too fast for them, most of these remained in business
serving other race series. New-build tracks have fared less well, battered by the
twin forces of politics and commerce. This is a consequence of the way the
commercial winds have been blowing over the past decades. The leveraged
acquisition of F1’s commercial rights by various entities over the years has
created debts to service, and race promoters have felt the squeeze, often crowded
out by government-funded races in nations eager to put themselves on the map.
There was a time when Silverstone’s place was under constant threat and even
Spa is to become an irregular regular, rotating in and out of the calendar to make
way for other races. Nivelles-Baulers’ promoter went bust and couldn’t even
afford to complete the originally planned circuit layout. Having alternated
between the road-based courses of Reims and Rouen until the early 1960s, the
French Grand Prix went on a tour of the country via several new-builds dictated
by regional politics, including a vanity project paid for by pastis magnate Paul
Ricard (who named the track after himself) and Dijon-Prenois, championed by
multisportsman and local hero Francois Chambelland. It finally ended up at
Magny-Cours in central France, not because that circuit had any special merit but
because it was located in the home province of the country’s then president.
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A shame and a waste turns out to be the current state of affairs at the
Buddh International Circuit, which hosted F1 races between 2011 and
2013. Unfortunately money issues and politics currently see it off the
F1 calendar, unfortunate as it’s a well-designed and up-to-date facility
that the drivers seemed to enjoy racing on.
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The attrition rate has been particularly high among modern tracks built with the
sole purpose of bringing F1 to a particular country. It’s said that Bernie
Ecclestone, F1’s former commercial boss, had a lightbulb moment in the 1980s
when he did the deal to add the Australian Grand Prix to the calendar. After years
of dealing with local promoters who were unreliable and prone to inconvenient
bankruptcies, Ecclestone loved it when a representative of the South Australian
government flew to London to hand over the check in person. But Sepang in
Malaysia provided the template for what might be called the big-bucks national
prestige project: government-subsidized new-build tracks with fancy architecture
that look great on TV.
Sepang lasted from 1999 until 2017. The official reason given for dropping out of
F1 was the rising cost of hosting the race and declining ticket sales. It never
attracted a large crowd because the tickets were too expensive for locals. Rather
the political will to underwrite the ongoing expense ran out: the cost outweighed
the benefits.
At least Sepang is still used. Other tracks funded by local government largesse in
Korea and India hosted just a handful events before falling victim to regime
change in local politics. They now lie almost dormant, used only for small-scale
events such as track days.
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Famous Features
So tight that modern F1 cars are specially adapted to steer around it, this hairpin
corner has had many names through the years, and not just because the hotel that
stands over the site has changed hands so many times. It used to be Monaco’s
railway station, and the drivers of passing trains would often make unplanned
halts on the bridge during the race to give passengers a view of the action. Since
Monaco is a tiny piece of real estate, very little has changed in terms of the flow
of the road in this section since the Principality hosted its first Grand Prix in
1929. It’s a continuous slope down, even through the corner, so for a fraction of a
second the cars are steering with just one wheel touching the track surface.
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Famous Features
Maggotts-Becketts-Chapel, Silverstone
Put simply, there’s no better place in the world to watch how fast an F1 car can
travel through a flowing set of corners when it’s loaded up on downforce and
grippy tires. This is a make-or-break section in terms of lap time, so in qualifying
the drivers will be fully committed. It’s the speed of the direction changes that
blow the mind, even though modern F1 cars are so much heavier than their
predecessors.
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Famous Features
It’s been reconfigured time and time again for safety reasons, but the section of
track that swoops around Monaco’s harbor-front swimming pool remains one of
the toughest sections of what is already F1’s most difficult circuit. The barriers
are a driver’s constant companion around a lap of this narrow circuit, but the
direction changes required here demand utter precision. It is a question of
millimeters.
Italian driver Alex Caffi gave a graphic demonstration of what can go wrong here
when his Footwork-Porsche slid wide into the barriers during practice for the
1991 race. The TV crew weren’t paying attention (as a backmarker, Caffi was of
little interest), so the only extant footage is low-res black-and-white video from a
trackside security camera. Caffi came to rest sitting in the only unbroken section
of the car, with the engine still attached.
This section is much safer now, but it is still challenging. The main pinch point is
the final right-left as the drivers pass the pool: It’s very easy to clip the barrier on
the inside of the right-hander and crack a wheel or break the suspension. That’s
what caused Max Verstappen to miss qualifying in 2018 and Charles Leclerc to
not take up his pole position in 2021 (DTS S4:E3).
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HOUSE RULES
GOVERNING F1
Formula 1 rules are necessarily complex and sometimes arcane:
With high-performance cars circulating racetracks at speed, there’s
safety to consider and fairness to be maintained. There’s also the
matter of ten highly motivated teams staffed by clever and
innovative engineers, all determined to bend—if not break—those
regulations. In fact, given the high stakes, F1’s governing body,
Fédération Internationale de l’Automobile (FIA), sees fit to
maintain two rule books for the series.
Lewis Hamilton leads the Red Bulls at the 2021 Abu Dhabi Grand Prix
—a race that would end in no small amount of controversy and dash
Hamilton’s hopes for an eighth drivers’ title.
Two Books to Rule Them All
Gordon Murray
At Brabham in the 1970s and ’80s, South African–born Gordon Murray designed some
astoundingly quick and innovative race cars—as well as a couple that tested the limits
of the rules.
With the Brabham BT46B “fan car,” a rear-mounted fan in effect sucked the car
closer to the ground, increasing grip (the mechanical layout of the Alfa Romeo flat-
twelve engine prevented him from copying the underfloor aerodynamics of rivals).
Perhaps even more cleverly, he designed it in such a way that he could prove to
officials that the fan served an engine-cooling function, thereby circumventing the ban
on movable aerodynamic devices.
Later, with the Cosworth V-8-powered BT49C, Murray developed an ingenious
workaround for rules that insisted on a minimum ride height for the car. The clearance
was tested by using a wooden block that officials slid under the car: Murray built the
BT49C’s bodywork on a pneumatic strut that kept the outer shell at legal height when
the car was at rest. On track the aerodynamic forces pushed the bodywork down,
enabling the ground-effect channels within to work at maximum effect.
Gordon Murray (left) stands about 6-foot-4, while former Brabham
team owner Bernie Ecclestone is perhaps a foot shorter, yet both
are big guys in the Formula 1-O-Sphere. Murray is among the best
and most successful engineers and car designers ever, while
Ecclestone served many years as “F1 czar,” deserving much of the
credit for making F1 the multibillion-dollar international sport
and marketing machine that it is today.
It’ll surprise nobody that Gordon Murray’s Brabham “fan car” was
immediately controversial. Having won its first race it was
withdrawn, much to Murray’s chagrin, in the face of protests
from rival teams.
The “Bridge of Doom”
Every race weekend, the cars are checked for compliance with the rules at
the FIA weighbridge, known informally among the teams as “the bridge of
doom.” The process is more officially known as scrutineering: the teams are
responsible for proving their cars’ legality to a panel of experienced judges
led by the FIA’s Jo Bauer.
Some tests are simpler than others. Dimensional requirements of
various parts, including the width and height of the car, are proved (or
otherwise) by whether they fit in a box. Other tests are more precise, such
as those aimed at curbing flexible aerodynamic devices: specific loads are
applied to areas of the floor and the front and rear wings to make sure they
don’t deflect beyond a permitted tolerance (in 2021 the FIA also made
teams add graphics to their wings, which are continuously monitored on
track via high-speed cameras).
Since this is a sport where performance is dictated by marginal gains,
the difference between legality and illegality is often marginal. During the
2021 Brazilian Grand Prix weekend, Lewis Hamilton’s qualifying time was
canceled when the gap between his rear-wing elements was found to be 0.2
millimeters too large on one side when the DRS was open. The team said
two screws had fallen out.
Sometimes, the teams themselves take an active role in flushing out
cheats, if in a backhanded (some might say underhanded) manner. It’s
established precedent that teams run certain innovations by the FIA
technical director to parse their legality. Teams also use this procedure to
frustrate rivals they suspect of cheating because the FIA notifies all teams
of its decision via a “technical directive.”
For instance, Team A might suspect Team B is cheating by fitting a
sprung device to the front of their car’s floor. This device provides enough
resistance to enable the floor to pass the FIA’s deflection test, but then
deflects under the greater aerodynamic loads the car encounters while on
track, enabling the floor to deflect too. So Team A writes to the FIA,
mentioning no names, but saying they’re considering fitting such a system
to their car. Helpfully, they also include a technical diagram illustrating how
it might be done. The FIA responds by writing to all the teams saying that
no such system is permissible, and it will be tightening the testing
procedures to suit.
Sound far-fetched? It’s what McLaren did to Ferrari at the beginning of
the 2007 season.
Colin Chapman
Colin Chapman was what you might euphemistically call “an operator.” The Lotus team
founder established his business under a railway arch in North London in the 1950s
and quickly gained a reputation as an innovator. He was also someone with whom,
after shaking hands, you might take the precaution of checking your watch was still
attached.
A creator in his own right, Chapman employed some of the most talented engineers
in motor racing. His cars were fast, usually fragile, almost always cutting edge. In the
1960s the Lotus 25 led the way in monocoque construction (see chapter 2). Imagine
the ire of his customers who had bought spaceframe-chassis Lotus 24s on the
promise that they would be “mechanically identical” to the Team Lotus cars only to find
Chapman’s team wheeling out the far more advanced monocoque 25s.
The Lotus 78 and 79 popularized ground-effect aerodynamics in the late 1970s, but
other attempts to push the envelope—gas turbine engines, cars with twin chassis—
didn’t deliver the anticipated results. When Chapman died of a heart attack in 1982, he
was only months away from a potential jail sentence for his part in the DeLorean fraud.
The genius driver, Mario Andretti (left) and the genius engineer
and car builder, Lotus doyen Colin Chapman, conspired to earn
the World Driving Championship in 1978 with the advanced Lotus
79 Cosworth, which began setting the tone for the future
development of “ground effects” as a means of vehicular
downforce with minimal drag. Andretti had a rocky year with
Lotus in 1977, and despite Enzo Ferrari dangling an offer to
drive for the Scuderia in front of him, elected to stick with
Lotus and the promise of the new car. Good move, as it turned
out to be his magic carpet in F1.
F1 champion (and future Indy 500 winner) Jim Clark pilots the
cigar-like Lotus 25, a legendarily light F1 machine, at the 1964
Monaco Grand Prix.
It wasn’t the front and rear wings that made the Lotus 79 such
an innovative, and multiple race and ultimately 1978
championship winning machine; it’s the sidepods and under tray
that allowed air flow to literally suck the car to the ground.
This is Mario Andretti aboard his F1 championship ride.
In the early days of motor racing, grid positions were set by the drivers
drawing lots. Practice sessions were just that: practice.
During the prewar era, race promoters began to adopt a system of
determining the starting order based on who went quickest during practice.
By the time the world championship began in 1950, this had become
standard operating procedure.
From 1950 until 1995, the process of setting the grid gradually evolved
from taking each driver’s best time through practice to establishing two
separate sessions, one on Friday and one on Saturday, each dedicated
specifically to setting a time. From 1996 onward, F1 began to bend toward
the demands of the growing international TV audience, setting aside a
single hour on the Saturday afternoon of the race weekend in which each
driver had a determined number of laps in which to set a representative
time.
But this wasn’t good enough. While the principle of having an hour of
on-track action packaged for TV was sound, the idea wasn’t working out as
anticipated. The key problem was track evolution: Over the course of the
weekend, as more cars go round the track, they lay an ideal racing line of
nice grippy rubber. During qualifying, the big teams would sit and wait,
letting others do the work, until the final minutes of the session when the
track was theoretically offering more grip. Broadcasters grew increasingly
aggravated by the lack of on-track action and lobbied for change.
Through the 2000s, the FIA introduced a succession of tweaks in the
hope of ensuring consistent action through the qualifying hour while also
making the race itself more exciting. The one-lap format brought in for
2003 was another idea that sounded great in theory but was doomed to
failure. On Fridays the cars went out one-by-one to set a lap time that would
then determine the running order for Saturday. In that session, the slowest
driver from Friday again went first and everybody had to carry the amount
of fuel with which they planned to start the race. It should have been a win-
win: action throughout the hour, TV exposure for the smaller teams, the
opportunity to play strategy by running with a light fuel load to get a better
grid slot, and ever-present peril in case a driver makes a mistake.
About the worst thing that can happen in qualifying is to seriously
damage the car. This may mean that the car doesn’t post a
qualifying time and must start at the back of the pack or from the
pit lane. In any case, it represents a great deal of work for the
pit crew.
F1 drivers, such as Pierre Gasly in the blue shirt and blue jeans
are followed constantly by TV crews hoping to get a mini interview
or a great quote on the fly. The drivers and teams can love or hate
this reality, but it’s as much a part of today’s Formula 1 as gas,
oil, and tires.
Another change under Liberty Media’s ownership of F1 is that the
top three drivers in qualifying now stop in front of the main
grandstand to be interviewed in front of the fans.
The teams and drivers hated it, complaining that changing weather
conditions often made it unfair, and track evolution favored the cars running
later. It was tweaked for 2004 and then abandoned in 2005 for a system in
which grid positions were set on aggregate times from two different
sessions. This was hated so much it was abandoned six races into the
season, replaced by a one-shot session in which the running order was
determined by finishing positions in the previous race.
In 2006, the FIA rolled out the forerunner of the three-part elimination
format, which remains a fixture in grand prix weekends. The first two
sessions progressively eliminate the slower drivers until just ten remain in
the final shootout for pole. The situation was complicated by various rules
related to fuel levels until refueling was banned for 2010, enabling drivers
to run with minimal fuel throughout qualifying.
Apart from an ill-fated attempt to introduce eliminations every 90
seconds in 2016 (a format so widely reviled it was abandoned after two
rounds), qualifying remained broadly the same until 2021. Under Liberty
Media’s ownership, F1 has pivoted back toward giving race promoters more
opportunities to sell tickets, rather than prioritizing TV. Now a handful of
race weekends have qualifying on the Friday; this sets the grid for a short
sprint race on Saturday that determines the starting order of Sunday’s grand
prix.
It remains a work in progress . . .
Anatomy of a Blunder: Abu Dhabi 2021
Much rancour ensued and lingered well after the DTS cameras had
stopped rolling. An official FIA investigation described the events of the
final laps as “human error,” though Masi had “acted in good faith.” As well
as introducing reworded rules and procedures, the governing body removed
Masi from his post.
Grin and bear it. Verstappen and Hamilton muster up a semi-smile
and a handshake after one of the most hotly contest, and
contentious, F1 championship finales in history. It certainly
couldn’t have been easy for Lewis Hamilton, as he lost this
particular battle and the 2021 season’s title war.
It was this close as Verstappen pips Hamilton with a final pass at
the 2021 season ender in Abu Dhabi.
Rule Keepers
Charlie Whiting
As chief mechanic at Brabham, Charlie Whiting worked with one of the most creative
engineers in the business—Gordon Murray—and knew all the tricks teams played with
the rules. After Bernie Ecclestone sold the team and moved full-time into
superintending F1’s commercial rights, he arranged for Whiting to take a job as the
FIA’s technical delegate, presiding over the legality of all the cars in competition and
keeping the technical rule book up to date. In 1997 he became the race director and
safety delegate, as well as the individual in charge of starting each race. It was Whiting
who decided to change to the present start-light system. After years of noting from his
trackside perch that drivers weren’t waiting for the green lights to come on, but were
anticipating when the red lights went out, he realized the green lights were pointless.
The length of time between the row of five lights switching on completely and then
going off is now randomized.
Whiting suffered a fatal pulmonary embolism three days before the 2019 Australian
Grand Prix.
The late Charlie Whiting smiles big aboard a Mercedes-AMG SLS F1
safety car. He was more than well equipped to act as the FIA’s
chief rules gatekeeper, given his previous experience a chief
mechanic at Brabham F1, under the clever and innovative Gordon
Murray. Over time he also served as an F1 race director, safety
delegate, and official starter.
Rule Benders
Double Diffusers
Changes for the 2009 season sought to reduce overall downforce levels with a view to
improving overtaking. The FIA even set up an Overtaking Working Group involving the
teams to formulate these rules. What wasn’t known at the time was that three parties
at the table had found a way of “legally” flouting the rules they were helping to create.
Among the new regulations was a limitation on the size of diffusers, the shaped
venturi on the floor between the rear wheels. These work by accelerating airflow
through the area, generating a low-pressure zone below the car. Curtailing their size
therefore cuts potential downforce (in theory).
The rules were phrased poorly, describing how any intersecting surfaces should
form “one continuous line which is visible from beneath the car.” This meant the
diffuser, which is a three-dimensional form, needed to be legal in only one dimension.
Three teams spotted the loophole and exploited it by fitting their diffusers with a
second deck that considerably expanded its effective volume. Toyota even fitted a
third deck during the season.
Other teams disputed the legality of these designs, but they were allowed to
continue, only being banned at the end of the season.
image
Rear wing and diffuser designs are closely watched and measured
by F1’s scrutineers as this is an area where teams have
purposely, or accidentally, cheated the rules in the past. This
is the 2022 season McLaren MCL36.
An inordinate amount of time and effort goes into policing F1
aerodynamic devices; unfortunately for the FIA, there was for a
time an ambiguously worded rules passage that gave teams
considerable bandwidth to “optimize” their rear wings and
diffusers—not overtly blatant cheating, but enough of a brouhaha
to initiate a rewording of the technical rules at the end of the
2009 season, to fully clarify the intent and wording of the
rule.
Rule Benders
Postrace, F1 cars are weighed with their fuel tanks empty to ensure they meet the
minimum weight limit and that teams haven’t been using fuel as ballast.
The 2005 San Marino Grand Prix had a peculiar aftermath: BAR driver Jenson
Button, who had finished third, was deleted from the results when his car was found to
be 5 kilograms underweight after the race. The scrutineers had located and drained a
mysterious auxiliary fuel tank before weighing the car.
While BAR managed to get this decision overturned on a technicality, the FIA
launched an investigation and decided the device represented a clear attempt to run
the car below the weight limit during the race, then ballast it up to the correct figure
before going on the weighbridge. The team was stripped of its Imola points and
banned for two races.
image
Jenson Button aboard his BAR Honda F1 machine at San Marino in
2005, when the team was caught running an illegal fuel tank
device and stripped of its points and given a two—race
suspension.
image
In a similar dodge to BAR-Honda’s illegal fuel tank, the Tyrrell
team ran their 012 car underweight during the 1984 season,
adding lead ballast during late-race pit stops under the pretext
of topping up engine coolant. While this wasn’t specifically
forbidden, the team were thrown out of the world championship
anyway on the trumped-up charge of using illegal fuel additives.
Chapter 6
MONEY GAME
THE BUSINESS OF F1
Money makes the Formula 1 world go round. But there hasn’t
always been enough of it to go around. The battle between the
teams to secure the money to go racing is almost as intense as the
action on track—and sometimes it’s a fight just to stay in
business . . .
We don’t know for sure if the cost of Pierre Gasly’s pair of 2019
preseason practice crashes cost him his seat on the front line Red
Bull squad, prompting his reassignment to the sister AlphaTauri
team; no matter, it worked out well enough for both sides of the
equation, as Red Bull went on to win the F1 title in 2021 and Gasly
bagged his first F1 win aboard an AlphaTauri.
If You’re Not First, You’re Last
“Finishing seventh, eighth, ninth has no value to us.” Red Bull team
principal Christian Horner’s words during S2:E5 of Drive to Survive are
considered so important to the narrative that they’re repeated during the
following episode. And they carry a fundamental truth about modern
Formula 1: Results have a direct effect on a team’s earnings.
Only the top ten finishers in each grand prix score points. At the end of
the season a portion of F1’s commercial revenues is divided up among the
teams according to their position in the constructors’ championship, with
the majority shares going to those further up. The differences between those
finishing positions can be counted in tens of millions of dollars.
The cost of competition is staggering. Elsewhere in that Drive to
Survive episode, “Great Expectations,” Horner puts the cost of Pierre
Gasly’s two crashes during preseason testing at $2 million. For a team of
Red Bull’s size and resources, that is a mere dent—what exercised Horner
more greatly was that the crashes left his team short on spares at an
important point of the season.
Throughout the existence of the world championship, the competitive
picture of F1 has been bent out of shape by economic inequalities. Aside
from a few high-profile exceptions, the wealthiest teams generally produce
the best cars and can afford to hire the fastest drivers. The most successful
teams also attract the juiciest sponsorship deals on top of whatever they
earn from the prize fund. While IT company Cognizant is believed to pay
around $30 million a season to sponsor the mid-grid Aston Martin, the
chemicals giant Ineos took a 33 percent stake in multiple world champions
Mercedes in a transaction estimated to be over $800 million.
The frontrunners also amass enough political influence to protect their
own interests.
Betting and bookmaking are the least of the money issues
underpinning Formula 1. The costs of running a team is high, as are
the costs of operating an F1 racing circuit–TV contracts and team
sponsorships ring up some of the biggest dollars in sports and
business marketing.
While running in the tenth position on track might satisfy lesser
F1 teams, such a finishing placement means nothing to today’s top
line teams like Mercedes-AMG, Ferrari, and Red Bull.
Since 2021 all F1 teams have had to operate within a budget cap,
initially set at $145 million per year. Reaching a consensus on this was a
painfully drawn-out process: The smaller teams wanted it set lower because
they weren’t earning enough to spend that much, while the money-no-
object organizations at the front of the grid fought against the entire
principle because it meant making painful cuts. It was the economic
circumstances of the pandemic that drove a final agreement to disagree.
Three teams nearly went bust and even Liberty Media, who paid $4.6
billion for F1’s commercial rights in 2017, had to resort to a little financial
engineering to keep its shareholders happy. A compromise was found in the
form of a new Concorde Agreement (see here), which distributed income
more fairly and enshrined the principle of the budget cap. Rather than let
talented staff go, Red Bull and Mercedes transferred people to newly
established advanced technology businesses, which offered engineering
services for hire; Ferrari seconded many of their staff to their closely
aligned engine customers, Haas and Alfa Romeo. Crisis averted.
Liberty Media’s next task is to adapt to the changing circumstances of
the global market. The previous regime led by Bernie Ecclestone brought in
huge sums of cash, amounting to around 70 percent of total revenue, from
two major sources: TV rights and race sanctioning fees. The Chinese
government, for instance, spent $240 million constructing its circuit in
Shanghai (which was built on reclaimed swampland and rests on over
40,000 concrete piles sunk into the ground) and reportedly paid $50 million
per year for the privilege of hosting a race. These are unsustainable sums,
well beyond what an ordinary business (e.g., a professional race promoter)
could afford. And while the well of countries wanting to put themselves on
the global sporting map in this way is starting to run low, F1 still hasn’t
quite hit bottom: Azerbaijan, Qatar, and Saudi Arabia recently signed up to
$55 million deals. Ecclestone left a tangled mess of arrangements that
Liberty is working through—Monaco, for instance, is believed to pay just
$15 million per year and retains the very lucrative rights to trackside
advertising. But Liberty has also shown it’s willing to bend if the market is
important enough—to have new GPs in the USA, in Miami and Las Vegas,
Liberty effectively went into partnership with the race promoters.
Likewise, that other Ecclestone-era cash cow, TV rights, faces a
potentially turbulent future as more viewers cut the cord and embrace
streaming services. F1’s migration to pay-TV platforms in the past couple
of decades came at a cost in terms of audience growth, but it raked in huge
sums. Liberty’s most lucrative contract is the deal to broadcast to the UK;
Sky TV emerged victorious from a bidding war in 2019, agreeing to pay
$255 million per year until 2024. The company has its own channel devoted
to F1 and sends a huge cast of personnel to each grand prix, including
expert pundits such as 1996 world champion Damon Hill and 2009
champion Jenson Button. Liberty has established its own streaming
platform, F1 TV, but has had to tread carefully (and geo-lock it in certain
territories) to avoid alienating some major sources of income.
Having funded the acquisition of the commercial rights through debt,
Liberty has to keep expanding the F1 business to bring more money in.
That means more races, more competition for trackside signage—and,
given its role in popularizing F1 in the USA, more seasons of Drive to
Survive.
One other thing is for sure: The teams will want their share of whatever
rewards come from that growth. In an environment where costs are capped
but income isn’t and challengers are effectively barred from entry (under
the latest Concorde Agreement, any team wanting to join the grid must pay
a $200 million fee), teams are in charge of their commercial destiny almost
as never before. Little wonder McLaren CEO Zak Brown has said that by
the end of the 2020s teams will have become billion-dollar franchises.
McLaren CEO Zak Brown believes F1 teams will have become multi
billion dollar franchises by the end of the 2020s under the new
commercial arrangements. None of them have got there yet . . .
Cash Is King
Drive to Survive likes to side with the underdog. In the first series it juxtaposes Force
India/Racing Point teammates Esteban Ocon and Sergio Pérez as they fight to retain
their seats, the implication being that Pérez emerges the unworthy winner purely
because he brings sponsorship, whereas the talented but penniless Ocon doesn’t. But
there isn’t necessarily an inverse relationship between money and talent (indeed, DTS
is highly economical with the truth—Ocon was in Mercedes’ junior driver program and
got his place with Force India as part of a deal in which they received Mercedes
engines at a discount).
In August 1991 nobody would have picked Michael Schumacher as a future seven-
time world champion. Sure, he was quick in a Mercedes sportscar, but so were his
teammates. It took $150,000 of Mercedes cash to get him into F1.
The Jordan team (now racing as Aston Martin, several changes of owner later) had
a hole to fill and bills to pay. Despite performing remarkably well in their maiden year,
they were behind on payments to several creditors (including engine supplier
Cosworth). And one of their drivers was on his way to jail after spraying a London taxi
driver with CS gas, or tear gas, during a road-rage incident.
So there were plenty of items competing for priority on team boss Eddie Jordan’s
to-do list, right after the big one of how to tell the sponsors. Jordan had picked up
several points finishes in recent races and stood to earn a share of F1’s commercial
revenues through placing well in the constructors’ championship at the end of the year.
But Eddie needed money immediately. So who to recruit—a veteran who would perhaps
be more likely to rack up points, but who would want to be paid, or a rookie who would
pay for the privilege of driving?
The short-term need for cold, hard cash won out. Jordan took Mercedes’ $150,000
and the rest is history. Schumacher qualified seventh for the Belgian Grand Prix, only to
break his clutch at the start, but he’d done enough to attract attention. Sadly for
Jordan, in the rush to get the deal done in time for Spa, certain contractual details were
left up in the air—and Schumacher found himself driving a Benetton next time out. F1
ringmaster Bernie Ecclestone, spotting Schumacher’s potential to energize the German
audience, orchestrated the move from a team closer to the front of the grid.
McLaren boss Ron Dennis commiserated with the disconsolate Eddie Jordan,
saying, “Welcome to the Piranha Club.”
“Power couple” Bernie Ecclestone and Michael Schumacher ruled
Formula 1 for a generation. Ecclestone has given up his position
as one of F1’s most influential ringmasters, and seven-time F1
champ Schumacher is retired.
The contract between the teams, F1, and the FIA is top secret. It takes its
name not from the supersonic passenger aircraft but from the location
where the first agreement was thrashed out over the course of a touchy day-
long session in January 1981: the FIA’s headquarters on the Place de la
Concorde in Paris, France.
Control over F1’s rules and its commercial arrangements was at stake.
On one side was the FIA’s sporting committee and its president, Jean-Marie
Balestre; on the other, the Formula One Constructors’ Association (FOCA),
a body representing the majority of privately owned teams and led by
Brabham owner Bernie Ecclestone and his legal advisor, Max Mosley.
FOCA felt it received an unfairly small share of the commercial proceeds of
F1, and that the FIA kept making up rules on the fly, which favored the big
manufacturer teams. The ongoing dispute had led to boycotts and races
either being cancelled or declared ineligible for championship points. It was
beginning to make F1 uninvestable, and key sponsors and suppliers were
wavering.
Imagine watching Drive to Survive and seeing entire teams randomly
appear and disappear between episodes.
Among the key concessions of the first Concorde Agreement was the
granting of the TV rights to FOCA, initially under a short lease agreement.
Until this point TV coverage had been piecemeal, because broadcasters
weren’t necessarily interested in F1 and promoters feared the effects on
ticket sales. But under the new contract, teams agreed to compete in every
race on the calendar or face being thrown out of the championship. This
gave Ecclestone a stable package to offer broadcasters—and, being a gifted
dealmaker, he made the most of it.
What had initially seemed to be the crumbs brushed from the
commercial table became a veritable goldmine. In subsequent years,
Ecclestone would step away from team ownership, FOCA would morph
into the commercial entity we know today as the Formula One Group, and
the amount to which Ecclestone was enriching himself became increasingly
contentious. In the mid-1990s, with Mosley now FIA president and
seemingly working hand-in-glove with Ecclestone, teams began to object—
especially when it was revealed Ecclestone had transferred the commercial
rights to a trust in his wife’s name, protected from scrutiny by a Russian
doll network of offshore companies.
For a time, this was the FIA, F1, and the FOCA’s power triumvirate
(from left): Jean Marie Balestre, Max Mosley, and Bernie
Ecclestone.
In motorsport circles there’s a cliché that is no less true for being oft repeated: the
quickest way to make a small fortune in motor racing is to start off with a large one.
Money alone is no guarantee of success: it’s not just what you have, but how you
spend it.
Toyota spent eight seasons in F1 without a single victory to its name despite
employing several high-profile drivers and engineers. In fact, Toyota was so desperate
to poach Renault technical director Mike Gascoyne in 2003 that it included use of a
private jet in the deal so he could commute to work at the team’s base in Cologne,
Germany, without moving home from the UK. When Gascoyne’s tenure ended, his tale
was a familiar one of constant interference from big-corporation apparatchiks with no
understanding of motor racing. During his final months there, he kept a radio-controlled
model tank in his office with a functional cap gun, which he used to fire at corporate
functionaries he didn’t like.
While the Ford Motor Company’s dalliances with F1 haven’t been uniformly
disastrous—they bankrolled development of the Cosworth V-8 engine, which
democratized power from the 1960s through to the early 1990s—its acquisition of a
team ranks among F1’s most humiliating failures. As with Toyota, it is a tale of
pointless profligacy, corporate hubris, and a revolving door of senior managers best
summed up by one infamous quotation.
Ford bought the Stewart team at the end of 1999 and rebranded it as Jaguar
Racing, a pure marketing exercise for one of FoMoCo’s luxury brands. Stewart had won
a grand prix, but, over the course of the next five seasons, Jaguar failed to come close
to matching that achievement despite taking on the same facilities and staff (many of
whom left or were driven out in various corporate coups).
Late in 2001, against a background of declining market share and high-profile
lawsuits relating to tire failures on the Explorer model, William Clay Ford Jr., great-
grandson of the founder, became the chief executive with a mandate to make massive
cost cuts. A look at the payroll revealed the name of an individual who was being paid
$10 million a year to do . . . Ford knew not what.
Eddie Irvine, former teammate of Michael Schumacher, was Jaguar
Racing’s lead driver and one of Ford’s highest-paid employees.
And his ultimate boss didn’t know who he was or what he did.
The usually animated, yet in this photo quite pensive, Irish F1
and sports car racer Eddie Irvine ably withstood the pressure of
being Michael Schumacher’s Ferrari teammate and won four Grands
Prix in his own right.
Bargaining Power
Before F1’s revenues were dispensed from a central pot, it was up to teams
to negotiate their rewards with individual race promoters. While prize
money was usually billed publicly and well in advance, starting money—in
effect an appearance fee—was different for every entrant, and usually
depended on their box-office potential. Famous names enabled the
promoters to sell more tickets, after all.
That began to change as F1 races became more widely televised in the
1960s and ’70s, and Bernie Ecclestone in effect unionized the teams to
negotiate as a block. Ecclestone, a former motorcycle dealer, had been in
and out of motor racing as a driver manager and wheeler-dealer before
buying the Brabham team in 1971. He formed the Formula One
Constructors’ Association (FOCA) to push for better deals, uniting the
predominantly British-based teams who built their own chassis and ran
virtually identical Ford-Cosworth V-8 engines. Manufacturer teams and the
likes of Enzo Ferrari were sometimes allied, sometimes not, depending on
the prevailing political winds. The advent of the Concorde Agreement (see
here) brought relative stability and set F1 on the way to its present form as a
TV spectacle with a consistent set of entrants from race to race.
Bernie Ecclestone’s efforts effectively allowed smaller private
teams to negotiate as a block with larger works teams. Here two of
those smaller teams, Williams and Ecclestone’s Brabham, run one-two
at the U.S. Grand Prix West in 1981, the year of the Concorde
Agreement.
Cash Is King
Racing drivers are as competitive with each other over money as they are over who is
fastest on track. Some rely on their managers to negotiate, others employ companies
to look after their affairs, while some relish the challenge of a hard negotiation as
much as they’d look forward to going wheel-to-wheel with a key rival on track.
The saga of Ayrton Senna’s bitter rivalry with McLaren teammate Alain Prost in the
late 1980s has become legendary. Less well-known are the circumstances behind
Senna’s move to that team in the first place. He knew they had the best car. McLaren
boss Ron Dennis knew Senna couldn’t resist the opportunity. And yet neither of them
could agree on Senna’s salary. The difference between what Senna wanted per year
and what Dennis was willing to pay was a not-insignificant sum: $500,000.
Desperate to resolve the impasse but unwilling—perhaps for his own ego-related
reasons—to concede ground, Dennis suggested they flip a coin. Senna’s limited grasp
of English meant he couldn’t understand the concept of “heads or tails” until it was
written down; in fact, they spent a further 5 minutes refining the protocol of the coin
flip, right down to what would happen if it got landed on its side in the office’s deep-pile
carpet. Dennis won the toss—and only then remembered they were agreeing on a
three-year contract.
The coin flip had been worth $1.5 million.
THINK FAST
F1 STRATEGY
Often talked about, but little understood, F1 strategy is an exercise
in managing complexity and risk, and juggling different
probabilities. At the beginning of a race, anything can happen; in
the closing stages, all the different permutations converge toward a
single outcome. The winner is often the team that makes the best
calls under changing circumstances.
F1 pit stops are an explosive display of color and motion. The car
needs to enter the correct pit box, come to a full stop, be jacked
into the air, and have all four tires changed, in fewer than 2.5
seconds. This is possible because F1 currently doesn’t require
refueling, which has come and gone from the F1 pit formula before.
Any additional repairs or aerodynamic adjustments generally add to
the desired low to mid 2-second stop time. A bungled tire change
can, and has, cost any given team the difference between a win and
a midpack finish.
It Starts with Data
Drive to Survive loves the drama of pit stops but shies away from the
granular detail of strategy. That’s partly because the program makers feel
the subject may be too complex for casual viewers, but also because even
though teams are more open with the DTS crew than any other media,
strategic operations remain top secret.
Every F1 car carries a GPS tracker and around 300 sensors that monitor
everything from suspension movement and g-forces to the engine’s health
and how hard the driver is pushing the brake pedal. All this data—up to
three or four gigabytes during a race—is transmitted back to the pit wall
and then on to the factory, where the leading teams have special rooms
staffed by math specialists who help make strategic calls on the fly. F1 also
has trackside sensors, which it uses to augment the TV coverage with live
data and strategic predictions made by its partner, Amazon Web Services.
Each turn of the wheel adds fidelity to strategic models the teams have
been building since before they arrived at the circuit. Back at the factory,
every team has a “driver-in-the-loop” simulator room where they evaluate
the effect on lap time of different mechanical setups (ride height,
suspension stiffness, wing settings, and so on), and start to get a handle on
how long the tires might last based on performance data. At the track, they
build on that data set by observing whether the virtual testing is reflected in
real life. The key questions are: How fast can we go, and for how long,
before the tires wear out or degrade?
Based on this information, the strategists build potential scenarios of
how many pit stops they’re likely to make, and when, and how they might
respond to what rivals do. All these scenarios are underpinned by data
because gambling on outcomes is viewed as fundamentally bad practice,
even if the outcome is successful.
The team’s computerized telemetry readouts are custom for every
race and every track. They provide a dizzying amount of real-time
data, able to let the team (and driver) know if their race is
proceding according to the strategy plan or not, and guiding
adjustments as needed.
The job of team managers and strategists isn’t to watch the race or
the track; it’s to monitor the real-time data flow from the car and
the driver’s track position and performance in order to craft a
winning strategy.
A bad day for Mercedes, but one that looks worse in hindsight.
Something similar could be said for McLaren, which lost an opportunity to
put Carlos Sainz on the podium by not pitting him for slicks during the final
safety car deployment. He finished fifth, leapfrogged by Toro Rosso’s
Daniil Kvyat and Racing Point’s Lance Stroll, who did take on slicks
behind the safety car.
While this made Toro Rosso and Racing Point’s strategists look
supersharp, it was a huge gamble because the weather radar (and the sky)
suggested more rain was imminent. As it was, reporters purringly described
it as “an inspired gamble.” Had the heavens opened at that point, hindsight
would have judged the call more harshly.
Mercedes flagellated themselves after the race, but much of what
happened was a matter of luck. Verstappen went relatively unpunished for
spinning and stopping again, since he didn’t damage his car, while
Hamilton did—and then brought more problems upon himself by missing
the pit entry and catching his team unprepared.
The point that can be lost on viewers of a TV show with a narrative arc
is that races never pan out exactly as planned because random events get in
the way. That’s why strategists rate the quality of their decisions according
to what they knew at the time, and why they generally react to rain rather
than trying to preempt its arrival. Wet-weather tires wear out fast on a dry
surface. The “crossover point”—when a track is just about dry enough for
slick tires—is tough to predict, and usually based on driver feel rather than
hard data. Like trying to time the stock market, you only hit the perfect
moment by accident—but you look very clever if you do.
Members of the Haas team prepare tires before a race. There are
three specs of tire available for each race, now simply labeled
soft, medium, and hard. In theory the softest has the most grip but
the shortest life.
In keeping with the idea that the winner is the driver who covers the race
distance in the shortest possible time, pit stops need to be as short as
possible. Time spent dawdling in the pits is time wasted.
In the early days of grand prix racing and the world championship,
equipment was so primitive that teams and drivers preferred to avoid
stopping at all unless the car needed fuel or tires or the driver needed a
drink (more common than you might think in the days when races could last
3 hours or more). Minutes could be wasted jacking the car up and removing
wheels, or sloshing fuel into the tank with a huge can and a funnel. Even as
late as the 1970s, pit stops weren’t exactly leisurely, but they lacked
choreography.
The Brabham team put tactical pit stops on the table in 1982 when they
began factoring a midrace fuel stop into their plans, believing a lighter car
could run faster. It all hinged on whether time gained through running light
outweighed time lost in the pits. Clearly it worked—they won the world
championship in ’83 and were competitive in ’82—but the practice was
banned for the 1984 season because of the risk of fire.
Ready and waiting; at this point, the driver must hit his marks and
stop perfectly within his pit box for all the hands and equipment
to have proper access to the car.
Today’s pitside wheel gun is a highly sophisticated piece of
equipment; a far cry from the days when tires used to be changed
with a hammer beating on a knockoff central wheel nut. The gun not
only does the tire job, but notifies a monitoring system when its
job is done for that stop.
image
Strategy in Action
Pit Games
One of the most basic strategic plays is the “undercut,” used to great effect by Ferrari
in the early 2000s: Your driver pits first, then is fast enough on their first lap out of the
pits to leapfrog their rival for position when they make their stop. The opposite of this
is the “overcut,” where your driver pits later and is faster during the crucial lap where
their rival leaves the pits. Success or failure with these tactics depends on several
factors: for instance, time spent delayed by other cars, pit stop mishaps, how out-of-
shape the old tires are, and how long the new ones take to come up to working
temperature.
image
Given that every pit crew member is protected with a full racing
style fire suit, shoes, anda helmet, it’s hard to imagine that
in the past, some pit crews wore short sleeve shirts, short
pants, and no helmet–even during the eras of refuelling.
image
F1 pit stops are literally a blur of action as the team swarms the
car; each player has a very specific part, and these stops are
practiced hundreds of times in order to get them right and save
every nanosecond possible.
image
Strategy in Action
Drive to Survive likes its on-track action uncomplicated and leaves nuances such as
strategy and tire choice for specialist media to explain. One example of this stripped-
back storytelling is its presentation of the battle between McLaren’s Carlos Sainz and
Renault’s Daniel Ricciardo in S2:E3, “Dogfight.” Ricciardo passes Sainz on track. Both
pit at the same time. Sainz passes Ricciardo and goes on to finish four places ahead.
Boom!
There’s a little more to it than that. Ricciardo was faster in qualifying than Sainz and
started behind him only because of a three-place grid penalty for an incident with
Daniil Kvyat in Baku. When Ricciardo and Sainz pitted together, Sainz had medium-
compound tires fitted while Ricciardo went with hard-compound Pirellis, which take
longer to warm up. Hence the ease with which Sainz goes by. One shot in the montage
shows Sainz on soft-compound tires later in the race, the kind of detail that enrages
some F1 fans (tire compound can be identified by the color of the stripe on the tire
wall).
The two drivers then ran closely until the safety car was deployed after Ricciardo’s
next pit stop. Sainz stopped while the safety car was on-track and his rivals were
running slower, which gained him a position while Ricciardo lost one—and then got
stuck behind his teammate.
Too much detail? You decide . . .
image
Strategy in Action
Around pit stop time you’ll often hear a driver’s engineer suggesting they will do the
opposite of what the driver ahead does. If they pit, you stay out; if they stay out, you
pit.The imperative for the leading driver to maintain track position gives the following
driver a potential tactical advantage, especially at circuits whose configuration make
the undercut effect powerful. The most potent example of how the following driver can
seize the moment came in the controversial finale to the 2021 race season at Abu
Dhabi (DTS S4:E10). Lewis Hamilton was leading Max Verstappen when the safety car
was deployed with a handful of laps remaining. Hamilton couldn’t pit without giving up
track position—if he did, Verstappen would stay out. So Verstappen pitted instead,
fitting fresh tires—which gave him a decisive edge when the track went green.
image
Jargon Buster
Delta
Perhaps one of F1’s most infuriatingly pompous technical terms, “delta” simply refers
to a time difference. It’s generally used to describe the differences in potential lap
times achievable by the three tire compounds available at each race, the difference
between the lap times of two cars, or the gap between cars on track. During virtual
safety car periods, drivers must stick to a set lap time (slower than racing speed) and
the screens on their steering wheels will tell them whether they are “delta positive” or
“delta negative,” slower or faster, respectively, than the prescribed speed.
image
Jargon Buster
Tire Offset
Tire offset is a difference in performance caused by a) the relative age of the tires in
terms of laps completed or b) the types of tire compounds. Establishing tire offset is a
popular way of gaining a strategic advantage. Teams do this at the start of the race by
fitting a different compound than other cars, or they build it during the race by stopping
at different times than immediate rivals either to achieve less wear or to fit an
alternative tire compound.
image
image AROUND PIT STOP TIME YOU’LL OFTEN HEAR A DRIVER’S
ENGINEER SUGGESTING THEY WILL DO THE OPPOSITE OF WHAT THE
DRIVER AHEAD DOES.”
Index
Page numbers in italics indicate an item in a photograph or caption.
Ecclestone, Bernie, 54, 68, 71, 116, 142, 152, 155–156, 158, 159, 162, 176
Elliott, Mike, 16
Ellis, Mark, 19
energy storage, 94
engines, 88–90, 92, 94–95, 161
Ericsson, Marcus, 178
ExxonMobil, 91
Fagioli, Luigi, 34
Fangio, Juan Manuel, 36–37, 78, 114
Fédération Internationale de l’Automobile (FIA), 56, 62, 66–67, 91, 106,
112
Concorde Agreement and, 152, 156, 158, 162
grid position qualifying and, 134, 137
regulations of, 14, 125–126, 128–129, 138, 144
scrutineering and, 130
Ferrari 156, 40
Ferrari 640, 58
Ferrari engines, 90
Ferrari, Enzo, 40, 58, 77, 132
Ferrari F1-75, 70–71
Ferrari F2004, 62
Force India/Racing Point, 155
Ford, Henry, II, 44
Ford Motor Company, 44, 161
Ford, William Clay, Jr., 161
Formula 1 circuit features
130R (Suzuka), 105
Eau Rouge/Raidillon (Spa-Francorchamps), 104
Grand Hotel Hairpin (Monaco), 119
Maggotts-Becketts-Chapel (Silverstone), 120
Peraltada (Autódromo Hermanos Rodríguez), 100
The Swimming Pool (Monaco), 123
Formula 1 circuits
Brands Hatch, 114
characteristics of great, 110
creation of, 102, 106
Monaco, 38, 99, 178
Monza, 109–110
Nivelles-Baulers, 114
permanent, 98–99
Reims-Gueux, 114
retirement of, 114–116
Sepang, 116
Silverstone, 110, 114
Sochi Autodrom, 110
Spa Francorchamp, 102, 110, 114
Suzuka, 110, 112
Yas Marina, 110
Formula 1 teams
chief strategists, 172
headquarters, 80–83
heads of engineering, 19
number-one mechanics, 22
physios, 24
race engineers, 20
scrutineering process and, 130
team managers, 14
team principals, 8, 12
technical directors, 16
Formula One Constructors’ Association (FOCA), 54, 156, 158, 162
Formula One Group, 158
“Freddo-gate,” 12
French Grand Prix (1954), 37
fuel, 91, 146–147
fuel tanks, 146
Gachot, Betrand, 63
Gardner, Derek, 46
Gascoyne, Mike, 161
Gasly, Pierre, 112, 148–149, 150
German Grand Prix (2019), 174–175
grid positions, 134, 137
Grosjean, Romain, 106, 109
ground effect, 50, 54, 86, 133
Ineos, 150
Irvine, Ed, 160–161
Jabouille, Jean-Pierre, 49
Jaguar Racing, 161
Japanese Grand Prix (2014), 112
Jordan (Mercedes) team, 155
Jordan, Eddie, 63, 155
Komatsu, Ayao, 19
Kvyat, Daniil, 175
Lambiase, Giampero, 20
Latifi, Nicholas, 138
Lauda, Niki, 29
Leberer, Josef, 27
Leclerc, Charles, 112, 123, 174
Liberty Media, 71, 137, 152, 158
Lotus 25, 42–43, 133
Lotus 49, 44
Lotus 72, 48
Lotus 79, 50, 132
Luthi, Joachim, 166
Magnussen, Kevin, 19
Mansell, Nigel, 60, 100
Masi, Michael, 126, 138, 140
Mateschitz, Dietrich, 29
Matra, 46
McCullough, Tom, 19
McEvoy, Jonathan, 12
McLaren MP4/1, 52
McLaren MP4/4, 17, 56
McLaren’s MP4-23, 64–65
McLaren team, 12, 13, 29, 65, 172, 175
McNish, Allan, 105
Meadows, Ron, 14
Mercedes, 37, 68, 81, 90
Mercedes-Benz W196, 78
Mercedes F1 W05, 68
Mercedes team, 8, 14, 19, 24, 29, 81, 150, 152, 155, 174–175
Mercedes W196, 37
Monaco Grand Prix, 99
money
betting and, 150
budget caps, 152
cost controls and, 80, 83
Drive to Survive and, 152
finishing position and, 150
Formula One Group and, 158
political influence and, 150, 152
race sanctioning and, 152
Senna and, 164
sponsorship and, 44, 150, 155, 166
TV rights and, 152, 156
Moneytron, 166
monocoque principle, 78
Mosley, Max, 66, 68, 84, 156, 158, 159
Moss, Stirling, 37, 38, 40
Motor Generator Unit–Heat (MGU-H), 94–95
Motor Generator Unit–Kinetic (MGU-K), 94–95
Murray, Gordon, 17, 54, 56, 129, 142
race engineers, 20
racesuits, 41
Rahal, Bobby, 60
Räikkönen, Kimi, 20
Ratzenberger, Roland, 128
Red Bull Racing team, 8, 14, 16, 19, 29, 30, 68, 80, 88, 90, 150, 152, 174
Red Bull RB9, 66–67
refueling, 180–182
Renault, 66–68, 88, 90
Renault RS01, 49
RenaultSport, 8, 30
Reutemann, Carlos, 17
Ricciardo, Daniel, 12, 88, 184
Rich Energy, 166
Rolex, 69
Russell, George, 24
safety
accidents and, 108–109, 112, 126, 128, 138, 140
circuit design and, 106
FIA regulations and, 126, 128
safety/medical car and, 109, 128
Sainz, Carlos, 175, 184
Salmela, Pyry, 24
San Marino Grand Prix (1994), 57
Schumacher, Michael, 62–63, 155
Scuderia Ferrari, 23, 32–33, 65, 80, 182
secret fuel tanks, 146
Seidl, Andreas, 12, 13
semi-automatic gearshift, 58, 60
Senna, Ayrton, 56–57, 100, 128, 164–165
Shell, 91
Shovlin, Andrew, 19
Simpson, Bill, 41
Singh, Randeep, 172
Slade, Mark, 20
sponsorship, 44, 150, 155, 166
start-light system, 142
Steiner, Guenther, 19
Stevenson, Lee, 22
Stewart, Jackie, 46, 69, 108
strategy
chief strategists, 172
data collection and, 170, 172
doing the opposite, 184
pit stops, 169, 180–182
simplifying the complex, 184
tire offset, 185
tires and, 49, 174–176, 184–185
track position and, 178
Stroll, Lance, 175
Szisz, Ferenc, 74, 76
team managers, 14
team principals, 8, 12
technical directors, 16
Tilke, Hermann, 110
tires, 49, 174–176, 184–185
Todt, Jean, 15, 62, 68
Tombazis, Nicholas, 126
Toyota team, 161
track position, 178
traction control, 60, 79, 126
Tsunoda, Yuki, 24
turbochargers, 94
turbo engines, 49, 56
TV rights, 152, 156, 162
Tyrrell 001, 46–47
Tyrrell, Ken, 46, 69
Urwin, James, 20
LAT Images: 4, Mark Sutton; 9b, Glenn Dunbar; 26, Steve Etherington;
27, Sutton Images; 31, Charles Coates; 32, Carl Bingham; 34; 35, Steve
Etherington; 36, Rainer Schlegelmilch; 37; 38; 39, David Phipps; 40; 41,
Rainer Schlegelmilch; 42, David Phipps; 44; 45; 46, David Phipps; 48; 49,
David Phipps; 50, David Phipps; 51, David Phipps; 52; 54; 56, Sutton
Images; 58, Rainer Schlegelmilch; 60; 61, Andy Hone; 62, Sutton Images;
63; 64, Sutton Images; 66, Patrik Lundin; 68, Daniel Kalisz; 69, Sutton
Images; 94, Rainer Schlegelmilch; 95b, Giorgio Piola; 105, Peter Nygard;
147, Sutton Images; 174, Jerry Andre.
Acknowledgments
Thanks to everyone who has helped bring this book to fruition: the tag team
of my editor, Dennis Pernu, and project manager, Brooke Pelletier, for their
enthusiasm and patience (the latter sorely tested); and Box To Box films,
whose endlessly entertaining show has opened the eyes of a whole new
audience to Formula 1 . . . though this audience still doesn’t include my
wife, Julie, who I’d like to thank specially for her continued love and
support, or my cats, who continue to prefer to sleep on Sunday afternoons.
They will remain in the dark about the fact that any of my on-camera
appearances in Drive to Survive ended up on the cutting room floor . . .
The Author
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without written
permission of the copyright owners. All images in this book have been reproduced with the
knowledge and prior consent of the artists concerned, and no responsibility is accepted by
producer, publisher, or printer for any infringement of copyright or otherwise, arising from
the contents of this publication. Every effort has been made to ensure that credits
accurately comply with information supplied. We apologize for any inaccuracies that may
have occurred and will resolve inaccurate or missing information in a subsequent reprinting
of the book.
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ISBN: 978-0-7603-8067-3
eISBN: 978-0-7603-8069-7