As strange as it may seem, as I write this month’s column, I am looking down on Greenland. That’s right, nestled in my 10” by 10” seat, with my lap top stuffed up under my chin because the guy in front is fully reclined a scant few inches from my face. I am on my way back from a whirlwind, seven-day trip to England. Hey, this job has to have some perks.
For the automotively inclined, going to England is like making the pilgrimage to Mecca. It’s sometimes hard for us American “gearheads” to believe that in an area smaller than California there are well over 20 racetracks, at least a dozen automotive museums and a bewildering assortment of businesses and industries catering to the classic car enthusiast. I came to England in March (rainy and cold, what else?) on business for the magazine and really had no expectations of getting to see any racing or automotive events while I was there. Wrong.
Fortunately for me, our European Editor Ed McDonough lives just a few minutes from Silverstone. The day I arrived, groggy and jet lagged, Ed suggested we “pop over” to Silverstone to see if anything was going on. As we pulled up to the main gate and rolled down the windows, we could here the shrill, banshee-like engine scream that could come from only one thing – yup, Formula One cars. With a bit of cajoling, begging and general arm twisting, Ed was able to get us press credentials for the Formula One test. I should mention that by this time I had been awake almost 26 hours, but the prospect of watching a F1 test from the pit lane was better than a double-espresso IV drip at reviving my spirits.
As we pulled into the backside of the Silverstone paddock, we could see a sea of transporters lined up behind the garages. Williams, Benetton, Jordan, Arrows and Jaguar were apparently all testing in preparation for the Malaysian Grand Prix. Security for the test was very tight, so in order to get to the pit lane we had to go through the back of one of the unoccupied garages. As I opened the door to step out into the pit lane, I felt it balk on something on the other side. I pushed a little harder and it gave way. The obstruction on the other side turned out to be Juan Pablo Montoya talking with one of the Williams team engineers. I guess I’m always proud to wave the banner of the “ugly American” wherever I go.
After clouting my buddy Juan, Ed and I found ourselves virtually the only non-team members on the pit lane. As Ed and I started to poke our head into the Williams’ garage, there was a scream behind us like nothing I’d ever heard. Jarno Trulli in the Jordan was flying down the front straight just a few yards behind us. Not having been able to attend the USGP last year, I hadn’t seen a current Formula One car run since the last time the F1 circus came to Long Beach in 1983. While I always watch the races on the television, the sound is so much different in person. Unbelievably deafening. The engine note is so high and so shrill, you’re really hard pressed to tolerate it at close range without some kind of ear protection. Oh well, at least I’ll have a great story to tell the hearing aid salesman when I’m older.
So Ed and I walked up and down the pit lane marvelling at not just the cars, but also at the incredible level of gear and support crew that are present for one of these tests. When we got to the end of the pitlane, we walked out to the wall and stuck our heads out over the track as the cars rocketed through the first turn. Again, television really does not do justice to the incredible cornering ability of these cars! The cars were hurling around Silverstone’s Copse corner seemingly without lifting.
For the next hour or so we slogged through the now infamous soggy bogs of Silverstone observing the cars from the various corner marshall stands. By 4:00 p.m. I felt like something out of “Night of the Living Dead,” so we headed back to the paddock and Ed’s car. In the paddock, the teams were beginning to pack up, and as we passed back through the garage area, I briefly made eye contact with my new friend Juan. I’d like to be able to tell you he smiled and tossed me his gloves – but in reality he glared at me, turned around and walked off… rubbing the back of his neck. More to follow.
