Shadow’s F1 race shop in England in 1973, where the reporter and his camera were cheerfully admitted and left to prowl as he pleased.
Photo: Pete Lyons / www.petelyons.com
Maybe I’ll change my mind by the end of the column, but as I tap out this opening sentence, I feel an itch to go back and be a Formula 1 reporter again.
This happens every spring. The off-season has dragged on too long, stimulation and intrigue have been lacking, the siren song has been silent. All I’ve been able to do is flit, restlessly, through print publications and around the Web, trying to work out what’s going on. But that’s futile. Anybody who knows isn’t telling; those who claim to, don’t. Or so it seems to me in my frustration.
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