Mario Andretti at speed in the Lotus 78. [Photo by Jack Webster]
Once there was a time when drivers were legendary for the way they drove their cars. The way they could race on the fine razor’s edge of adhesion, sense the limits of the car and dance their machine in an intricate ballet of speed, balance, control and bravery. In their day, this ballet, this balancing act, was literally on the razor’s edge of life and death. For in their day, in the not too distance past, if you fell off the razor’s edge of balance you were often killed or badly injured.
When you watched these masters in action, you were awed by their talent, their bravery, their technique. You could easily tell who was behind the wheel, even if their names or numbers were not on the cars. There was Jackie Stewart’s precise car control – so precise that he would apex the same corner lap after lap within a fraction of an inch from the previous lap. He was so smooth he looked slow, but it was a deception – he was wickedly fast.
You could tell when Ronnie Peterson was behind the wheel. Flying around the corners, opposite lock, sliding, he looked wickedly fast, and he was. But he was the exact opposite of Jackie Stewart.
Then there was Gilles Villeneuve. He could only drive one way – flat out, 110% effort at all times, regardless of his position in the race. Whether racing for first or last position, he drove with such a passion and abandon that he garnered the admiration and respect of not only his fellow drivers, but of legions of fans as well.
Of course, over the history of motorsport there have been many other drivers who you would immediately know was driving a particular car, due to their technique, their style, their flair. One wouldn’t want to leave out legends such as Juan Manuel Fangio, Jim Clark, Stirling Moss, Ayrton Senna, Michael Schumacher, Mario Andretti and countless others when discussing that special something that they all possessed, the “right stuff” as it were. For at its best, motor racing is the modern equivalent of World War I or World War II aerial combat – combatants maneuvering for the best position, striving to outmaneuver their opponent to be able to make the kill – or in the case of racing, to overtake.
Without doubt, that is what is missing today in racing, and in Indycar and Formula One in particular. Where is the flair, technique of the individual driver currently on display? In most cases, it is not. The car is set up to run on rails, the car with the most power will run up front and barring a mistake, will win.
Aerodynamics are both a blessing and a curse in racing, and in open wheel racing it has become a curse. Take a look at the current Aero kits for Chevy and Honda powered Indycars. You can tell they were designed by engineers in wind tunnels. They are very efficient, stick the car to the track like glue, cost tons of money and make the Chevy and Honda powered cars look somewhat different when on the track.
Everything was just great until they actually had to have a race. The wings are far too complex, far too fragile to be used in a real world setting where multiple cars have to be running nose to tail at any given time. Incidents are inevitable – cars will touch, wings will be broken, debris will litter the track. Worse yet, these wings and their components will become airborne missiles, unfortunately flying over the fences, over the grandstands and into the spectator areas. At the first race at St. Petersburg a fan in a concession area was seriously injured by flying debris from one of these wings.
The Indycar race at St. Petersburg was totally predictable. Cars got together, pieces went flying, full course yellows ruled the day and the cars on the track ran as though they were slot cars, running on rails.
In the end, at least an old school, seat of the pants, gutsy driver won the race. Juan Pablo Montoya was at his best – taking chances, pushing his car beyond the envelope and not taking crap from anybody on the track, even his own teammate.
The bottom line is that something radical has to change. Yes, keep the modern safety features built into these new open wheel cars (or in the case of Indycars, sort of open wheel). Protect the driver with the lower position in the cockpit, the Hans device, and the solid construction of the driver’s safety cell. However, let’s see how well these guys can really drive. Let’s see how they compare to the past legends of racing. Let’s see who is good and who is not. Let’s be able to know who is driving a car without looking at the colors or number. Let’s make them drive the cars again. Give them plenty of power, plenty of brakes, but take away a bunch of the aerodynamics.
Let’s go back to simple, single element wings on the front and back of the car. Let’s make the drivers actually slow down for corners so we can see which driver is able to make his car dance and which driver is the wallflower. Let’s put racing back into racing, with gutsy overtaking maneuvers, sliding around corners and wheel to wheel action without carbon fiber pieces flying everywhere. Let’s give the racing fans what they really want to see – real racing with real drivers.
It is time to give racing back to the drivers and take it away from the engineers. Only then will we be able to see which drivers will become future legends and who will have earned the right to be mentioned in the same conversation as Fangio, Clark, Stewart, Andretti and the like.
That’s our take on the current situation, but things are unlikely to change. Once entrenched, current rules are seldom changed for the better. However, for the future health of the sport, we hope someone at least listens.
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