The F1 Exhibition

I can remember where I was when I first watched an F1 race on TV. It was at a friend’s home in Putney. His dad was a fan, a Ferrari supporter. The three of us sat there glued to the TV for the Monaco Grand Prix.

I don’t remember what it was that I like about the sport back then but I’ve been a fan ever since. Where my family saw hours of cars going round and round in circles, I saw timing screens, lap deltas, and strategy. The combination of engineering, strategy, skill and drama has, despite the occasional dull season, never failed to keep me entertained.

With two young children, I’ve had to abandon the Sunday afternoon sofa marathon in favour of the highlights that are aired long after they go to bed. It never occurred to me that they might be as interested as I was.

When Oscar saw his first race he was glued to the TV. He wasn’t watching the cars at all. He was glued to the numbers, the flags, and the on-screen telemetry. He wanted to know why, how, and more importantly, what the numbers meant. It wasn’t long before every Sunday morning he started asking if we could watch the race. He’d use the timing data to provide his own commentary.

We haven’t made it to a race together yet, but a few days ago I took him to visit the F1 Exhibition in London. The exibition has been touring a few cities around the world and is in its final few days here in London. It showcases cars, trophies, history and design. Impressive is the detailed explanation of much of the science behind the sport.

Towards the end of the exhibition you head into a dark room. On the wall in front of you is a full height video showing the Romain Grosjean crash at the Bahrain GP in November 2020 (FIA report). I remember watching the race but for Oscar this was the first time he’d seen that opening lap. As a parent I felt the urge to rush him past the video and gloss over what happened. But I let him stand and watch. Silence.

As we eventually tore ourselves away from the video, we turned towards the final car in the exibition. In front of us was the monocoque from Romain’s car. That hit both of us hard. The car had been destroyed but this tiny shell around the driver had survived. It was burned, but in one piece. Everything else had broken away but it had done the job it was designed to do.

Before we visited, I wanted to say that the exhibition was expensive and difficult to get to. My son wasn’t old enough to use the simulators and, instead of driving around a virtual circuit, he found himself staring at air flow simulations, and technical drawings. He was full of questions, many of which I couldn’t answer.

A few moments after leaving the exhibition hall, as we wandered alongside the docks, he looked at me and said,

“It’s hard. They need to make the car go fast, but they need to make it safe. It’s a balance.”

His thoughts echoed those of Adrian Newey in How to build a car as he reflects on the decisions that went into the car driven by Ayrton Senna when he lost his life at Imola in 1994. The F1 exhibition, for all its glamour, and celebration of success had managed to convey to Oscar that Engineering was a balancing act. For that alone, I’d recommend it.

Then after a few moments of careful consideration, he continued by pointing out how he would be different to his brother.

“I would be safe, 弟弟 would be fast. He takes more risks.”

It won’t be long now before I end up taking them both to watch a race.