This is a tribute to the people who make Formula One work.
The people who build the car in a factory or technology centre or glorified shed, who have the effort and precision to make them almost perfectly reliable.
The people that leave their homes for months and fly around the world to check tyre temperatures.
The people who bust the curfews at night at the behest of the team bosses, who Kravitz and Pinkham patronise on a Friday night.
The people whose weekends consist of sitting in a control centre sending messages across the world.
The people who transform the streets of Monaco and Singapore to racing circuits, and who build and update the others.
The people who transport all this stuff across the world and those who get it where it needs to go.
The people who would not go up to the podium if their team won 100 races in a season.
The people who practice pitstops forever, and their reserves.
The people who work with the tyres, and have to listen what a crap job they do.
The waiters in the hospitality suite, the stallholders and the crowd stewards.
The marshalls of the course, the local hospital, the staff at the medical centre and the helicopter pilot.
The car park stewards, the toilet cleaners and the motorbike caretakers.
The people that seal and post all the programmes and tickets and invites to spurious parties.
The PAs, the PRs and even HR.
Couldn't do it without you.
The people who build the car in a factory or technology centre or glorified shed, who have the effort and precision to make them almost perfectly reliable.
The people that leave their homes for months and fly around the world to check tyre temperatures.
The people who bust the curfews at night at the behest of the team bosses, who Kravitz and Pinkham patronise on a Friday night.
The people whose weekends consist of sitting in a control centre sending messages across the world.
The people who transform the streets of Monaco and Singapore to racing circuits, and who build and update the others.
The people who transport all this stuff across the world and those who get it where it needs to go.
The people who would not go up to the podium if their team won 100 races in a season.
The people who practice pitstops forever, and their reserves.
The people who work with the tyres, and have to listen what a crap job they do.
The waiters in the hospitality suite, the stallholders and the crowd stewards.
The marshalls of the course, the local hospital, the staff at the medical centre and the helicopter pilot.
The car park stewards, the toilet cleaners and the motorbike caretakers.
The people that seal and post all the programmes and tickets and invites to spurious parties.
The PAs, the PRs and even HR.
Couldn't do it without you.
)
