The reason we watch F1 is to see the battle at the front. The world’s best drivers and teams throwing all their weight and resources to get a Grand Prix victory, and earn those points that might lead them to a world championship at the end of the year. But the real fight in F1 happens from third through tenth. And occasionally, on a special day, sometimes we get to see a team that doesn’t normally see much time at the front of the field, contending for a podium. Enter Force I

Are you a Lewis Hamilton fan? If so, why? What is it about his personality that you love? Those of us that wander the paddock with F1’s “megastar” are divided in our thoughts about him. Maybe it’s just the photographers. We mean nothing to the newly blonde king of cool. I’ve heard stories from journalists about how nice he is. He notices new shoes, new jewelry, new hair styles, a new pen. It sounds like they’re describing a different person to the one we point our lenses at.

If you’ve ever spent any time around classic cars, you’ll know exactly what I’m talking about. They have a very distinct smell. Like old leather, years of love and life, miles and miles under the tires, mixed with the pungent smell of diesel. They cough and choke smoke and you can hear every cylinder firing when the engine cranks up. Now imagine an entire golf course, a world famous golf course at that, covered with old cars. What you get is Pebble Beach Concours d’Elegance.

I’ve never understood photographers. And I’ve certainly never understood the big photo agencies. It’s like it’s a sin to look at a colleague’s work and say out loud in a public forum, “Wow. He did a nice job this weekend.” “Or that frame is kick ass and very unique.” Even more rare than rivals complimenting each other is public criticism. “You’re better than that” or “That wasn’t your best effort” are words you will never hear out loud or in writing. We live in a global socie

Monaco. It is a race that has to be seen to be believed. Even when the racing action is less than exhilarating, Monaco is a magical place to watch racing cars. I am more than well aware that I have the best access that even money itself cannot buy. But even for the average fan watching from one of the countless balconies or grandstands that cover Monte Carlo, and even more so for those watching on TV and seeing those heart pounding onboard clips of today’s drivers throwing a

I love winter testing. Not everyone does, but I do. The long days allow for plenty of opportunities to make art with the new cars pounding around lap after lap after lap. You can learn so much about the cars, the drivers and the teams. It still boggles my mind that so many journalists keep their asses planted in the media center watching a live timing screen, and occasionally poking their head over the desk to see which car is coming in pitlane and what tire it is running on.

There is a first for everything. The 53rd Rolex 24 at Daytona was my first. My first time to the famed banked oval by the beach. My first 24 hour race. It was everything I thought it would be, and much more. More fun. More exciting. Definitely more exhausting. The thing I’ll remember most about my first 24 is the complete silence that surrounds the track after the race is over. For over 24 hours, there have been engines roaring, relentlessly pounding your eardrums and spine.

In my eyes and my mind, Formula One has already crowned it’s 2014 World Driver’s champion? “How so” you say? “We have 2 races to go” they argue, “and one them is double points!” Let me elaborate. Lewis Hamilton is a man on a mission. Nico Rosberg is a guy without motivation. As a former athlete myself, I’m not sure how he ended up here. If you had put me in a corner and told me I was going to lose a race as a swimmer or jockey, there are two mindsets to take. One would be to

I for one hate it. Politics and sport. It makes for good newspaper reading, but that’s about it. When you boil it down, I genuinely feel bad for all the athletes, past and present, that have been dragged into this long standing debate. This wasn’t the first or last time we will see these arguments made. But last week, the political Cold War started anew between familiar players. But on new battle lines. A race track. In Russia. My personal feelings on politics and sport were

Petit Le Mans. It was only the third race I covered in my career way back in 2011. And to this very moment, it remains one of my favorite race weekends. I’ve gone far and wide across the globe, and keep coming back to Road Atlanta feeling unsatisfied, but loving every second standing next to this amazing circuit. The race has changed a lot though. It’s not really “Little Le Mans” anymore, is it? I guess that’s not a bad thing. The European teams that used to flood the paddock