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Sherman McCoy's avatar

Important to note that Yuki’s lapse of judgement cost the team 4 points, which would represent about $20MM (in terms of prize money delta).

If it comes down to that in Abu Dhabi, he should be fired straight into the Rising Sun, Honda money or not; and speaking of Honda …

The jungle drums were beating overtime on Sunday night. Lots of rumors and innuendo, but the consensus is that something along the lines of the following has - or will shortly - taken place:

0-Stroll Sr selling the Aston Martin F1 team - which is contracted to have a Honda power unit in 2026 - to someone else. The buyer could be Aramco / PIF, Honda, or someone else.

1-One of both of this change in control or the team’s dismal performance in the back half of the year would trigger one of the many escape clauses in Fernando’s contract.

2-So … Fernando would be on the market looking for a top seat. Who might have a vacancy? Red Bull!

3-Which would result in a seat swap - Fernando goes to Red Bull to find out how good Max really is, and Perez returns to his old Force India / Racing Point team to help the new owners make sense of things.

4-Stroll Jr is off to WEC, where he will win Le Mans!

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JMcG's avatar

Boy, where to start?

I made my first parachute jump at 16. I started rock and ice climbing at 18, fairly serious mountaineering at 20. Got my first motorcycle at 18, started road racing at 20 as soon as I had a few bucks scraped together. I learned to fly in my late twenties. I’m not immune to the lure of the abyss.

And yet, so much of that stuff seems like wasted time to me now.

I quit mountaineering around the time I met my wife; with relief, if truth be told. I was scared all the time on a big mountain. There’s more than a touch of masochism to mountaineering.

I kept the motorcycles, but quit racing. I was good at riding fast, but not good at the racing part. I didn’t like the thought that some dips**t could put me on a ventilator for the rest of my life out of pure carelessness.

I kept flying, but quit towing gliders. I was eating breakfast one Sunday morning with my pregnant wife, my two year old son, and my one year old daughter. I got a call that one of the other tow pilots had crashed and burned that morning while departing with a glider under tow. I didn’t want some other guy raising my kids.

I never held the nine-to-fivers with a wife and kids in any kind contempt: I just thought that it seemed like a boring sort of life to me. Little did I know that the best, most exciting hours of my life would be the ones I spent with my wife, and especially with my children. Everything else fades into insignificance.

And now, my son has a couple hundred flying hours under his belt at age twenty. And a Sportster. I could stop him from riding, I suppose. But I can’t bring myself to do that.

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