The Formula 1 season is my second calendar of the year: from the spring tests to the autumn finale I arrange my weeks around race weekends. Twenty-some Sundays I would not give up to anyone.
What I love most is what you cannot see: thousands of people behind one driver, strategies written through the night, and tyre decisions that win the race before the car has even left the grid.
And then comes the start — twenty machines into the first corner, and that one heartbeat that cannot be faked. For moments like these I stay with Formula 1 forever.