2017 NASCAR Season

I'll just leave this right here:

7 - 2007 - 2017 - 70

jadeseal7 said:I'll just leave this right here:

7 - 2007 - 2017 - 70

And what's that supposed to mean? 🤔

neonfox65 said:And what's that supposed to mean? 🤔

Just give it a quick Google search

jadeseal7 said:I'll just leave this right here:

7 - 2007 - 2017 - 70

Even if Alonso actually accused McLaren—or Honda—of ripping off Mercedes' power unit data, 😬
it’s not totally impossible, but I wouldn't bet my life on it...

stormybadger8 said:Even if Alonso actually accused McLaren—or Honda—of ripping off Mercedes' power unit data, 😬
it’s not totally impossible, but I wouldn't bet my life on it...

🤣 That could definitely be playing out too.

15 days ago:

Timothy Castillo6 said:Here’s how the betting lines are looking right now for the 2017 Drivers' Championship:
Lewis Hamilton 5/4
Max Verstappen 11/4
Valtteri Bottas 4/1
Daniel Ricciardo 4/1
Sebastian Vettel 16/1
Fernando Alonso 16/1
Kimi Raikkonen 50/1
Stoffel Vandoorne 100/1

Today:
Lewis Hamilton 11/10
Sebastian Vettel 3/1
Valtteri Bottas 11/2
Max Verstappen 7/1
Kimi Raikkonen 8/1
Daniel Ricciardo 8/1
Felipe Massa 150/1
Fernando Alonso 200/1
Lance Stroll 500/1
Stoffel Vandoorne 750/1
Carlos Sainz 750/1
Esteban Ocon 1000/1

☕ and 🤣 together

And look at ESPN—they didn't even get to me until seven minutes later. Give me a break... 😂

14:18

The oddsmakers are clearly obsessed with whatever Ferrari is pulling off lately—Sebastian Vettel has jumped all the way up to being the second favorite for the Drivers' Championship, sitting right behind Lewis Hamilton and actually ahead of guys like Valtteri Bottas and Max Verstappen.
Ferrari is also sitting in that number two spot right behind Mercedes when you look at the Constructors' betting lines.

With the season set to kick off next week, wouldn't it be only fitting that we were provided with a comprehensive summary to prepare us all? Could it be that we are witnessing the dawn of a new era, or perhaps merely a restructuring of the existing order? I find myself sitting here, reflecting on these recent changes to the regulations, wondering if they truly serve the greater good of our community or if they are simply another layer of bureaucracy designed to complicate what was once simple. Is it not curious how, whenever one thing settles, another set of rules emerges to challenge our understanding? One cannot help but ponder whether these shifts will ultimately foster more stability or if we are all just drifting toward further uncertainty. What do you all think—are we prepared for this shift in direction? When one considers how things have evolved compared to last season, does it not strike you as a profound shift in the landscape? One finds oneself reflecting on the sheer scale of the changes that have unfolded since the previous year concluded.

Front wing. One simply cannot help but contemplate the sheer complexity of such a component, can one? When you look at the intricate aerodynamics required for a modern racing machine, isn't it fascinating how much of the car's entire soul seems to reside in that single, forward-facing element? It dictates the flow, governs the pressure, and essentially sets the stage for everything that follows behind it on the track. One wonders if we truly grasp the magnitude of its influence.: Is there anything more profoundly perplexing than the sheer, unadulterated variety found within the realm of optical engineering? One finds oneself staring at the specifications for a 150mm lens and wondering, quite sincerely, if we have truly mastered the art of capturing light, or if we are merely playing at being scientists. Does a focal length of such magnitude not invite a certain level of contemplative stillness in the photographer, forcing one to slow down and consider the very essence of the subject before the shutter even clicks? It seems to me that when we choose such a perspective, we aren't just choosing a tool, but rather a philosophy of observation. Could we perhaps consider widening our perspective on this matter? It seems to me that if we don't aim for a more comprehensive understanding—one that encompasses the broader implications rather than just these narrow, immediate details—we might find ourselves overlooking the very essence of what we are trying to achieve, wouldn't you agree?

The rear wing... one cannot help but contemplate the sheer engineering audacity required to master such a component, can one? It sits there, poised at the back of the machine, acting as that silent, steadfast guardian of stability against the chaotic whims of high-speed airflow. Is it not fascinating how much power rests upon such a singular, elegant structure? One begins to wonder if we truly grasp the delicate balance between the pursuit of raw downforce and the inevitable, heavy tax of aerodynamic drag. It is a constant, quiet struggle, much like the many complexities we face in our own lives, searching for that perfect equilibrium where progress meets poise.: Is there anything more profoundly contemplative than the sheer scale of a 200mm lens? I find myself sitting here, staring at the equipment, wondering if we truly grasp the weight of such a focal length, or if we simply accept it as a mere number on a spec sheet. One begins to ponder whether the distance between the observer and the subject isn't just a physical measurement, but a psychological threshold that we cross when we decide to zoom in. Does a longer reach bring us closer to the truth of a scene, or does it merely create a beautiful, albeit distant, illusion? It is a question that lingers in my mind like a quiet fog over the Potomac. Could we perhaps consider looking at this from a much broader perspective? It seems to me that if we don't widen our lens to encompass the entirety of the situation, we risk missing those subtle, underlying nuances that truly define the core of the matter. Is it not always more prudent to survey the entire landscape before drawing such definitive conclusions? Is it possible that we have perhaps overlooked the sheer significance of the 150mm measurement in our current discussions? One finds oneself wondering if such a specific dimension carries a weight that we are collectively failing to acknowledge, much like how one might overlook the subtle nuances of a classic piece of literature if they were merely skimming the pages for plot rather than pausing to appreciate the prose. Could it be that this particular figure serves as a cornerstone for the very topic at hand, acting as a silent anchor amidst the shifting tides of our debate? Is there perhaps more to be said further down? Perhaps the details we require are nestled within the subsequent lines, waiting patiently for those willing to scroll a bit further?

Could one ever truly grasp the profound impact that a simple diffuser might have on the very atmosphere of a living space? It is a question I find myself pondering quite often, especially when the air feels stagnant or lacks that certain essential vitality. When we consider the subtle art of scent dispersion, are we not essentially attempting to curate an invisible landscape, a sensory environment that shapes our moods and our thoughts without us even realizing it? One might think it a trivial matter, yet there is something deeply earnest about the pursuit of such harmony within the walls of one's own home.: Is there anything truly more fundamental, more foundational to the very essence of visual storytelling, than the humble 50mm lens? I find myself wandering through these digital corridors often wondering if we have lost our appreciation for the standard focal length in an age obsessed with the hyper-distorted wide-angle or the overly compressed telephoto. One must ask oneself, does the 50mm not represent the most honest bridge between the human eye and the mechanical sensor? It sits there, poised in that perfect middle ground, neither exaggerating the world nor shrinking it into insignificance, but rather presenting it exactly as we perceive it during a quiet walk through Central Park or a contemplative afternoon in a Chicago coffee shop. There is a certain dignity in its simplicity, wouldn't you agree? While others chase the latest technological gimmicks, I remain steadfast in my belief that this singular piece of glass offers a clarity of purpose that is increasingly rare in our modern, frantic era of photography. Is there anything more profoundly unsettling than the weight of silence that follows an unanswered question? One finds oneself drifting through the quietude, wondering if the void is simply waiting for a response, or if the absence of one is, in itself, the most definitive answer we could ever hope to receive. Is there anything truly more fundamental, perhaps even more poetic, than the humble 50mm lens? I find myself wandering through these digital corridors wondering if we have lost our appreciation for that singular, honest perspective which sits so perfectly between the wide-angle distortion we often crave and the compressed, distant gaze of the telephoto. Does it not feel like the very essence of how we perceive the world when we stand on a street corner in Chicago or walk through a quiet park in Seattle? It mimics the human eye, does it not? It doesn't lie to you, nor does it attempt to romanticize a scene with artificial curves; it simply presents the truth of the moment. One might argue that in an era obsessed with megapixels and hyper-specialized glass, we have forgotten the quiet dignity of a prime lens that demands you actually move your feet to find the composition. Is it not better to struggle slightly with your framing than to rely on the easy crutch of a zoom? Could you perhaps elaborate a bit further on that? I find myself wondering if there might be some additional context or perhaps a deeper layer to your thought process that hasn't yet been laid bare for us to contemplate. Is there more to the story, or are we truly standing at the edge of this particular realization? Is there anything more profoundly perplexing than the sheer, unyielding variability found within the realm of technical specifications? I find myself staring at this particular measurement—175mm—and wondering if we might pause for a moment to consider the implications of such precision in an otherwise chaotic world. Does a millimeter truly hold its weight when one considers the vastness of the cosmos, or is it merely a tiny, fragile anchor intended to keep us from drifting into total structural uncertainty? One cannot help but feel that such specific dimensions invite a certain level of scrutiny that most of us simply aren't prepared to handle on a Tuesday afternoon. I find myself wondering, quite often, if we have perhaps lost our appreciation for the depth and nuance required by a more substantial discourse. Is there not something inherently valuable, something almost sacred, about taking the necessary time to truly flesh out an idea rather than rushing toward a shallow conclusion? One might argue that brevity, while efficient for the hurried mind, often sacrifices the very essence of truth that can only be captured through a more expansive and thorough exploration of the subject at hand. Does a shorter path not frequently lead us away from the complexities that make our discussions meaningful?

Could one perhaps contemplate the sheer physical dimensions of these racing machines, specifically regarding their width? It seems to me a question worth pondering, does it not? When we observe them tearing across the asphalt, one cannot help but wonder how such substantial breadth affects the delicate balance of aerodynamics and driver control. Is there a specific limit that engineers must respect, or is it merely a matter of maximizing the footprint for stability?Is it not a curious thing how we often find ourselves contemplating the sheer scale of incremental change, much like observing the slow, steady rise of the tide along the Atlantic coast? When one considers that a value has been increased by a certain margin, does it not force us to pause and reflect on the cumulative weight of such adjustments over time? One wonders if we truly grasp the implications of these shifts, or if we simply accept them as they come, drifting through the fluctuations of our daily lives without a second thought. Is it possible that we have become far too preoccupied with the sheer scale of things, overlooking the subtle nuances found in smaller measurements? One might ponder if a 200mm specification is truly sufficient for the task at hand, or if we are simply settling for mediocrity when excellence demands more. Does anyone else find themselves lost in these technicalities, wondering if the standard dimensions we rely upon are actually meeting our unspoken needs?

Tires. It is a subject that most people tend to overlook until they find themselves staring at a bald sidewall on the shoulder of an interstate, wondering where it all went wrong, isn't it? One rarely gives much thought to the silent, rotating foundation of our entire mobile existence, yet there we are, trusting our lives to little circles of vulcanized rubber. Is it not a curious thing how much of our safety rests upon such a singular, often neglected component of the automobile? I found myself contemplating this earlier today while watching a heavy rainstorm lash against my windshield, making me realize just how vital tread depth truly is when the asphalt turns slick. Does anyone else find themselves obsessing over the specific compound of a tire, perhaps debating the merits of Michelin versus Goodyear, or is it merely my own peculiar tendency to dwell on these practicalities?

• Is it possible that we have been overlooking the fundamental necessity of widening the front end? I find myself wondering if the current configuration lacks that essential breadth required for true stability. One must ask, is there not a certain structural integrity gained when we expand our horizons—or in this case, our physical dimensions—to accommodate a more balanced approach? Is there anything more profoundly significant than the simple measurement of sixty millimeters? One finds oneself contemplating the sheer weight of such a dimension, wondering if we truly grasp the implications of these tiny increments that define our physical reality. Does the world not feel different when we shift our perspective by such a minute margin? It is a curious thing, really, how such a small distance can hold so much potential for change.It appears there may have been a slight oversight or perhaps a momentary lapse in the transmission, as the message seems to have cut off prematurely after the initial thought regarding a rear component. Is it possible that the details concerning this specific rear assembly were lost in transit? I find myself wondering if we were meant to discuss the structural integrity of a rear bumper on a Ford, or perhaps the intricate mechanics of a rear axle within a heavy-duty Chevrolet truck? One often encounters these minor technical hiccups when attempting to convey complex mechanical observations, does one not? If you could kindly provide the remaining context, I would be more than happy to engage in a thorough and sincere discussion regarding the matter at hand. Is there anything more profoundly evocative than the sheer, unadulterated weight of an 80mm lens? I find myself sitting here, staring at my gear bag, wondering if we have perhaps lost our appreciation for the deliberate, slow-moving grace that such a focal length demands from a photographer. Does one truly understand the art of composition if they aren't willing to move their entire body just to frame a single, perfect silhouette? It isn't merely about the magnification, is it? No, it feels much deeper than that—it’s about that specific, intimate distance between the observer and the subject, a distance that forces a certain kind of quiet contemplation upon the soul. One might argue that modern digital conveniences have made us lazy, favoring the wide-angle rush over the meditative stillness of a telephoto prime, but I cannot help but feel that the 80mm remains a sanctuary for those of us who still crave a sense of intentionality in our craft.

• Is it not a curious thing how much our drivers are actually being handed these days? One finds oneself wondering if we have reached a point where the sheer volume of concessions given to those behind the wheel might eventually outweigh the very purpose they serve, or perhaps, does this influx of benefits simply signal a necessary evolution in how we view the American motorist? Is it perhaps possible that one might find themselves in need of an additional intermediate-level study kit? I find myself pondering whether such a resource would be beneficial for those seeking to deepen their understanding, or if the existing materials already suffice for the task at hand. What should one consider if the weather takes a turn for the worse and we find ourselves facing a sudden downpour? Is there any particular protocol we ought to follow, or perhaps some wisdom regarding how to handle such an unexpected deluge?

• Is it not a profound truth that the selection of one's tires is, in itself, a decision of monumental consequence? One might wonder, as we sit here contemplating the sheer variety of rubber compounds available on the market, whether we truly grasp the weight of such a choice. Is it merely a matter of traction, or is it something more deeply philosophical, a silent pact between the driver and the asphalt of the American interstate? When one considers the heat of a summer afternoon in Phoenix or the unpredictable, sudden downpours that can sweep through the Pacific Northwest, does the tire not become an extension of one's very soul? It seems to me that choosing the wrong set is akin to building a house upon shifting sands—an error in judgment that lingers far longer than the initial moment of indecision. Is it perhaps a bit premature to suggest that we should freeze the standings after only the first five races, or am I simply being overly cautious in my analysis? One cannot help but wonder if these early results truly reflect the underlying capabilities of the teams, or if we are merely witnessing the chaotic whims of luck and initial setup trials. Does a snapshot taken so early in the season ever hold any lasting weight once the heat of summer arrives and the technical developments begin to shift the landscape? I find myself contemplating whether such an early solidification of rank might stifle the very excitement that makes this sport so captivating in the first place.Is it not quite fascinating how much weight we place on such minute technicalities? One must consider that the specific number assigned to a tire—that particular compound designated by Goodyear—is far from arbitrary, wouldn't you agree? It serves as the very foundation for everything we observe on the track.

Is there anything quite as perplexing, as deeply unsettling, as the sheer weight of a racing machine? One finds oneself staring at these marvels of engineering—these sleek, carbon-fiber predators that seem to defy the very laws of physics—and wonders: how can something so seemingly ethereal be so devastatingly heavy when it actually hits the asphalt? Is it the density of the materials themselves, or perhaps some hidden, unseen burden that the engineers must carry? It makes one pause and reflect on the delicate balance between velocity and mass, doesn't it?Is it not truly remarkable how much can be gained through such an increase? One finds oneself wondering if we have fully grasped the implications of these heightened figures, for when something expands in this manner, does it not inevitably alter the very fabric of our expectations? Is it possible that we have become somewhat disconnected from the physical reality of weight, perhaps due to our constant reliance on digital scales and the abstract numbers flickering on our smartphone screens? I find myself pondering whether twenty-six kilograms—which, for those of us more accustomed to the imperial system used here in the States, translates to roughly fifty-seven pounds—carries a different psychological weight depending on what exactly is being measured. If one were to consider a child, or perhaps a heavy piece of luggage sitting forgotten in the corner of an airport terminal in Chicago, does that number not evoke a specific sense of gravity? One wonders, does the sheer mass of an object change how we perceive its importance in our lives? Does one ever truly grasp the sheer weight of these technical regulations, and how they fundamentally reshape the very essence of the machines we admire? It seems that, from this point forward, the minimum weight requirement for the car has been adjusted upward, necessitating a heavier baseline than we previously anticipated. Is it not fascinating, perhaps even a bit maddening, how such a seemingly minor shift in mass can ripple through every single aerodynamic calculation and engine calibration? One wonders if the engineers will find themselves chasing ghosts in the wind, trying to reclaim the agility lost to these new mandates. Is it not truly remarkable when one pauses to consider the sheer magnitude of such a figure? When we speak of 1,600 pounds, does it not conjure an image of something immense, perhaps a heavy-duty Ford F-150 or even a small compact car, sitting there with its undeniable weight? One cannot help but wonder how such a mass affects the delicate balance of our daily calculations, or if we simply gloss over these substantial numbers in our rush toward the next moment. Does weight itself hold a certain gravity in our minds, or is it merely a collection of digits on a page?)

Fuel. It is such a curious thing, isn’t it? We move through our lives, rushing from one appointment to the next, fueled by these volatile liquids that we simply pump into our machines without a second thought, yet how much does it truly dictate the rhythm of our existence? I found myself sitting at a gas station outside of Chicago just yesterday, watching the numbers climb on the pump, and I couldn't help but wonder if we realize how fragile our entire modern infrastructure rests upon this singular, flowing commodity. Is it not fascinating how a simple fluctuation in global markets can ripple through our quiet suburban streets, turning a routine trip to the grocery store into a moment of minor financial anxiety? One begins to ponder the sheer complexity of the supply chains required to ensure that, when we turn the key, the engine responds with that familiar, rhythmic hum. It makes one reflect on our dependence, doesn't it? We crave autonomy, yet we are tethered to these stations, to these prices, to this constant, invisible flow of energy that keeps the wheels of the nation turning.

• Is it truly permissible to utilize nothing else? One finds oneself pondering whether we are restricted to such limited means, or if there exists some unstated liberty that we have simply failed to grasp in our current state of understanding. Could one perhaps contemplate the existence of five distinct ways to articulate a single thought? It seems to me that language is such a vast, winding river, isn't it, always shifting its banks and carving new paths through the landscape of our understanding? One might wonder if we truly ever say exactly what we mean, or if we are merely circling the truth in various, increasingly complex patterns. Is there not a certain quiet beauty in the way a simple idea can be dressed in different garments, sometimes heavy and formal, other times light and fleeting, yet always retaining that core essence of what was intended? I find myself pondering whether the pursuit of the perfect phrasing is a noble endeavor or merely a sophisticated distraction from the reality of the message itself. Perhaps, in the end, the variety is the point—not just to convey information, but to invite the listener into a deeper, more nuanced conversation with the soul of the concept. Is it not a curious thing to contemplate how we approach the concept of fuel consumption throughout an entire racing season, particularly when one considers the pursuit of absolute maximum efficiency? One wonders, does anyone truly grasp the sheer scale of resource management required when you are looking at the entirety of a championship run rather than just a single weekend at a track like Indianapolis or Austin? It seems to me that we often get caught up in the immediate mechanics of a single race, yet isn't the real challenge found in how those reserves are stretched and managed over months of grueling competition? How can one possibly optimize for the maximum possible output while simultaneously accounting for the inevitable depletion that occurs as the season unfolds? Two distinct variations. Was it truly just another race, or was it something more profound that we witnessed on the track today? I find myself sitting here, staring at the replay, wondering if we can ever truly grasp the sheer velocity of such an event without feeling a sense of existential vertigo. Does anyone else feel that peculiar, lingering stillness once the engines finally fall silent, as if the very air in the grandstands has lost its momentum? It makes one ponder the nature of competition itself—is it merely a pursuit of speed, or is it a desperate, beautiful struggle against our own limitations?

• Is there perhaps some unspoken significance to this specific number, or am I simply drifting through these digital halls without a compass? One finds oneself contemplating the weight of things—not just physical mass, but the gravity of existence itself—and yet here we are, staring at a figure that stands at 231 pounds. Does such a measurement carry a certain weight in our collective consciousness, or is it merely a digit floating in the ether? Is there a definitive upper limit regarding the permissible amount of fuel one might carry? One cannot help but wonder if such regulations exist merely to ensure safety during transit, or if they serve some broader, more bureaucratic purpose within our national transportation guidelines. Does anyone happen to know the specific threshold set by the Department of Transportation for these types of shipments?Is it not curious how we find ourselves constantly measuring the weight of our lives in such arbitrary increments? I was sitting by my window this morning, watching the light shift over the neighborhood, and I couldn't help but reflect on the sheer physicality of five kilograms—that specific, heavy presence. It is a weight that feels significant enough to be felt in the palm of one's hand, yet perhaps too modest to alter the course of a life, wouldn't you agree? One wonders if we spend far too much of our existence preoccupied with these small, tangible burdens, searching for profound meaning in a mass that is, in the grand scheme of things, quite negligible. It truly feels like a period extending far beyond the mere confines of 2016, wouldn't you agree?

Power plant.

• Is it not curious how quickly the once-celebrated token system has been cast aside, left to gather dust like an obsolete relic from a bygone era? One cannot help but wonder if we have truly moved past such constraints, given that the number of changes permitted on the PJ platform appears to be entirely unburdened by any limit whatsoever. Does this newfound freedom signal a fundamental shift in our operational philosophy, or is it merely a sign that the old guardrails have simply dissolved into the ether?

• Is it not true that there are certain inherent limitations within the code? One cannot help but wonder if we are perhaps overlooking the subtle boundaries set by the very logic we strive to master. When we look at the architecture of these systems, don't we see the invisible walls that dictate what is possible and what remains forever out of reach? It seems to me that such constraints are not merely obstacles, but rather fundamental truths woven into the fabric of our digital reality. When one begins to contemplate the complexities of weight, the sheer scale of dimensions, and the inherent nature of various materials, does one not find themselves descending into a labyrinth of endless variables? It is a subject that demands a certain level of gravity, much like the heavy machinery used in a massive construction project out in Texas, where every ounce of steel and every inch of clearance matters more than most would care to admit. One must wonder, as we sit here contemplating these physical properties, how much of our perception is shaped by the very substances we touch and move? Is it possible that the density of an object dictates not just its mass, but our very psychological approach to handling it? There is a profound, almost meditative quality to analyzing how size and substance intersect, provided one has the patience to truly delve into the technical nuances. Which specific materials or processes are being utilized for the manufacturing of certain components? Is there a particular standard we should be looking toward, or perhaps a specialized method currently favored within the industry?

• Is it not, perhaps, a question of whether we are permitted to utilize these means at all? One finds oneself wondering if such actions fall within the bounds of what is deemed acceptable under our current standards. Is it not a curious thing how we find ourselves contemplating the sheer variety inherent in the various types of personal journeys one might undertake? I often wonder if we truly grasp the depth of these four distinct paths, or if we merely skim the surface of our own existence without ever really understanding the mechanics behind them. One begins to ponder, does one not, whether the direction we choose is a matter of destiny or simply a series of calculated, albeit messy, decisions? Throughout the entire season, isn't it true that every single penalty following that specific number results in an immediate sanction?

• Is it not becoming increasingly untenable to attempt building up a reserve of Power Units by subjecting oneself to such utterly preposterous penalties—we’re talking about losing millions of positions on track—when the regulations dictate that only the very last engine unit utilized during a single race weekend can actually be carried over to the next? Does it not seem fundamentally flawed to penalize strategic resource management so harshly when the rules themselves restrict our ability to stockpile components for future use?

They’re certainly being aggressive with these penalties lately—it can feel a bit much sometimes—but honestly, this isn't just some modern F1 phenomenon. We've seen this kind of officiating drama play out many times before in the sport's history.

Getting off the line is going to be a massive headache for drivers in 2017.

Honestly, I'm here for it. We might actually see some messy starts—maybe even someone like Hamilton stumbling at the jump... 🙂

And just when you thought things couldn't get more ridiculous—now, starting next season after they bring the standing starts back—drivers will actually be lined up right there on the grid.

brighthound8 said:And just when you thought things couldn't get more ridiculous—now, starting next season after they bring the standing starts back—drivers will actually be lined up right there on the grid.

So yeah, just another chance for someone to absolutely botch the start 😁

neonfox65 said:So yeah, just another chance for someone to absolutely botch the start 😁

Code: 44

jadeseal7 said:Code: 44

and occasionally, though very rarely, code 7 works... 🙂

jadeseal7 said:Code: 44

If Code 44 were always relegated to the back of the pack, the race might actually hold some suspense, if you ask me.🙂

mellowtiger83 said:If Code 44 were always relegated to the back of the pack, the race might actually hold some suspense, if you ask me.🙂

I’m a little confused here—I mean, how can anyone say that? It seems to me he essentially handed over the championship title because of those botched starts.

jadeseal7 said:I’m a little confused here—I mean, how can anyone say that? It seems to me he essentially handed over the championship title because of those botched starts.

He lost the title to Rosberg, who is an absolute class act and a premier driver—just ask Michael Schumacher if he ever recovers!

Against Bottas, he could comfortably start from the back of the pack. 🙂

How can you not see it? He ought to be starting last every single time just to make the championship actually interesting.

I’ve got my doubts about this Safety Car restart. Sure, it’ll make for some gripping TV, but I can already see the inevitable meltdown from the fans once we see if the call was even necessary. If Lewis Hamilton loses out on a podium or a win because of a questionable Safety Car deployment, the media frenzy will be relentless for days.
We’re likely looking at more officiating headaches, much like the controversies we saw during those messy mid-race collisions earlier this season.
On another note, is the Virtual Safety Car staying put, and is Charlie still pulling the strings in Race Control? I thought there was some talk about him being replaced soon.

When the Safety Car pulls out in front of the pack, those laps don't count toward the total—instead, we revert back to a standard standing start (this specifically applies when things get messy in the rain, so there's no more rolling starts here)
Now, whether that rule kicks in for every single restart following an SC period... I honestly couldn't tell you.

Amy Castillo4 said:When the Safety Car pulls out in front of the pack, those laps don't count toward the total—instead, we revert back to a standard standing start (this specifically applies when things get messy in the rain, so there's no more rolling starts here)
Now, whether that rule kicks in for every single restart following an SC period... I honestly couldn't tell you.

Actually, every lap completed behind the Safety Car is counted, with the sole exception being that very first formation lap. Furthermore, that peculiar standing start procedure is only utilized at the beginning of the race if weather conditions dictate a start behind the Safety Car; otherwise, every subsequent Safety Car period follows the exact same protocol we saw last year, where the car pulls in and the field accelerates out in a line.
If you are interested in diving deeper into the technicalities of these regulations, you might find more clarity here on page 35.