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Formula 1
VARSHA: Hungarian Rhapsody
Hungary is a country with a history dating back to the far end of the millennium B.C....
Nigel Mansell won the 1989 Hungarian GP from 12th on the grid. (Photo: LAT Photographic)
With this weekend’s Hungarian Grand Prix, Formula One reaches the summer break – four weeks of much-needed vacation for the teams after months of travel, rebuilds and racing.
Basically, no one connected with the cars is allowed inside the factories until the time comes to prepare for the Belgian GP at Spa-Francorchamps in September. That will add an extra air of anticipation this weekend at the Hungaroring, as mechanics and engineers, weary from flying all over the world since mid-March, contemplate time with their loved ones, or perhaps just an afternoon under a tree with a good book. Personally, I would tarry at least a few days before leaving Budapest.
I’ll never forget my first visit to Hungary for the 1989 race, just the fourth running since it became the first Grand Prix to be held behind the former, unmourned Iron Curtain. Having grown up in the era of the Cold War, the space race, Khrushchev threatening to “bury” the U.S., and the Cuban missile crisis, the idea of flying into the old evil empire was pretty exciting. Despite travel to such exotic locations as Saudi Arabia and South Korea, Hungary left me with a list of personal ‘firsts,’ including my first flight on a Russian-built aircraft, courtesy of Hungarian airline Malev.
I landed in a strange world, starting with the Budapest airport: a sterile, boxy old structure in the style of Eastern Europe following World War II. During my cab ride into town the driver offered to exchange some of my dollars while stopped at a traffic light, leaving me a moment of doubt as to whether he would continue the trip if I declined (I did, but he did, too). Driving my rental car in the city, I was stopped by a young man claiming to be a police officer (I wasn’t sure whether cops in Budapest actually worked hatless, with their shirts open to the waist, but he was carrying a serious-looking gun on his hip, so I didn’t bother to ask). We couldn’t achieve clarity on exactly what my offense was, but he conveniently accepted cash on the spot. If there was an upside, it was that the US dollar went a LONG way back then.
Hungary is a country with a history dating back to the far end of the millennium B.C., with a long streak of independent thinking and democratic government. The early Hungarians even elected their kings! In 1989, the year before the collapse of Communism, the buildings in Budapest still displayed the red stars required of satellite states of the USSR, along with a thick layer of grime and plenty of scars from the gunfire of the 1956 Soviet invasion. Despite this, Budapest, split by the blue Danube (Buda on the hills to one side, Pest on the flats across the water) was, and is, a wonderful combination of east and west, with incredible architecture and great restaurants. The Hungarians also seemed to like Americans, with evidence from the inspiring (boulevards named for Roosevelt and Kennedy) to the puzzling (an endless recording of “Home of the Range” that played in the lobby of the Intercontinental Hotel).
The Grand Prix itself was a perfect example of a country coming to terms with the nuances of western-style show biz. The track was built on a tract of land barely large enough for the project, with little space for parking and access limited to a dirt road originating behind a highway truck stop. The infield of the Hungaroring was completely unimproved, allegedly because the woman who owned it would not sell to the track developers. We had no overhead shots for our television coverage, and VIPs were limited to ground transport, due to a ban on helicopter traffic in the name of security. This vestige of government paranoia was loosened just enough for the mandatory medivac chopper.
The track layout is not conducive to great racing, being rather short at less than two and half miles around with lots of slow corners. It has been described as “Monaco without the buildings” with good reason. My memories of Hungary ‘89 would probably not include the race at all were it not for Nigel Mansell. In his first year at Ferrari, Mansell was simply a force that day, launching from 12th on the grid and passing cars everywhere. With about twenty laps to go he was dogging leader Ayrton Senna’s McLaren when the two rocketed through the downhill turn three to find Stefan Johansson struggling with his Onyx in the middle of the road. Senna jinked right, Mansell left, but Senna paused for a split second, while Mansell never lifted, and went on to victory. Proof for all time that you CAN pass at the Hungaroring, if you are, er, “hungary” as Mansell was in ’89.
Sorry, couldn’t help myself. I’ll be here all weekend. Try the goulash.
The opinions reflected herein are solely those of the above commentator and are not necessarily those of SPEED.com, FOX, NewsCorp, or SPEED
Basically, no one connected with the cars is allowed inside the factories until the time comes to prepare for the Belgian GP at Spa-Francorchamps in September. That will add an extra air of anticipation this weekend at the Hungaroring, as mechanics and engineers, weary from flying all over the world since mid-March, contemplate time with their loved ones, or perhaps just an afternoon under a tree with a good book. Personally, I would tarry at least a few days before leaving Budapest.
I’ll never forget my first visit to Hungary for the 1989 race, just the fourth running since it became the first Grand Prix to be held behind the former, unmourned Iron Curtain. Having grown up in the era of the Cold War, the space race, Khrushchev threatening to “bury” the U.S., and the Cuban missile crisis, the idea of flying into the old evil empire was pretty exciting. Despite travel to such exotic locations as Saudi Arabia and South Korea, Hungary left me with a list of personal ‘firsts,’ including my first flight on a Russian-built aircraft, courtesy of Hungarian airline Malev.
I landed in a strange world, starting with the Budapest airport: a sterile, boxy old structure in the style of Eastern Europe following World War II. During my cab ride into town the driver offered to exchange some of my dollars while stopped at a traffic light, leaving me a moment of doubt as to whether he would continue the trip if I declined (I did, but he did, too). Driving my rental car in the city, I was stopped by a young man claiming to be a police officer (I wasn’t sure whether cops in Budapest actually worked hatless, with their shirts open to the waist, but he was carrying a serious-looking gun on his hip, so I didn’t bother to ask). We couldn’t achieve clarity on exactly what my offense was, but he conveniently accepted cash on the spot. If there was an upside, it was that the US dollar went a LONG way back then.
Hungary is a country with a history dating back to the far end of the millennium B.C., with a long streak of independent thinking and democratic government. The early Hungarians even elected their kings! In 1989, the year before the collapse of Communism, the buildings in Budapest still displayed the red stars required of satellite states of the USSR, along with a thick layer of grime and plenty of scars from the gunfire of the 1956 Soviet invasion. Despite this, Budapest, split by the blue Danube (Buda on the hills to one side, Pest on the flats across the water) was, and is, a wonderful combination of east and west, with incredible architecture and great restaurants. The Hungarians also seemed to like Americans, with evidence from the inspiring (boulevards named for Roosevelt and Kennedy) to the puzzling (an endless recording of “Home of the Range” that played in the lobby of the Intercontinental Hotel).
The Grand Prix itself was a perfect example of a country coming to terms with the nuances of western-style show biz. The track was built on a tract of land barely large enough for the project, with little space for parking and access limited to a dirt road originating behind a highway truck stop. The infield of the Hungaroring was completely unimproved, allegedly because the woman who owned it would not sell to the track developers. We had no overhead shots for our television coverage, and VIPs were limited to ground transport, due to a ban on helicopter traffic in the name of security. This vestige of government paranoia was loosened just enough for the mandatory medivac chopper.
The track layout is not conducive to great racing, being rather short at less than two and half miles around with lots of slow corners. It has been described as “Monaco without the buildings” with good reason. My memories of Hungary ‘89 would probably not include the race at all were it not for Nigel Mansell. In his first year at Ferrari, Mansell was simply a force that day, launching from 12th on the grid and passing cars everywhere. With about twenty laps to go he was dogging leader Ayrton Senna’s McLaren when the two rocketed through the downhill turn three to find Stefan Johansson struggling with his Onyx in the middle of the road. Senna jinked right, Mansell left, but Senna paused for a split second, while Mansell never lifted, and went on to victory. Proof for all time that you CAN pass at the Hungaroring, if you are, er, “hungary” as Mansell was in ’89.
Sorry, couldn’t help myself. I’ll be here all weekend. Try the goulash.
The opinions reflected herein are solely those of the above commentator and are not necessarily those of SPEED.com, FOX, NewsCorp, or SPEED
Spanish Grand Prix
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