Grand Prix

Apparently in March, in Albert Park, in Melbourne, the golf course is closed, the lake is roped in, and race cars move in.  For the Grand Prix! 

This weekend is the Formula One race weekend.  And the entire event takes place in the park just to the west of us, an easy walk from our apartment. 

Thursday was community day -- free admission.  We walked over from Jonathan's school to see what the racing was about.  We found seats on a bleacher (they don't actually call them bleachers here -- on a stand) and watched ... cars. 

Race cars.  Kind of like Lightning McQueen.  Only not driving in circles.  Driving around a twisty track around the lake. 

Soon after we arrived, there was a demonstration involving a regular Mercedes, one of the V8 engine race cars -- I think it was a Porsche -- and a Formula One race car -- one of the small, one person cars with the funny pointy noses that rides low to the ground and looks like a go-kart.  They gave the Mercedes a 45 second head start, then let the Porsche begin, and 20 seconds later the Formula One race car took off. 

We were seated about 3/4 of the way around the track.  By the time they reached us, twisting around the lake and sliding like in Mario Kart, the three cars were pretty close together, but still in their original order. 

First the Mercedes drove by.  "So what?" asked Jonathan.  The Porsche was clearly a little faster.  But we knew what everyone had come to see when the others in the bleachers (er, stand) stood up with their cameras pointed at the track after the Porsche, waiting with fingers hovering on the shutter button.  We could hear it long before we saw it.  And then --

CHEESE! 

And the Formula One car was gone, leaving a funny smell behind, part burning rubber, part exhaust fumes.  On the big screen, we watched it zip up to the other two and cross the finish line first.  And then we got to see it drive by once more on its victory lap. 

CHEESE!

Ok cool.  Whatever. 

After that we watched some of the v8 cars roll around for a qualifying run, until we were cold and bored.  So we wandered around a little, and found the place where we could get our pictures taken with Lightning McQueen ...

... and his big truck transporter friend.  (Who was that guy?)

And then we went home.

It's loud, by the way.  The Grand Prix is loud.  The cars are very loud.  They sell ear protection at the gate, right there across from the ticket booth where you buy your $80 tickets.  We can easily hear the cars from our apartment.  They zoom around during the daylight hours, making a lot of noise. 

This afternoon, there was no free entry into the park, but as we waited to take the tram to Jonathan's French class, a military jet flew over a few times -- at supersonic speeds.  It sounded like a bomb had hit the street.  The noise was amazing.  People lined the streets staring into the sky, trying to see the machine that had made all that noise.  We saw it a few times as it flew over, but it was too fast, too tight between the buildings, to get a good view.  But we heard it.  Everybody in Melbourne surely heard it. 

And that, my friends, is what the Grand Prix is really about.  Noise, machines, and speed.  Machines moving fast, making a lot of noise.  And paying $80 per ticket to go see it.  Oh.  Sunday the cheapest ticket is $99.

As I'm writing, I'm kind of thinking I might want one of those tickets.