After 22 seasons at the helm of Top Gear, the BBC has decided not to renew Jeremy Clarkson's contract. Effectively fired because of a "fracas" between himself and a producer—he screamed at a member of his staff for half an hour and then punched him because there was no hot food available—Clarkson's departure leaves a void at the top of one of the world's most watched television programs.

The BBC is looking for a replacement and to renew the show for 2016, which won't be easy. "This will be a big challenge and there is no point in pretending otherwise," BBC Director-General Tony Hall said in a statement. It's not clear if Clarkson's co-hosts Richard Hammond and James May, who weren't involved in the melee, will be back next season.

This is the part where we'd usually suggest replacements for Clarkson. Folks like Sabine Schmitz, racer and television presenter for the German version of Top Gear, or BBC presenter Chris Evans, a huge car nut and experienced television personality. Or even Clarkson frenemy Piers Morgan, the former tabloid editor turned failed CNN host.

Instead, here's our suggestion for the BBC: let Top Gear end.

Yes, it generates millions of dollars in revenue and is one of the prize programs on the Beeb. But Jeremy Clarkson is—or rather, was—Top Gear. In 1988, he joined the original show (which debuted in 1977). He oversaw its relaunch in 2002 with his childhood friend Andy Wilman as executive producer. He didn't create the idea of a car show called Top Gear, but everything it is and has been for the last decade is directly attributable to him. His talent made the whole Top Gear world revolve around him. His irreverent wit, obnoxiousness, politically incorrect boarding school humor, and conservative viewpoints gained him a massive and adoring audience—plus an army of haters.

Top Gear without Clarkson, as talented as his two co-presenters are, is a bit like Van Halen without David Lee Roth. Or Roger Waters calling himself Pink Floyd. It's just not the same, and to pretend it is is an insult to the fans.

Richard Hammond and James May, the other two Top Gear presenters, are wonderful entertainers. But, like all great ensemble casts, the three of them are immeasurably better together. Take any one of them away and the whole will be worse. May is the mature and pedantic car expert. Hammond is the excitable little brother, eager to impress. Clarkson is crotchety smart-aleck who delights in pushing others' buttons. He is the one who drives the plot of the show, and the glue that held it all together.

Any one of the three could host their own show (and frequently do), but together they are a once-in-a-lifetime entertainment masterpiece. They seem to agree: In an interview with SkyNews, May said "the three of us as a package works for very complicated reasons that a lot of people don’t fully understand." Hammond tweeted: "Gutted at such a sad end to an era. We're all three of us idiots in our different ways but it's been an incredible ride together."

I am a massive Top Gear fan. I've seen every episode, and am now much more interested in whatever Clarkson (and, I suspect, Hammond and May) do next than in some relaunched Top Gear with new presenters. Make no mistake: The BBC did the right thing in letting Clarkson go. He physically attacked a producer, and being kicked off his television home for nearly three-decades, is a just punishment. Especially since this is a last straw situation: Clarkson's come close to being sacked before, thanks to a long list of questionable moves, ranging from on air racial slurs to last year's did-they-or-didn't-they instigation of Argentine veterans of the Falklands war.

Nonetheless, the man is a massive talent with a huge following, and he will find a home somewhere. Perhaps it'll be on BBC-competitor ITV or—and my gut tells me this is the best option for all involved—he might end up with a huge deal on Netflix. Either way, the biggest loser in all of this isn't Clarkson or the BBC or even the Top Gear brand.

It's the fans. And that's always the way these things go, isn't it?