Sam Machkovech









ELROY, Texas—The FIA has one shot a year to tell a Formula 1 story that's all America, apple pie, and loud cries of "yee-haw!" Currently, that takes place down the road from Austin, the Texas state capital, at the annual US Grand Prix. This past weekend, over 100,000 fans descended upon the barely developed town of Elroy, home of the Circuit of the Americas, to watch the world's fastest F1 racers. (The official attendance figure for the three-day event was 269,899.)

Thanks to random happenstance, I was one of them. What started as a cheap flight to visit relatives turned into my first live F1 race, complete with access to decent season-ticket seats and an experienced F1 fan at my side.

Thankfully, that F1 fan didn't have a specific interest in preaching the gospel of one of his favorite sports, because while I had a perfectly fine time, I cannot say that I'd ever want to go back. My experience isn't a condemnation or major criticism of the US Grand Prix. Still, I offer it as both an outsider impression of the F1 experience and as a commentary on the uphill struggle the sport has in getting this nation, hillbillies and yanks alike, to give a hoot.

The view from turn 15

The Circuit of the Americas offers many experiences for fans who want to drive to the small, unincorporated town of Elroy a few times over the US Grand Prix's weekend-long span. On the event's "pit day," fans can get a very close-up look at the work, tools, and techniques used by an average F1 pit crew, while giant, hydraulic-loaded chairs are attached to racing simulators to deliver the kind of virtual racing experience you won't find outside of the most insane arcades. (Let's not forget the giant concerts staged over the event's final two days, including one of Taylor Swift's only US concerts this year.)

I didn't get to sample either of these, nor any other Grand Prix extra-curriculars. My last-minute Texas trip wasn't planned with F1 attendance in mind. In fact, while the US Grand Prix's best drivers were burning through qualifying on Saturday, the day before the main event, I was entertaining nephews with a markedly different racing experience: a full day at an all-you-can-drive go-kart track. (Consider this a hearty recommendation for the affordable, run-down driving you can do with younger family members at Austin Park-and-Pizza.)

After some last-minute finagling, however, I found myself with a cheap lawn ticket by way of a Groupon and a free ride to the track. "Cheap," in this case, is pretty relative.

"I went to Monaco earlier this year," my F1-loving brother-in-law said as we walked to the Circuit of the Americas from one of the track's paid parking lots. "Even with flights accounted for, that was cheaper than this whole weekend." His costs for this event, of course, included two season passes to the track and passes for his kids on various days, but that's still saying something. A "good" F1 experience at the Elroy track doesn't come cheap. (Automotive Editor Gitlin points out that the Lone Star Le Mans event earlier in the year always represents much better value for money, as long as you can handle the heat.)

Those season ticket passes put us in a covered bleachers section up against the 3.4 mile-track's 15th (out of 20) turn. This viewpoint, shown above, is clearly designed for dramatic views, since it includes four turns in all, along with two relatively lengthy straightaways. Having peeked at the full track ahead of the race, I commented on this spot seeming pretty juicy. That's when my brother-in-law pointed to a set of white "trackside suite" tents ahead of us to the right, which are double-sided and offer views of a windy, four-turn road on the other side. He commented on seeing a bunch of foreign dignitaries in those in the inaugural Texas race in 2012.

Without paying up for such seats, visitors' other option was a series of about half a dozen grassy hills dotting the giant track. These are marked by giant pillars with the turn number, but they're otherwise not marked in such a way as to clarify where's best to sit—nor are they really proofed for issues such as when nearby viewers stand up or bring oversized chairs. Other family members set up camp on one relatively elevated spot at turn 19, and they had chosen this spot in prior years thanks to its mix of visible turns, a giant straightaway, and relatively good viewing angles.

The view from turn 19 eventually became heavily obscured by other patrons, and this happened in spite of us arriving hours early to stake out a decent spot. I looked at maps and other signage when I arrived, however, and probably would not have felt comfortable trying to stake out a spot on my own.

The Circuit of the Americas, like most major racetracks, places giant video screens at each of its major bleacher and sitting spots—because even in the nicest seats, you'll never see more than an fraction of the track at one time. But their presentation felt very lacking; markers for the racers' current order had color markings that didn't match the cars' color, and volume levels for the announcers were dismal at all three spots I sat and watched the action take place.

When Kimi Raikkonen, a driver for Ferrari, stopped his car after a 40th lap pit stop, nobody in my section could make out what the announcers were saying about the driver's choice to brake and reverse back to the pit; we had to rely on an eventual replay of the pit stop and use context clues to figure out that there was an issue with the right-rear wheel. (The actual issue, that a wheel gun was stuck, was never explained by commentators nor shown via slow-motion footage at the event; we didn't figure that part out until re-watching the race at home later.)

Hamilton vs. Mitsurugi

I knew better than to expect Nascar-caliber spills and chills, as F1 races are generally marked by cleaner racing, but this year's US Grand Prix was, as my brother-in-law put it, was a "56-lap victory parade" for Team Mercedes' Lewis Hamilton. The starting order, as settled by the prior day's qualifying rounds, mostly remained intact, and the most intense passing moments were those by faster drivers clearly lapping racers on the other end of the leaderboard.

Which meant there was not much whooping or hollering. The giant crowd was orderly and subdued, with cloud cover keeping the Texas sun at bay on an unusually hot October day. The only audible cheers I heard in any major section came at the race's beginning and conclusion. Having seen a few F1 races on TV, and having played my fair share of racing-sim games, I appreciated the high-level performance on show as drivers carved through turns 12 through 15—and kept speeds ludicrously high through that tight 15th turn into its meaty, follow-up straightaway--but stable track conditions and consistent racing meant nobody really had an opportunity to optimize their way higher in the pecking order. If someone had told me the entire race had been smothered in local caution flags and warnings, I would have believed it.

Much of the main thoroughfare space at Circuit of the Americas is designed with comfort and logistics in mind. Plenty of covered tents full of giant TV screens can be accessed by general-admission ticket holders, so long as they're over 21, and the center pond area contains a giant food-truck parking lot, complete with fatty cuts of authentic Texas barbecue and delicious mixes of fried chicken and fried avocado. Add a convenient series of shuttles from parking lots to the event grounds and some lawn games for racing fans to enjoy while waiting for the race's start, and it all adds up to a more well-rounded experience than simply showing up, baking in the sun, and waiting for the race to start.

Still, overpriced food-truck fare and games of cornhole only get this F1 event so far. The race was a good one for Hamilton, and it was certainly good for taking in a lot of high-level racing (Ferrari's pit crew notwithstanding). But one of my most telling experiences at the race was a 15-minute "battle" I had with my 7-year-old nephew in a grass lawn. Though he's an F1 fan thanks to his dad, by the 15th lap, he had lost interest in the race. Since he's my nephew, he began pantomiming Soul Calibur video game sword-slashing moves in one of the grass lawns. I joined him, because I was proud, but also because the view in his section had become far too obscured, and because, to some extent, there wasn't much else to see from there.

On that day, Hamilton wasn't nearly as wild to emulate as a video game's virtual weapon masters.

Listing image by Sam Machkovech