It is the end of summer in Australia.
Yet, just moments away, a beginning: a new season.
The drivers hurrying toward the first turn, starting the journey.
Racing for the Formula One World Championship.
The calculations: done.
The designs: done.
Every car new, each shining with promise, full of invention.
It is a time of renewal: the rivalries of team vs. team, of driver vs. driver, the laws of physics vs. the ambitions of men.
Men who live on the edge, conscious that the paper-thin difference between survival and disaster may tear apart at any moment, that luck can be stretched just so far.
There can only be one first race, and this is it.
Today the cars leave the grid with their record a blank slate.
Always ahead: the winning, the misjudgments, the unexpected.
It is a story to be told by the stopwatch, in the language of minutes, seconds, fractions of seconds.
The flickering backlit digits of implacable time, and the watch is about to start.
The Grand Prix of Australia, the opening round of the 2011 Formula One World Championship, is next.
