Are Formula 1 Cars Actually Getting Quicker?

Formula One is about reaching the greatest possible peak of engineering and placing the result in the hands of the greatest available driver.

That is to speak poetically, of course. For many, you can answer the purpose of F1 in one word.

Speed.

Regardless of what you thought of F1’s new V8 era, or how you may scoff at the sound of the imminent V6 turbo brigade, I daresay your attraction for the sport will not wane.

Thunderous F1 cars make for music to the ears of some, but rapid F1 cars are an aesthetically appealing delight to all.

As long as the cars from 2014 onwards are quick, people will grow to love them. Look how impressive a feat of engineering the current crop are to have made the V8 batch so quick in comparison to V10s and V12s of turbos past.

The main attraction of motorsports for the masses is the thrill it evokes through a mashing of speed and danger, but there is an argument to be made for the spectacular stuff, too.

It pains me to hear people say they are disappointed when there are no crashes, but ultimately that side of the sport is a dark attraction as well. The likelihood of a major accident (not to mention the on-the-edge ground-effect F1 cars and turbo-powered brutes of the 1970s and ‘80s) made F1 a sexy sport in decades past, but it also made the risk of competition far too great.

As a result, safety campaigns were formed and tirelessly pushed until the required (and utterly justified) restrictions and precautions were implemented by the sport.

In a roundabout way, this brings us back to the subject at hand.

Because of these safety measures, cars were slowed down. Sometimes accidentally, sometimes intentionally—the banning of ground-effect cars, for example). But there have been many measures adopted by F1 that had the side effect of slowing the cars down.

The peak of raw performance is probably 2004.

At this time, we had a tyre war (Bridgestone vs Michelin) and the net result was two companies trying to deliver the fastest tyre possible. Durability was important, obviously, but nothing like the Pirelli era of today.

Stretching back 10 years, F1’s technical regulations were much more fluid. There were fewer restrictions on aerodynamic design, and there were naturally more loopholes to exploit in the pursuit of performance (by a simple logic of it takes time to stamp them out).

Engineers had also spent several years working to maximise aerodynamic performance and to extract as much mechanical grip from the car after the sport adopted grooved tyres in 1998, which reduced lap times further because they offered less grip than slicks.

There was a banning of tyre stops for one season in 2005 that necessitated a switch to harder compounds for the tyre manufacturers (which became one in ’07, with Bridgestone). That year was also the last of the aforementioned V10 era. Naturally, a less powerful engine means a slower car.

However, F1 regrouped once more.

Smarter aerodynamic interpretations led to double-diffusers and F-ducts (not to mention passive DRS systems) while the reintroduction of slicks in 2009 compensated for the tighter aero rules introduced the same year.

The universal adoption of DRS and KERS for cars means that one-off lap times can be significantly faster, even if the overall performance has not increased.

Using a sample set of 11 circuits—Catalunya, Imola, Interlagos, Hungaroring, Melbourne, Monaco, Monza, Nurburgring, Silverstone, Spa and Suzuka—we can take a rough look at the way F1 lap times have evolved over time.

These circuits represent those on the calendar for the longest period of time between the 1970s and the present day. That gives us the best way of looking at how F1’s major technical developments (and restrictions) changed lap times.

For the sake of clarity, the years used are five-year intervals from 1974 to 2004, with individual inputs for 2005 (harder tyres); 2006 (introduction of V8s); 2009 (reintroduction of slicks; tighter aero regs) and 2013 (the end of the current cycle and the peak of automotive engineering).

These numbers reinforce the argument that 2004 was the pinnacle for F1 in terms of outright speed over one lap. Where comparison is possible, that season yielded comfortably the fastest laps over the race weekend at the majority of circuits. Sometimes this difference is as much as five seconds, and that’s largely down to the sheer inability to push for a 100 percent lap in the Pirelli era of F1.

Comparing 2013 to 2009, and the current cars still struggle. At the Hungaroring, the gap is 2.1s. At Albert Park, 1.5s, at Monaco 1.4s. There is nothing between the Nurburgring laps but at Sepang and Suzuka the gap is comfortably 2s.

That they are slower on raw pace is not the fairest indicator of performance, bizarre as it may sound.

Technically, the engineers are probably extracting more speed than ever out of the chassis, aerodynamics and engines.

That does not translate into raw lap times because crucial elements such as tyre performance, engine power and aerodynamic efficiency are limited by the regulations.

So a 2013-spec is not as fast as a 2009-spec car. Nor a 2006-spec car, and especially 2004.

In fact, you have to back to the end of the ‘90s and early noughties to find a model of F1 car that is significantly slower than the current crop. But the point about performance still stands.

Are F1 cars getting faster?

Yes. That’s why they are being slowed down.