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The Formula One circus is descending en masse on the small principality of Monte Carlo and, as ever, you can forget about the yachts and the parties and the beautiful people - although that side of Monte Carlo is fun, too, admittedly. Rather, for those who really know and/or love Formula One, the Monaco Grand Prix is all about racing fever.
Only at Monaco can a daring 21st-century Grand Prix driver muscle a 21st-century Grand Prix car over bumps and yumps to a lap time that is significantly better than that achieved by his less intrepid opponents.
And it's great to see, and to see at close quarters, which, again, is something you can do at Monaco and Monaco alone.
For the drivers, it's an exhilarating experience - as they readily and excitedly admit. For spectators, too, it's thrilling - but, more than that, it's almost primordially appealing, if a sport barely 100 years old can justify the use of such an adverb. But I think it can, because the concept of racing - and, it therefore follows, of motor racing - has its roots in hunter-gathering just as surely as NASCAR has its roots in runnin' hooch.
