I think that's the noise Formula 1 cars make as they hurtle around the track at life threatening speeds, that's certainly how it sounds to me.
Yesterday (Sunday) was the last race in this year's season and with 4 drivers in the running for the championship it proved to be a good race. 1 crash - Schumacher spinning before being mounted by Liuzzi (pic from bild.de) where Schumi looked to be inches away from decapitation, but thanks to modern technology the F1 cars these days seem to have life preserving capabilities. Alonso (1 of the 4 in contention for the title) was kept back and away from the leading pack by Petrov (as Alonso clearly saw it, anyway) leading to Alonso coming alongside Petrov after the chequered flag had been waved and 'expressing his anger'.
Sebastian Vettel, a young German, won the championship for Red Bull, the youngest ever (23) F1 champion and was so emotional on his drive in after the final flag you couldn't tell whether he was laughing or crying.
It was great to see the final podium, 3 F1 world champions, Button and Hamilton flanking Vettel, standing tall and proud for the anthems before the obligatory champagne spraying of each other and the crowd.
A friend commented that she couldn't understand my fascination with Formula One, afterall I refuse to watch football or rugby or cricket, which are all far superior and more interesting sports in her eyes - although she is Australian, maybe if Mark Webber had won the championship she'd be singing a different tune? But I blame my parents for my love of speed, or perhaps more specifically my father.
When I was a child we spent many, many weekends at Mallory Park, Oulton Park, Aintree & I think even Castle Coombe, milling around in the pits while my dad was involved in the serious stuff of marshalling for the 750 motorclub, is it any wonder I developed a taste for speed*. I have a very vivid memory of a car being towed back into the pits with water and fish cascading out of it after it had been pulled out of one of the lakes at Mallory Park.
Two years ago I treated Simon to a ride in what's called the 'Ring taxi' - a ride around the Nürburgring in a BMW driven by an experienced racing driver, it's something I'd love to do, but just standing there, in the pits with all the street cars, bikes, vans (basically anything with an engine and wheels can take a turn) racing their engines as they waited their turn to enter the track took me straight back to my youth. The smell is amazing, an intoxicating mix of hot rubber, oil, petrol, exhaust fumes and adrenaline, there's nothing like it.
So now I have to wait until March 14th for the excitement to start up again, I guess I'll survive!
* does that mean I can also blame my dad for my mounting collection of speeding tickets?