British American Racing Formula One Headquarters - The Ultimate Honda Shop

At first glance, the British American Racing Formula One team's headquarters in Brackley, England, looks more like a golf club than a high-tech factory. An elaborate bridge leads the way across a pond and into a tall, glass-fronted building. It's only here, inside the reception area, that the building's true identity is revealed. Perched on the floor, looking like an extra from a sci-fi movie, is a B.A.R Honda 006.

This is the racecar that catapulted the team from being an "also ran" into a genuine challenger for victory. As of our press time, that first win is yet to arrive, but 17 podium finishes in the 18-race 2004 season suggest it may only be a matter of time. B.A.R finished second to Ferrari in the Constructors' Championship last year, and Britain's Jenson Button was third in the Drivers' Championship.

It was a metamorphosis that caught many by surprise, and we're here to learn about what makes this team tick. For the next three hours, we have exclusive access to what could easily be described as the ultimate Honda shop.

Our tour guide for the morning is Gary Savage, B.A.R's deputy technical director and the brains behind the team's pice de rsistance, the revolutionary carbon-fiber gearbox. At age 44, he is one of the elder statesmen in a team characterized by its youth-B.A.R's oldest driver, Takuma Sato, is just 28. Savage is dry-witted, astute and engagingly blunt. It's clear this isn't going to be a chat with a P.R.-friendly dummy.

He leads the way onto the shop floor, where a carbon-fiber monocoque is resting idly in a work bay. Elements of bodywork hang from the ceiling, but the most striking feature is how clean and quiet everything is. There's no clutter and no trinkets of memorabilia, and the whole atmosphere has more in common with a medical center than a mechanic's workshop.

The tub, bereft of its bodywork, also looks otherworldly. "It has a piston engine pushing it along and it has four wheels, but that's where the similarity between this and a car stops," says Savage. "What it really is, is a jet fighter with the wings turned up."

With the cockpit laid bare before us, it's easy to see what he means, and it's also impossible not to be stunned by how much carbon fiber is used in its construction.

"You wouldn't even find a tactical jet fighter with a cockpit that's all carbon," continues Savage, warming to his theme. "Once you take the engine away, 85 percent of this car is carbon fiber and there's no aircraft flying that uses that much carbon. The grades of materials we use also tend to be several years ahead of what aircraft people use. I worked for McLaren from 1990 to 1996 and one of the materials used on the brand-new Eurofighter was made obsolete by McLaren in '91."

The reliance on carbon fiber also helps to explain why Formula One is so astonishingly expensive. Savage lets slip that the priciest weave used on the car costs the small matter of $460 per square meter, and that's just for the raw material.

Add on the research and development, manufacturing and transportation costs and it's little wonder that B.A.R spends something in the region of $350 million each year.

It's a budget that relies heavily on the backing of Honda. The Japanese company has been supplying 3.0-liter V10 engines to B.A.R since 2000, but for the past couple of years, Honda's engineers have also been involved in the chassis development.

Savage reckons Honda has played a critical role in the team's transformation. He explains that in 2004, the Japanese not only built a RA004E engine capable of producing 900 hp and revving beyond 19,000 rpm; they also contributed to the development of a body that was significantly lighter than its predecessors.

"We realized that in order to shorten the loop in improving the car, we needed to harness Honda's research and development," says Savage. "They have a huge facility at Tochigi in Japan and some very clever people. In the past the two teams worked separately, but we're much better integrated now and 23 Honda engineers work here in Brackley. They're brilliant at working with specialist materials-the bodywork today is 2.5 times lighter than it was two years ago and much of that is due to Honda's input."

The tub itself is 37.5 pounds lighter today than it was in 2002, an astonishing figure when you consider the total weight of an F1 car is only 1,322 pounds.

As if to demonstrate the improvement, Savage leads us into a room where a section of rear bodywork rests on a workbench. Were it not for its awkward shape, we'd be able to pick it up with one hand and yet this structure must regularly withstand forces of around 4g in the heat of a Grand Prix.

As we leave the room, we catch sight of a carbon-fiber gearbox casing. B.A.R remains the only team in the world of motorsport to have adopted such technology, although many teams have tried and failed to make it work.

"You're looking for high stiffness and light weight," explains Savage, matter-of-factly. "Carbon fiber is three times as stiff as metal, so you don't have to be a genius to work out that it's the best material to use. But the 2005 'box already makes the 2004 unit look like a museum piece. We'll look back at it one day and say, 'How on earth could we have done that? It's rubbish.'"

We make our way through a large section of the factory where a pair of ovens bake the carbon-fiber components, and continue to another room, where the engineers are testing the integrity of different components. "There are 3,716 components in an F1 car," says Savage. "The 2004 car carried over just 5 percent of parts from the 2003 car and by the season's end, 75 percent of those parts had been modified."

The attention to detail is astonishing, but it's critical to the team's chances of success. In Formula One, a ride height adjustment of just 1mm can mean the difference between a well-handling car and an evil-handling one. "You measure the tolerances in microns [a millionth of a meter]. Without that sensitivity, you wouldn't be able to compete," says Savage.

When the team first entered F1 in 1999, the cars proved horribly unreliable, but the introduction of new systems has alleviated the problem. "Every critical component is checked using X-rays and ultrasonic imaging every 2000 km," says Savage. "Ultimately, the car consists of bits of metal and bits of plastic held together with glue."

To illustrate his point, he hands us an upper front wishbone. "The main bone contains two types of carbon; high modulus and high strength," he explains. "Then there's the high toughness resin system, titanium ends, carbon ends that also flex and act as bearings, and a tether running through it to secure the wheels in the event of an accident. And that's just one component."

So what does he think is the secret of the team's change in fortunes? "There was no Road-to-Damascus-style revelation about how to make a good car," he says. "It's about 400 people coming in and working a 70- to 80-hour week. We don't sprinkle the car with reliability dust. There is no magic formula." Somehow, in this most high-tech of environments, his answer seems disappointingly mundane.

Our tour is complete and Savage shakes our hands before returning to his day job of trying to design the world's fastest racecar.

It's been a privilege not only to chat with a man so clearly on top of his game, but also to investigate the inner workings of such an extraordinary place. No other motorsport can match the intensity or the sheer indulgence of Formula One. As you read these words, the team will have debuted the B.A.R Honda 007, which, it hopes, will secure its first Grand Prix victory.

Savage turns to go, but we have one more question to ask: If he's not at the circuit, where does he watch the Grand Prix?

"Oh, I go canoeing when the Grand Prix is on," he says with a grin. "There's nothing I can do. I've done my bit. I'm not going to sit here for an-hour-and-a-half shitting myself."