The 2026 F1 regulations have forced engineers to set new targets for every single macro-area of the cars: aerodynamics, mechanics, power unit, and cooling. We are facing an unprecedented technical revolution, perhaps the most radical in my 57 years in the paddock.
The absence of real benchmarks from the past has forced engineers to work completely in the dark. Initially, I had planned to reduce my travels to focus on writing a book due out in 2028. However, the monumental scope of these technical innovations prompted me to return to the field.
We are witnessing unprecedented solutions, made possible by a completely blank-sheet set of regulations. Whenever a new technical cycle begins in Formula 1, what makes the difference isn’t so much what the rules prescribe, but what they omit—those grey areas where a designer’s ingenuity can make a profound impact.
Ferrari’s SF-26 Ingenuity: The Macarena Wing and FTM Exhaust
In this scenario, Ferrari has introduced two highly interesting solutions, which were already showcased during pre-season testing in Bahrain. The first is the so-called “Macarena” wing, a concept that the previous regulatory framework would have banned due to packaging dimensions. The other major innovation involves the exhaust, known in technical jargon as FTM (Flick Tail Mode).
It consists of a flap system mounted directly at the exhaust outlet to manipulate the exhaust gases, conceived from the very earliest design phases by positioning the gearbox spacer in a way that perfectly exploits the FIA legality box. These details reveal an extremely reactive Scuderia.
Despite not having secured a victory yet, the Rossa is the team that has introduced the most effective innovations, to the extent that they have already been copied by the competition. Right in Miami, almost every team was sporting a Ferrari-inspired exhaust, while Red Bull itself took cues from Maranello’s rear end to finalize their own version of the Macarena wing.
Newey and the Extremism of the Aston Martin AMR26
Shifting the analysis to Adrian Newey’s first project for Aston Martin, it is clear that the British genius went too far with the AMR26. This isn’t the first time Adrian has pushed a car to the absolute limit; one need only think of the Leyton House he designed, driven by my friend here with me, Ivan Capelli. Newey himself confessed to me after testing it that climbing into the cockpit was practically impossible.
Today, history seems to repeat itself, compounded by a Honda power unit that is not up to the task. This engine is the product of a department hollowed out by a mass exodus to Red Bull, which, under Christian Horner’s management, absorbed around 200 veteran engineers from the Japanese manufacturer.
While trying to illustrate the Aston Martin AMR26 on paper, I realized the immense complexity of the project: a mosaic of extreme solutions, such as the monolithic front suspension wishbone or the inboard mounting point of the rear leg of the upper wishbone. At first glance, the latter appeared to be linked to the rear wing pillars, but it actually attaches to the rear crash structure, which was purposefully elevated during the design phase.
The real technical tragedy for Aston Martin is that such an aggressive packaging layout leaves absolutely no regulatory margin to radically alter the car’s design. The team is quite literally in trouble because there is no room left to make adjustments. The sidepods feature an unprecedented lower undercut, and beneath the bodywork, every internal element leaves mere millimeters of clearance to the mechanical components. As far as I’m concerned, Newey went decisively over the top this time.
The Historical Precedent: The March 881 and the Burnt Clutch
This tendency toward extremism is confirmed by the memories of Capelli himself and Umberto Zapelloni. The March 881, the first single-seater designed by Adrian, was undeniably fast but imposed severe physical constraints. The driver’s cockpit space was reduced to the absolute minimum: the steering wheel measured a mere 25 centimeters in diameter, and there was no trace of power steering.
The pedal box (comprising the throttle, brake, and clutch) was so compromised that it didn’t even leave room for a footrest. It lacked an L-shaped bracket fixed inside the monocoque, which would have been useful for bracing the leg and managing the immense centrifugal forces in high-speed corners.
Drivers were therefore forced to brace themselves improperly against the left pedal, inevitably burning out the clutch in the opening races. This was an ergonomic necessity that Adrian, fully focused on pure aerodynamic efficiency, had completely failed to consider.
Moreover, as I had suspected at the start of the season, Adrian himself confirmed to me that he had channeled the entire experience gathered during his March days into Red Bull’s wing car technical cycle. An almost natural transfer of knowledge, also utilized at Aston Martin, considering that as early as 1988 the British engineer had introduced a chassis with a V-shaped lower section to optimize the car’s dynamic behavior.
