One race done and already the muttering about cheating has started. Ron Dennis has been hinting that Ferrari’s speed can be partly attributed to a flexible floor on the cars. Since the scrutineers had a good look at this during their inspection, it may be that Ron made sure that they heard a rumor.

The point is that, if the floor moves downwards at speed, it can alter the under-car aerodynamics and lessen drag, thereby allowing more speed on the straights. That would show up on the speed traps but you could disguise it by increasing the wing angles, thus slowing the car to a believable speed on the straights but reaping the benefit of extra downforce in the corners. All of which would be illegal under the “no moveable aerodynamic devices” rule.

The scrutineers passed the cars in Melbourne but this does not necessarily mean that something underhand is not going on. Apparently, they test at the moment by looking only at upward flexing of the floor – but it would be downward pressure that would clear the matter up once and for all.

Naturally, a lot of people are saying that it’s just Ron looking for excuses for his own cars not being as fast as the Ferraris. But that presumes that he knew before the race that the McLarens would be beaten. It is far more likely that his concern is genuine, having noticed the complex arrangement for keeping the Ferrari’s floor in place at the front.

Probably, Ron hopes that the rumor will activate the FIA and they will have a quiet word in Ferrari’s ear to tell them to get rid of the system. That would be the most sensible way to proceed, avoiding any possibility of legal action and a continuing unseemly fight throughout the season. F1 has had enough of those, surely, with the mass damper fiasco fresh in everyone’s mind and the customer car row about to enter litigation.

This is the kind of thing that happens when the rules become so all-embracing and extensive, however. With the importance of aerodynamics and every constructor having wind tunnels, the cars get ever closer in design and performance increases become a matter of subtle and sometimes dubious tweaks. Since every designer is looking for ways to gain an advantage, it is no wonder that they work in areas that are not completely dictated by mandatory measurements.

And that means they push the boundaries of legality on occasion, thereby forcing the FIA to be even more stringent on what they will allow. It is an endless cycle of increasing complication that needs to be stopped before the rules become so limiting that there is no difference at all between the cars, apart from the color scheme and badge on the front. How do you do that?

Well, you could start by simplifying everything immediately; extend the flat bottom from nose to tail, for instance, and let the designers work out how they are going to cope with that. But it’s a long subject and I could best sum it up with the philosophy of “We need less regulation, not more.”

Over at F1-Fanatic, Keith Collantine asked the question, “Which Manufacturers Will Quit (F1)?” and received a long reply from Number 38 of Halifax VA. Now, I like Number 38; for one thing I learned from a previous comment of his that he’s even older than I am. And Keith’s answer, including the fact that he’s not old enough to remember the introduction of the Tyrrell six-wheeler, set me to thinking of the first innovation in F1 that I was witness to.

I started watching Grands Prix in 1962 – which means that I just missed Cooper’s revolutionary idea of putting the engine in between the driver and the rear axle. But I can remember when Colin Chapman introduced the monocoque to F1, thereby consigning the spaceframe to the scrapheap. Although monocoque chassis had been around for a while in production cars, racing cars still relied on the tried and tested formula of welding tubes together to make a frame (known as a spaceframe) and then bolting body panels to it. The monocoque made the body into the frame upon which everything else was hung.

In Chapman’s hands, the monocoque became a large tube that housed the front suspension and driver; he then bolted the engine to the rear of the tube and hung the rear suspension on the engine. The resultant saving in weight enabled him to build a car that was much more nimble and just as strong as the other cars – the mighty Lotus 25 that Jim Clark used to such good effect.

And so the spaceframe welder’s art disappeared into history. I say art because the development of the spaceframe had led to some incredibly intricate and complex constructions from steel tubing; and the high point was probably not a F1 car but a sportscar known as the Birdcage Maserati (for obvious reasons).

The Birdcage was introduced in the dying days of Maserati’s involvement in racing – after their withdrawal it was the French Maserati dealers who tried every year to win at Le Mans with the original design supplied with various bodies. The car was very quick and invariably established a lead over the pack of Ferraris and Aston Martins in the early stages of the 24-hour race. But it was fragile as well and, sooner or later, something would break and it would be retired. It became almost a tradition that the Birdcage would be the hare in the first couple of hours at Le Mans but, in the end, reality had to be faced and the Maserati disappeared from the entry lists.

Take a look at the photograph above that shows the Maserati’s spaceframe. It is a model of the real thing but gives some idea of how complex a structure it was. Before the Lotus 25, all F1 cars were constructed in this way; after it, they went monocoque, chassis-less in effect, unless you regard the body as the chassis.

Chapman’s revolutionary idea also illustrates perfectly one of the most important rules of design: simplicity is always better than complexity. Colin had the vision to see that the spaceframe had become too complicated to develop further and something much simpler was needed. It was a logical step to use the existing technology already present in production cars – but it took genius to see that.

It looks as if Ferrari-style wheel inserts are indeed going to be used by other teams in 2007, if this photo of the Renault in testing is anything to go by.

Although a protest was never mounted against the inserts, it can hardly be denied that they serve an aerodynamic function, whether or not they assist in brake cooling. This is the official F1 site’s view on the matter:

Ferrari 248 F1 – brake cooling drums

This interesting feature used in Malaysia is an evolution of similar devices seen on cars last year, but Ferrari have taken it to its extreme. The cooling drum not only covers the brake disc and calliper, preventing heat being transferred to the wheel rim, it also creates a seal of sorts with the wheel itself. It completely fills the space inside the wheel rim, not only improving brake cooling, but also dramatically reducing the vortices generated by the rotation of the wheels, hence making this area more aerodynamically efficient.

At least that is an admission that the inserts do have an aerodynamic effect. I suppose the argument is that this is not their primary purpose; they are there to keep the wheel rim cool and any aerodynamic effect is purely incidental. Which is fine until you notice that the inserts are used only on the rear wheels.

Something seems wrong there – the front brakes do most of the work as all the weight of the car is thrown forward as soon as it begins to decelerate. And that means they get hot, considerably hotter than the rear brakes. Surely any heat protection for the wheel rims should appear on the front wheels first; and, if the system is that effective, why not put it on all the wheels?

Of course, the wheel wells on the rears are much deeper than on the fronts and so they produce stronger vortices and drag and this would argue for putting the inserts at the back before bothering with the front. But would not that call into question the primary intent of the inserts? It is all very mysterious.

Not that it matters, of course. If everyone is going to use them, the playing field is level and we can forget the whole business. But it does make me wonder what the next dubious brush with the regulations will be. That’s part of the fun of F1 after all – watching the engineers and designers slip their tweaks past the FIA.

Like everyone else, I develop preferences for teams as well as drivers. Even though I am hoping that Button wins the championship this year, my support is irresistibly drawn to the BMW team. This began last year when I was supporting Renault (mainly because it was the only team that could beat Ferrari) but increasingly I noticed BMW and was conquered in the end.

It has very little to do with the team itself; shamefacedly I admit that my support generally goes to the car I find most pleasing aesthetically. And BMW has the cleanest, prettiest car on the grid by a long way (it also appears to be the smallest, another point in its favor, although this may be an optical illusion).

They are helped by not having to please a multitude of advertisers, of course; their major sponsor, Petronas, seems happy to go with the BMW corporate colors and the others, Credit Suisse, Intel and Dell, have adjusted to fit the scheme. And the use of white with dark blue and red highlights helps to show off the pure lines of the car.

Compare this to Renault’s problems – having to keep their own yellow and blue but blend in the orange of ING. That was always going to be a thankless task and the designer has made a reasonable fist of it considering the difficulties involved. But the paint job becomes so complex that it obscures the car’s looks; all those extra colors and swooping lines effectively disguise the body underneath.

It is when we get to Toro Rosso that my artistic sense rebels. I would like to support TR as the successors to my old favorite, Minardi, but their paint scheme puts me off immediately. That silly bull plastered over the rear of the car is about on the level of the “flames” painted on the side of street racers, never mind that it makes it impossible to see what the car underneath is really like (I know, I know, it’s like a Red Bull RB3 – go here to see if you can tell the difference).

And, when you consider that Toro Rosso is not exactly overburdened with advertisers all clamoring for their own colors, you have to admit that the cause of this monstrosity is just plain, honest-to-goodness, bad taste. Since the FIA is so keen on introducing new rules to deal with every detail of the cars, surely it is time they set some minimum aesthetic standards to protect our eyesight.

Williams generally have a sensible and quiet enough color scheme but McLaren has ruined its chances with their obsession with a silver that clashes with just about any other color under the sun. And the others hover in the area of acceptability without being objectionable.

So my support remains with BMW; there is one ray of hope on the horizon, however. Word is that the Honda colors, when finally revealed, will be green. And green is the one color that could beat white – think of the gorgeous early Jordans with their 7-Up sponsorship and the short-lived Jaguars in patriotic BRG. But all hinges on the shade chosen; dark enough and the car will look great, too light and it will be vomit-inducing.

For Button’s sake, I hope that Honda have had the sense to be green in as dark a way as possible.