In the fan zone at the Circuit of the Americas, next to a jar of earplugs and a few feet from an industrial sized jug of free sunscreen, sat a 3-inch thick book with heavy blank white pages. Fans were shuffling from the midday heat into the tent where the book sat, writing notes in Sharpie to Daniel Ricciardo, the man whose absence hung over the race weekend like a loved one lost.
“You were my first F1 favorite driver,” read one note in the book. “R.I.R. (Rest in Retirement),” another. “Come to COTA to see you & you weren’t here…so sad.”
