We were somewhere around Barstow on the edge of the desert when the drugs began to take hold And suddenly there was a terrible roar all around us and the sky was full of what looked like huge bats, all swooping and screeching and diving around the car, which was going a hundred miles an hour with the top down to Las Vegas

As our flight banked around the neon-speckled sprawl of Sin City I wondered once again if I was the only person arriving for the Las Vegas Grand Prix having not read (or pretended to read for social media grandstanding purposes) Hunter S Thompsons classic gonzo novel Fear And Loathing In Las Vegas. I gather it concerns the author following a commission from Sports Illustrated magazine to cover the annual Mint 400 off-road motor race, but then blowing out the job in a blizzard of narcoticsand booze. Apparently, its a savage dissection of the American dream.

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Inside the quirks of photographing F1 in Las Vegas - Autosport