For about two seconds I hold Dietrich Mateschitz’s wallet in my hands. It has fallen out of his motorcycle helmet, which I’ve moved from a leather armchair in order to be able to sit more comfortably opposite ‘Mr Red Bull’. I resist the temptation to pop the clip and look inside. It’s slim, black, light and confers upon the holder an immense feeling of power. With this wallet, and access to the resources it represents, Formula 1 teams, football franchises, stunt planes, rocket-men, sky-divers, base-jumpers, white-water rafters, kite-surfers, snowboarders, downhill skiers… can be bought. Creations such as the Hangar-7 aircraft museum/art gallery/luxury restaurant in which we’re sitting, can be plucked from the ether of imagination and given form, made real, in a symphony of metal and glass. Futures can be moulded; different ways of being, envisioned; lifestyles drawn up from a fantastical wish-list to be perfected into a near-Utopian ideal. And the name ‘Red Bull’ can be writ ever larger across the globe.
The achievement of these goals is why the company is involved in F1, of course. From its early forays 12 years ago as sponsor of, then shareholder in, the Sauber team, to
