Juan Pablo Montoya always was an enigmatic character. The Colombian would be blisteringly quick on occasion, then appear no more than extremely ordinary, with hardly an in-between in his repertoire. In many ways he reminds of fellow-South American Carlos Reutemann, who, too, won but a fraction of the number of the races his talent promised, and ultimately left Formula One unfulfilled and in somewhat strange circumstances.

'Lole' won 12 Grands Prix in a 146-race F1 career for a 'strike rate' of 8.2%; Monty won seven in 94 starts, giving a similar 7.4%. Both men had their happiest days at Williams, and both had (multiple?) championships buried deep within their souls, titles that even the best team managers were unfathomably unable to unlock.

Maybe, though, as their careers unfolded, both men realized there were some seriously fast Finns about, and each happened to have one as teammate - Keke Rosberg at Williams in 1982 in Reutemann's case, and, more recently, Kimi Raikkonen at McLaren.

But, there the similarities stop. Where Carlos Alberto Reutemann, now a high-ranking politician once in the running for his country's presidency, was, on his day, all silky-smooth style, Juan was a bruiser; a rap, tap dancer to the former's ballet, where the Argentine's departure was murmured to have been driven by massive external pressure, the Colombian's F1 demise could be said to be totally self-inflicted.

Montoya's F1 fate was sealed the moment he stepped on to the NASCAR stage at Chicagoland last Sunday; there are suggestions he saw it coming and figured it was better to make it look as though he had leaped voluntarily, and not been shoved from the sport.

The driver who regularly pushed baby Sebastian's carriage about the paddock just an hour ahead of pulling daring moves out of thin air, who set the world's fastest-ever lap (Monza 2002) and won on the slowest of circuits (Monaco 2003), who was inevitably in the thick of incidents and too often caused them where they were absent, will not again, for the foreseeable future at least, come under Grand Prix starting orders.

And, the method of his departure is entirely consistent with his on-track character.

When F1 Racing magazine reported last April on speculations that Montoya and Red Bull Racing are close to a deal for 2007, it was clear that the married father of one (with another bambino en route) was running out of options after his McLaren-Mercedes contract expired at season's end.

Julian Jakobi and Juan Pablo Montoya © Reuters

At Imola, as in Nurburgring and Barcelona, manager Julian Jakobi was seen scurrying from team to team, and, given that the suave Brit had previously simultaneously directed the careers of arch-enemies Ayrton Senna and Alain Prost without a sweat, the manner of his head-down, determined marches up and down the humid paddocks indicated an increasingly desperate situation.

What, though, makes the matter stranger still is that Montoya's continued presence at McLaren should have been a mere formality - in a perfect world, that is. In December last year, McLaren boss Ron Dennis announced the signing of Fernando Alonso for 2007.

The move was widely expected to push Raikkonen to the point of departure (whether to Ferrari or Renault remains to be announced), and, as such, a level of consistency brought about by another season (or two) with Montoya would surely have been desirable for McLaren.

But, it seems, even the carrot of consistency was not enough to motivate Dennis to offer any form of contractual extension - speaking volumes for Montoya's status within a team highly respected for their benevolence towards employees.

This is, after all, exactly what Formula One drivers are, even if they consider themselves well above the meaning of the word. In the final analysis, drivers are no more than highly paid hired hands, bound by contracts, procedures and policies.

In fact, so serious was Jakobi's body language that by mid-June, it looked increasingly likely that Montoya would be out of F1 by year-end, returning to America's ovals, where he and Chip Ganassi's outfit had won the 2000 Indianapolis 500 and the 1999 CART championship.

As it turns out, a return to the 'Chip and Monty Show' will now happen, and a lot sooner than all the rumours during the US Grand Prix weekend indicated - just that the chosen series, NASCAR, runs with closed cars, not open wheelers.

Which raises the questions: Was he pushed, or did he jump? There is a lot of evidence to support both theories.

Certainly at Indianapolis a fortnight ago, in the immediate aftermath of that Lap 1, Turn 2 accident, in which Montoya's McLaren-Mercedes played more than a bit-part, a McLaren insider, one with necessarily a glimpse into the inner workings of the team, told autosport.com before the crashed cars had even been recovered, "That's it, Montoya's out; Pedro (de la Rosa) is in for France."

Of course, when approached, the team denied all plans to replace Montoya - but, then, they would, wouldn't they? - and, in fact, made soothing noises about the accident having been unavoidable (for McLaren's duo of Raikkonen and Montoya) and a racing incident.

"I think if you look at it, you can regret the outcome. But you cannot say he (Montoya) should have plainly and obviously done something different in a racing circumstance," said McLaren's F1 CEO Martin Whitmarsh that Sunday evening.

Dennis, too, refused to blame Montoya for the crash. "If I thought it served any useful function to apportion blame, I'd do it. But that's motor racing, and it's just a bit frustrating when two of your cars are involved in an incident," he said after the first-ever first lap elimination of both McLaren's entries in the team's illustrious 40-year F1 history.

Juan Pablo Montoya and Chip Ganassi announce that he will drive the No. 42 Texaco Dodge © Getty/NASCAR

Still, Montoya was under siege from various quarters, and it was clear rapid action was required. And, by all accounts, rapid it was: exactly a week, almost to the second, after the Indy incident, autosport.com broke the news that Montoya has signed with Chip Ganassi Racing's stock car team to drive their No. 42 car in the Nextel Cup next season. Sure enough, Montoya and Ganassi lined up in a press conference shortly after, thereby confirming the multi-year deal - one which both parties said took less than an hour to thrash out.

Montoya indicated he was hopeful of securing an early release from his McLaren shackles to compete in the last four Busch races of the series' 2006 campaign, and that immediately set tongues wagging, generating speculation that Montoya could well be out of McLaren within a day or two, with de la Rosa being shooed-in for France (at least).

Why? For various reasons:

1) Ganassi's NASCAR outfit runs Dodge, which is a Chrysler product, and, as such, part of the DaimlerChrysler empire, which, of course, holds 40% of the McLaren Group, and such a move would keep Montoya in the 'family' this year while enabling Ganassi and McLaren to look to their next year's driver line-ups ahead of time and in more practical fashion;

2) Montoya has not, despite winning three races last year, exactly covered himself with glory at McLaren these two years past, and, by many accounts, has hardly been the most conscientious of drivers in the team's history;

3) This would provide McLaren (and Montoya) with an elegant solution to their troubled relationship.

And, so it came to pass that de la Rosa steps up to the Silver's plate this weekend as Montoya busies himself with the technicalities of pushrods and carburetors and climbing through windows.

Immediately after the announcement that the Colombian's robust style would henceforth entertain NASCAR's massive base, potentially impacting upon F1's image and following in the United States, and sure to awaken interest in the premier formula's traditional markets, it was said that Ron Dennis, taken aback by the announcement possibly made in breach of Montoya's contract with the team, decided to immediately replace the Colombian.

So, was Juan actually pushed, or did he jump? More likely he was peering over the edge when he slipped...

And, with that 'slip' F1 lost yet another character, one who certainly enlivened the sport for 4.5 years, even if he did himself few favours in the process. And, unlike Reutemann, Montoya is unlikely to pay his former team boss a social call or two.

But, so unpredictable is Juan Pablo Montoya that he may still stand for his country's presidency...

SIDEBAR

Sidebar: it Runs in the family

Is Formula One about to face serious competition from NASCAR?

A week or so before Juan Pablo Montoya, married with children, made his NASCAR announcement at Chicagoland last Sunday, suggestions emanated from Jacques Villeneuve's camp that the former world champion is considering a switch to the tin-top series that makes up North America's largest motor sporting audience block - live and televised.

That JV's thoughts should turn to NASCAR just as he faces fatherhood - wife Johanna's pregnancy was announced shortly before their recent wedding - is somehow fitting, for the series uses as a base highly modified examples of Detroit metal, and, as such appeals to North American Family Man.

For the equivalent of a few quid, the Family Man can take his four dependents to view non-stop action for a couple of hours. For a few quid more, they can feast incessantly on burgers, 'dogs, fries and shakes, thereby doubling the allure of this home-grown championship, which had its roots in the bootlegger versus FBI adventures of pre-WW2 days.

Montoya's reasons for making the switch have been widely discussed, while JV's are pretty clear: out of contract at season's end, the 35-year-old Canadian, who for manifold reasons has not had a truly competitive car since his championship year, is considered too old for a Formula One team swap.

That he has in Robert Kubica a 21-year-old teammate who is doing an impressive job of hustling BMW's F1.06 about the world's tracks - many of which were, six months ago, just names on a map to the Polish rookie - hardly alleviates Villeneuve's problem, particularly as Kubica seems prepared to drive at bargain-basement rates at this point in his career.

Danica Patrick © LAT

Recent news suggests that the newly married Danica Patrick (24) is also considering the switch from IRL to NASCAR. Hers is a diametrically-opposed dilemma to Villeneuve, though: competing as she is in a weak series (IRL), and, like JV, without a signature come December 31st, she needs to maximize her opportunities.

Yet why the sudden interest in NASCAR from F1 winners and champions, or from an Indy darling?

While there are myriad reasons, including the attraction of racing on one continent, the primary one probably hinges around career longevity - at 35, JV is considered too old for F1; at the same age, in NASCAR, he would have another 20 years earning potential. If he cuts, that is, and so competitive is the series that the chances are fair to middling that even an F1 champion would find himself stretched. Ask Paul Tracy, ask Christian Fittipaldi...

But, given that most NASCAR drivers are in their forties, with more than a few topping 50, JV's (and Montoya's) chances of earning two million dollars for the next 15 years or so are, as Monty, would say, 'pretty good'.

NASCAR has recently cut eight-year TV deals with America's major networks, and its increasing embrace of road circuits - including former F1 venues in Watkins Glen and Mexico City, plus Infineon Raceway in California - adds variety to the 'show'.

And 'show' it is. Up to 400,000 eager punters pack raceways 36 times per year at venues as diverse as Atlanta and Mexico, with Montreal (on the Ille Notre Dam Grand Prix circuit) scheduled to join next year.

F1 can only drool over the sponsor list: Samsung, Coca-Cola and Pepsi are listed, as are Bank of America, 3M,