Going into this weekend's grand prix in Austria, there is a growing sense that we should forget the Azerbaijan controversy and move on.
But what if the fuss had never started in the first place? Can you imagine an incident much worse than the gentle clash of wheels at Baku - and nothing is said about it? I mean, not a peep; not a single word of indignation?
I was reminded of just such an incident last weekend while breathing in the atmosphere at the Goodwood Festival of Speed. Among the many sights for sore eyes was a collection of Tyrrells, including the 003. This particular chassis was as pristine as the rest. But the blue car hadn't been like that at the end of its last race in 1972.
The 003 had been returned to the Nürburgring Nordschleife paddock with the right-front corner well and truly stuffed and its driver, Jackie Stewart, in an uncharacteristic state of rage.
Fighting to retain his championship, particularly on a day when the Lotus of his main rival, Emerson Fittipaldi, had retired with a broken gearbox, Stewart had been recovering from a drop to fifth place thanks to a minor skirmish at the first corner. He eventually reached third place but progress all the way had been blocked by the wide Ferrari of Clay Regazzoni.
With his team-mate Jacky Ickx out front, Regazzoni was keen to give Ferrari their first one-two in almost 14 months. Very keen, in fact. According to Stewart, this amounted to weaving on the 'Ring's single long straight, an unacceptable tactic that increased Stewart's ire as they began the 14th and final lap.
When Regazzoni went wide briefly on one of the twists through Hatzenbach not far into the 14-mile lap, Stewart grabbed what he knew to be his only chance. He drew alongside, but Regazzoni was having none of it. The Ferrari's left-rear stuck Stewart's right-rear Goodyear, spun the Tyrrell round and sent it into the barrier. Ferrari got their one-two.
The journey back to the paddock, if anything, increased Stewart's sense of outrage. Never, in more than 70 GPs, had the Scot experienced such a thing. Ken Tyrrell listened impassively and merely told his driver to see the stewards if he felt so strongly.
Stewart needed no second bidding but was disappointed to find, despite a sympathetic ear, there was nothing the officials could do. There were no witness accounts; no reports from the nearest observer to the scene of the alleged crime. Regazzoni, for his part, wore his bandit grin and said he had merely held the racing line. There was, therefore, no point in lodging a protest.
Stewart gave vent to his feelings in a regular post-race column in the Daily Express. Bear in mind that Stewart, while never afraid to make his views known on safety and other important issues, rarely if ever criticised fellow drivers. Mainly because there was no need. This was an exception. But no one followed it up.
The next issue of 'Autosport' (along with 'Motoring News', the only weekly UK journal carrying a detailed report), made no mention of the incident on their news pages. Not a single word.
The report itself - written by Patrick McNally, later to become the driving force behind the F1 Paddock Club - described the collision in a matter-of-fact manner that concluded with McNally suggesting Stewart really ought to have known better because of Regazzoni's ruthless reputation. Matter closed.
I daresay it wasn't mentioned two weeks later at the next race in Austria. Somehow, I can't see that happening this weekend. Thanks to the mixed benefits of social media, you could say we sometimes know too much.