Full Throttle

Parallels

I woke up at 8.00am on the Saturday an got ready relatively quickly, packing some breakfast in my bag for when I got to the Paddock. The walk to the track was nice. It was scenic. The music in my ears from my headphones made me relax and take in the views. Arriving at the check-in points at 8.45am, there was inevitably a lot of journalists, reporters, and cameras, and I spoke to a few of the journalists before making my way to the motorhome to meet with Nick and Katie and eat my food, of which consisted of the usual yoghurt, granola, and fruit accompanied by a smoothie. Katie ran over the events that were scheduled for today, including the post-qualifying press conference and what to expect. The overall atmosphere for today was pretty relaxed, although that was that ever-present sense of anticipation in the air. I walked to my driver's room to get changed, letting my racing suit hand from my waist as usual, and then I made my way to the garage to greet the team and have a few conversations with them. Everything from the engineers was pretty standard, no anomalies, what I could expect track conditions to be like during FP3, which was due to start in half an hour. Nick took me back to my driver's room to warm up my muscles and prep my reaction times by throwing a red tennis ball for me to catch with my left hand and a green tennis ball to catch with my right. It was the usual exercises: activating my neck muscles and just getting me warm. I grabbed my headphones, phone, and skipping rope and headed out the front and into one of the courtyards near the motorhome, elevating my heart rate and making sure that I was all set to go. A few fans came up to me and I signed a few pictures, hats, shirts, and other merch and posed for some pictures. I was getting used to it at this point, but I still thought that it was fucking awesome. Nick came out to fetch me and we walked together into the garage, chatting as we did. It was 5 minutes until the practice started, and we wanted to get out right at the beginning. I put on my gear and swung my legs over the halo, into the car, settling myself in and putting my gloves on and then my steering wheel. Jonathon updated me on track conditions and strategy again, and then it was time to go. I pulled out of the garage and did my out-lap, getting a radio check and then accelerating out of the final Turn to start pushing the car, slipping into 8th gear and reaching 190mph with DRS activated. I felt the car giving it all under me as I braked late and pushed the car, really seeking out the limits so that I could do my best later in Qualis. I felt at home, I felt in my element, and I really looked forward to the race tomorrow. I came back in after a few laps on team orders. That was it until 2 o'clock this afternoon.

"Let's go, Jessie! P7, fucking brilliant, well done. You'll be in good contention for tomorrow," Nick said, slapping me on the back as I got out of my car. I took my helmet and balaclava off, a wide grin showing on my face. I said my 'thank-you's to the team and went to get changed into jeans and my blue Toro Rosso t-shirt, adding my Toro Rosso cap. I went to the McLaren garage, congratulating Lando on P6.
"I'm gonna get you next time," I said.
"I'll believe it when I see it, Jess."
"Chica! Congratulations, that was a good Quali," Carlos said, waking towards me.
"Gracias, Carlos."
"What do you say we get a beer together tonight?" he asked. I sucked my teeth, faking a tut.
"I can't, I'm afraid. I've got to go and find a guy at the nearest bar to bring back to the hotel so I can keep Lando up all night. Strategies, you know?"
Lando glared at me as Carlos laughed.
"Oy, chica, I need to speak to you about something, actually. Walk with me?"
"Uh, sure."
We walked out of the garage, leaving Lando to talk with his trainer, John.
"What do you need to talk to me about?"
"Can we speak in Español?"
"Sí."
"I just want you to know that if you ever feel like hurting yourself again, you can call me, and I will always pick up to talk to you. When I saw those scars at the pool, it broke my heart," he said, slowing down the speech to make it easier for me and my rudimentary grasp on the language to understand what he was saying. I was surprised at the sudden change of conversation, and it took me a few seconds for the right words to form in the right dialect.
"Thank you, Carlos. I'm sorry that I maybe shocked you."
"No, no, chica, you don't have to apologise. I just want you to know that I am here for you."
"Thank you."
"Also, your understanding of my language is very good, as is your accent and pronunciation, I am impressed. It is much better than Lando," Carlos chuckled, walking back to the garage.