Heartdriven

4. The School Of Formula One

"What are you doing here? Can you excuse me for a moment?" he smiled at the sweet blonde woman and she walked along, over to the blue hospitality lounge.
"What are you doing here?" she threw back at him. He put his hand between her shoulder blades and guided her towards the bench that was outside this team building. They both sat down and smiled at each other.
He lifted his arm and gazed around, "I work here". She looked down the paddock and saw how it filled up with life.
"What do you do?" she showed her interest and thought about if she was crossing the limit set up, if this random meeting confined within the rules of the anonymous date. She would answer any question he had, would he answer hers?
"I work in the cockpit... with the car, in the garage." He smiled at her with curiosity in his eyes, not waiting to question, she answered of her own accord.
"I'm a photographer. One of the regular photographers got sick and needed replacing. I've never done this type of job before but... something just peaked my interest and I couldn't say no." She looked down in her laps and folded her fingers, confident in herself but in a slight search of approval.
"There's a lot of things you haven't done before?" he joked and she let out a reactive grunt, slightly bumping him by the shoulder.
"Ha ha". He took her hand in his and she recognised the familiar comfort he had given her just a few nights earlier.
"Listen, I have a few things I need to do, you know how it goes but... can you come back here later? A few hours. Then I can give you an exclusive tour in the garage, show you around a bit and you can take some photographs?" He was so sweet and kind.
"Really? That would be... just great. Are you sure it's allowed, doesn't your team have assigned photographers?" He let go of her hand and got up from the bench.
"There are a few benefits to working with an F1 team." He winked at her and walked away.

A few hours had passed and she had explored the parts of the paddock she had access to, been trackside, caught a few glimpses of men she discovered were drivers. Not just in red but other colours too.
She was sitting on the bench she had her catch up with John on, waiting for him to show up, looking through some of the photos she had taken. The driver in red was not Michael Schumacher, it was Fernando Alonso, the home hero. High expectations for him and Ferrari.
Who were the others... Oh right, that was Lewis Hamilton in McLaren. You know, she was getting good at this, she thought. Then there was the blue team. Called Red. Not Blue Bull but Red Bull. Pat on the shoulder for her. John worked for Red Bull, but both their drivers, and many other drivers, had done their track walks earlier in the morning to avoid the heavy afternoon sun.
A figure shadowed the sun and she looked up to find John looking down on her, speaking another familiar phrase to her, "Are you ready?"

These Formula 1 cars sure are a lot bigger than they appear in photos and on TV, because walking in to that garage she found herself surprised by how large the space was. John explained the cars were parked out in the pitlane for pitstop practice and scrutineering, he was saying a lot of things she didn't quite understand but held onto his words for memory.
Pitlane, pitstop, scrutineering, parc fermé, tyre deg, slicks, intermediates, DRS, oh my God! This is not something you learn in a day, she got that. John must have known this his entire life and she was struggling to remember drivers outside of Michael Schumacher.
"Would you like to meet one of the drivers? Maybe get some closeups?" Now that were words she could understand,
"Uhh, sure!" She found a free spot on a table and put down her bag, "I, uh, I need to change lens, is that okay?"
He walked backwards away from her. "Of course, I'll go get him," he pointed behind himself with his thumbs and left the garage, while she prepared the change from wide angle lens to a portrait setup.

"This is Australian Formula 1 driver, race winner... Mark Webber", said John entering the garage with a taller and noticeably older man following him.
"Mark Webber!" she blurted out.
"Yep, that's me." He reached his arm out to greet her and she shook his hand.
"Sorry, I'm like... I'm new and still trying to figure this world out, but I recognised your name. Michael Schumacher, Fernando Alonso, Mark Webber. Got it." She tapped her finger at the side of her head.
Mark lifted his arm towards John, "And surely—" but was cut off by John suddenly appearing eager, "Why don't we get some photos taken?"
Mark looked confused back and forth between the both of them but followed through. "Yep. He explained shortly, you wanted some photos. Go ahead. Make my day."

Mark Webber had left the garage again. He had been very friendly and gracious, accepting her business card, in case he was interested in any of the photos. She was putting away all her equipment now, as she could see the sun starting to set outside. The drivers would be heading to their debriefs now, nothing left for her to photograph now other than the backdrop, for which she was not getting paid for.
John sat down on a chair next to the table with her bag while she was packing. "So... you'll be here again tomorrow?" His fingers were tapping on the table.
"Yes. Tomorrow. The day after, the whole weekend. And the next race. And the next. Until the other photographer is well enough to come back. But I was told at least four race weekends. Then... who knows." They hadn't spoke about their private lives before, but suddenly she found herself willing to disclose any detail he desired, after one simple question, but she couldn't help it. It was that comfort he gave her. The warmth, the trust.
"Who knows?" He looked up at her and raised one of his brows in question.
"The bureau did hang the possibility of a tenure, a permanent job... a little carrot." He got up and put his hands on her shoulder as she zipped her bag.
"That's wonderful!" His hand moved to her head and stroked down the length of her hair.
"It could be." She looked at him and smiled. "I hope we'll pass by each other tomorrow. Thank you." She put the heavy bag over her shoulder and walked backwards towards the exit.
He smiled back at her, "We will."