Gridlocked Hearts

I

Welcome to the Yas Marina Circuit in Abu Dhabi, where the tension is palpable for the final race of the 2023 Formula One World Championship. As we approach the final showdown, all eyes are on the two front-running teams. Red Bull boasts the expertise of Enzo Bucci and Stefan Berkhoff, both of whom have delivered exceptional performances this season. However, Ferrari has been making headlines with Sander Moe's unexpected retirement announcement and the impressive skills of 22-year-old Claude Beaufort, who has a shot at becoming the youngest-ever Drivers' Champion with a podium finish today. We will certainly be in for one of the most intense Grand Prix that I have seen in a long time.

Claude gazed intently at his own reflection, drawing a deep breath and steeling himself for what lay ahead. Within a mere three hours, he would emerge victorious as a world champion. This was a destiny that had been woven into the very fabric of his being, since the tender age of three, when he first set foot on the karting track. His success in the F3 championship, at the young age of fifteen, had only served to solidify his conviction that he was destined for greatness. Claude Beaufort was a born winner. And he would do everything he could to get there.

Around him, the Yas Marina Circuit was alive with a frenzied energy, unlike anything he had experienced since the opening race. The humid air was thick with anticipation, as his team worked tirelessly to prepare the car for the final race of the season. Sander, his Norwegian teammate, cut through the noise with reckless abandon. He was attempting to sing some pop song, much to Claude's amusement. He caught his eye and smirked, causing Sander to give him the middle finger in jest.

This race was the last time they'd have an exchange like this. The last time they would be in the paddock together; the end of what fans had dotingly labeled "Moefort". The two time world champion had announced his retirement at the end of Monza. With two kids already, and a third on the way, he wanted to spend more time with family, and after all, Ferrari needed new talent. He'd been with them for over 12 years and he was nearing 40. Claude knew it was time, but couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness, knowing that things would never be the same again.

"You know you've been staring at yourself for over 10 minutes?" Sander's voice was laced with affectionate exasperation as he chided the Frenchman for his prolonged self-admiration.

Claude grinned, playing up his charismatic charm. "Ah, but the view is spectaculaire, non?" He puffed out his chest, admiring the rippling muscles and tanned skin that stared back at him from the mirror.

Sander rolled his eyes, his lips curling into a wry smile. "You are so French," he observed, the hint of a sigh in his voice.

"merci mon chéri," Claude winked, attempting to embody all the flamboyance and charm of his French heritage. Sander smiled but it did not quite reach his eyes. He reached a hand to rest on Claude's shoulder in a rare display of tenderness, unlike his usual stoic demeanour.

"Good luck today," He said gently, squeezing him softly. The action took the young driver by surprise and he nodded, patting his hand with his own. Despite driving together for three years, this was probably most contact they had ever shared.

"When I see you again, it'll be on the podium," Sander said, his voice filled with conviction. "That's the only retirement gift I want." There was a glimmer of wistfulness behind his eyes and Claude smiled, despite the lump forming in his throat

"And that is the retirement gift you will get, vieil homme," Claude replied, using the French term for "old man" with a playful grin.

Sander rolled his eyes, the corner of his lips quirking up in a rare display of amusement. "I don't know what that means," he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief, "but if I google translate it and it's rude, I'm purposely crashing into your car!"