"All of these cars dream of being on that podium. Even with all the podiums we have, this one is still the best of them all."
⸻
ITALY
14TH RACE WEEKEND OF THE SEASON
SEPTEMBER
I hate this tyre allocation change.
We have it again, for Monza, and it's just as shit as it was before. At least this is a relatively simple track. Only three of the turns require heavy braking, and they can be a challenge for it, but the rest of the track is full throttle.
It's not even the fact we're taking fewer tyres that's pissing me off. It's the change to the allocation. We're given less softs to give us more hard tyres, on tracks where you primarily want softs. Which makes it harder to actually go and use the free practice sessions to their full extent.
But we do need to find ways to make the sport sustainable... it's the same circular thing. Maybe they'll fix it next year, make it easier for the teams whilst still achieving the goal of reducing wastage.
I don't know. Maybe.
The first session was too quiet. We used a set of mediums, but barely scraped the surface of them. It was more a lets just see how the track is session. Mick did the same. For the second session, though, since we didn't really use much of our allocation, we're going to try for some racing runs with our used mediums.
The turn one chicane is - unsurprisingly - my weakness here. You can feel the g-force as it tries to force your head down during the braking. I need to work on how I take that chicane for my race runs...
Red flags are out— ah. I pass by an Aston Martin parked up in the grass between turns 3 and 4. Well, that's unfortunate, but it'll be recovered quickly. I pull into the pit lane, though, as expected, and the guys throw tyre blankets on my wheels as I'm pulled into the garage.
One mechanic points a small fan in my direction, I flash him a quick thumbs up and he gives me one in return. I appreciate it. The car is running hot, and all the machinery around the garages mean you're rarely cold when you're in there.
We don't stay under the red flag for long. When we all pile back onto the track again, it becomes clear that everyone is out. I'm trying to line up for a race run but both Piastri and I end up slowed by Hamilton.
"What the fuck."
"We're on it."
I don't have the energy to be animated about it. Everyone is slowing down to get out on a faster lap. But as I go round and hit another wall of it, ruining my test run, I'm force to slow down to avoid hitting anyone.
"What the actual fuck is this traffic? MOVE." I shout the last word with some force, flipping two fingers at the cars as I go past.
"Everyone is out on the track right now, Jess."
"And?! We're in race cars, put your fucking foot down, guys!"
My next lap goes better as the bulk of the first block of traffic somewhat dissipates. Each chicane tries to challenge me, but I'm easing off before I get to the braking zones to make it easier to retain control of the car.
"Box this lap."
"I need another run. Traffic is fucking with my times."
"Box this lap, Jess."
"Yes, dad."
When I pit, the tyres are changed out, along with the front wing. As smooth as Monza is, bottoming out can be easily achieved if the car is too low, too heavy on the downforce. I didn't notice any issues, but I trust the strategists and engineers when they say it's best for the upcoming race if we give it a go on the other wing.
I head back out after a few minutes, right into more traffic. That I'm not a part of, because I need to do my out lap correctly or I'll waste the set of hards I've been put on. Mick slips in front of me halfway; I almost talk over Mateo as I'm told why.
"Tow practice next two fast laps."
"Copy."
We do it, with Mick towing me first in the slipstream down the main straight, making it easier to keep up, but the traffic has slowly moved to the second sector. We switch places at the end of the lap and I do my best to keep my speed steady before flying off at the end of the first chicane.
But once again, the traffic is costing me precious time. My delta is worse this time around.
"This is a joke, I'm coming in next lap."
"Copy."
In my eyes, this traffic could be dangerous. I'm taking myself out of the situation. I don't want to be caught up in a potential accident. If we don't go back out in the next twenty minutes, I won't be bothered. I've lost my chance to get in a good tester, and tomorrow I have to focus on qualifying.
The mechanics pull down the screen as we wait for some more people to hit the garages, but it looks like that's not going to happen. At least the traffic might be clearing up. Soft tyres are thrown on and out I go again, with just under ten minutes to go.
And my flying lap is fucked. There's a cloud of dust around the turn 11 gravel trap. So much so that I'm not surprised when the flags switch from double yellow to red. That's the session over, for sure. I trundle back to the pit lane, throwing my hands up in frustration as the car is jacked up.
"Well, it's going to be an interesting meeting for us drivers after this!" I declare, as Carlos comes over to put the screens in front of my halo.
"Any chance you can sneak me into it? Record it, maybe?"
"I might do, it's going to be a fun one... I hope we at least can go out to do practice starts. Then this won't be a total waste."
We're back out only a few minutes later; everyone rushes to leave the pits. Behind me, Verstappen starts trying to push for a race as we go round for a second - maybe our last with how little time is left - lap.
I move to the left, shutting him out of the turn 4 chicane entry. He doesn't back off, doesn't let up at all. He can't see the smirk on my lips but it's there all the same. He wants to test what it'll be like racing me? That's fine. I'll give him a taste.
He tries again; I don't take the faking out and force him aside. He has to back off that time, or he'll end up in the gravel trap that's already taken one person out. I keep doing what I can to predict his moves, and since we're allowed to use DRS... I use it, pulling away at each straight, which proves our car has the better DRS. The Red Bull has some weaknesses, it seems.
YOU ARE READING
Turbulence [𝗠.𝗩.]
FanficI knock on the door; I'm greeted by Lando, who goes from a grin to sheer shock in half a second. His eyes are fixed on the Dutchman at my side. His brain is working so fast to process the unspoken information; his mouth is still open from the hello...