Turbulence [𝗠.𝗩.]

Italy, Race Day

"What a difference a week makes in Formula 1."

⸻

ITALY
14TH RACE OF THE SEASON
SEPTEMBER

I grip my steering wheel tightly, glancing to my right. Oscar is in P8. He's my immediate threat to deal with on the first few laps. We're both starting on mediums. Nobody wants softs.

We head into the formation lap neatly. My mind is going through the possibilities of what Piastri might do at the first turn. He'll have a slipstream from me, if I'm ahead. I weave across the straights, laying down a little rubber that unfortunately will benefit everyone, but I'm being careful in—

As we form up, the lights are orange. That only means one thing: the start is aborted. We have to go around again, on another formation lap. I follow Albon as we go around again.

"Why the aborting?"

"Tsunoda's car. Looks like a total power loss."

"Unfortunate."

I see the abandoned AlphaTauri as we go past; nobody's near it. They're going to red flag us. Otherwise they would have got the car out the way already. We line back up on the grid, and Mateo is on my radio.

"Expecting race start to be aborted. Mechanics are running to the pit lane exits now."

To my right, I see two Alfa Romeo mechanics have jumped the pit wall. They look confused. And then a few more look ready to join the vaulting over the wall. We all sit there, until everyone piles out to the cars. I turn off my engine as the boys reach mine.

"Carlos!" I should at my favourite mechanic. "Why the fuck isn't the car moved?"

"Might be stuck in gear."

Okay, that makes sense.

I get back on the radio, because this means we will need another formation lap. "How many laps?"

"Fifty-one by time of third formation lap."

It's a mad dash to blanket the tyres and get umbrellas up around all us drivers. Carlos opens one up and stands as close to me as he can. It all feels like race control took too long. It takes seconds for these cars to overheat when stationary. They should have opened the gate to the pit lane as soon as the last car parked up on the grid.

"Are we under an actual red flag?"

"No." Mateo sounds annoyed by it. I don't blame him. This technically should be under a flag, since we were undergoing the race start procedure.

The mechanics keep seeing to the car. I flip my visor back down because I know the TV cameras will flit between the drivers - I don't need the distraction of being aware of a camera on my face.

"Formation lap twenty past."

"Copy."

Five minutes. I close my eyes, trying to get back into focus. Some of the crews filter back out to the pits, as we get back into the routine of a race start. I adjust my gloves - the thinnest I have for hot places like summery Italy - and flex my fingers before gripping the wheel again. The DJ music blares, but all I primarily hear is the machinery attached to my car, keeping it from burning up and my engine sitting in neutral.

Before my car is dropped to the ground, Carlos gives me a fist bump and pats my helmet for luck - a routine he's started developing. They push my car back ever so slightly - another routine, but more of a strategy one that many teams do. The extra rubber you can lay on your starting spot can be very useful at the start of a race.