Turbulence [𝗠.𝗩.]

Singapore, Pre-Race Cont

"With weather conditions here, the unrelenting walls, the bumps..."

⸻

SINGAPORE
15TH RACE WEEKEND OF THE SEASON
SEPTEMBER

God, it's hot.

Entering the paddock with Mick, we're both sweltering already. Singapore is burning us up, and we're not even near the cars.

A handful of fans with passes to the bustling, hot paddock rush over. We sign their shirts and caps as fast as we can, pausing with smiles for photos and selfies. But god, do we just wanna get into an ice bath as fast as possible.

"I hear Max shaved this weekend."

"Bastard." I mutter.

Mick throws his head back, laughing at me. "Trouble in paradise?"

"If you mean I haven't seen him until we got here yesterday, then yes." I nudge his side as he laughs at me again. We head towards the hospitality unit, and a reporter quickly tries to get our opinion on the changes made to the track: four corners have been taken out this year. We both shrug and say we think it's a good idea for safety, but if the race sucks, they should put them back.

But then this is a long race. And one of the more physically demanding ones.

The routine of meetings and preparation go past, and I'm in the garage before I realise it's been a few hours already. Inside, amongst the machinery and the cars, the heat is worse. The upgrades to our car - its not too late even if the season is almost over - look good. Our rear wings seem thinner, but that might well make the difference in aerodynamics. As I walk around the side of the black and aqua car - we've not had a special livery this year, just that change to it at Miami - I notice they've fitted the new floor and floor edging to my car. I peer over the half wall separating Mick's side from mine; he has it too. The people at the factory must have been putting in all the hours.

The humidity makes me feel uncomfortable in my racing suit and thermals. That's the thing about this place: the humidity is the killer. The cars might fail purely because of it. Add on that I've never raced here, and this becomes more of a challenge.

Once I'm in the car, there's a fan in my face. It doesn't do much, given I have my helmet on. I appreciate it nonetheless, up until the fans are all removed and I'm sent out. My out lap will be more of an exploratory one. I've walked the track, gone round a few times with Mick, but not I'm actually driving myself around here. And holy fuck do the barriers seem closer than they really are. It's definitely a test of nerves. This is just like Monaco, just like Baku: hit a wall, kiss a wall, and you're fucked.

The car feels grippier than before. I don't feel any smacking on the bottom of the car as I take one of the few kerbs on the track. So that's a good sign. The wide straights are definitely going to be useful for overtaking. But those corners... they're restrictive.

Thankfully, though, most of the usual street markings have been covered up. Only the racing lines catch my eyes. Less visual clutter will benefit me for my first race here.

I hit a snag at turn 12, nearly kissing a barrier. Panic stabs at my chest as I wrestle the steering wheel to get the car away from disaster.

"Check for damage."

"All clear."

"Thank fuck."

As I go around again, I realise that actually, I'm having some minor steering issues. The wheel is fighting more than it should. It's worse at the tighter turns. As I slow down to move towards an in lap rather than just flying around the track, I find its no easier to control the car. This is definitely an issue.

"I'm coming in. I need you to check the steering. This isn't right."

"Stay out. Stay out. We can check from here."

"I'm not staying out when I might throw this into a wall." I'm already pressing the PIT CONFIRM button to alert them that I'm bloody well coming in. The mechanics are there when I do, ready and jacking the car up to bring it into the garage. Fans are installed and another one is pointed at my face.

I sigh, accepting a scrap of cloth to try and wipe the sweat gathering on my face. Flicking the visor up, I do my best to get rid of it all, but I'm limited in movement.

"Thank fuck this is a night race." I say, passing it back to the mechanic, while Carlos starts chuckling.

"It's still a long weekend in this heat!" He's not wrong.

I lean back - which is to say I just shuffle and get a little bit comfortable, whilst they work on repairing whatever it is giving me trouble with the steering. I'm sent back out with about twenty minutes left of the session. It's not idea, but we have enough time to gather data and for a nice little test of a full fuel run on the soft tyres. I follow an Alfa Romeo on my out lap, and as it flies off on a fast lap, I give chase.

"This isn't race day, Jess. Leave the nice Finnish man alone."

"Which Finnish man is it?" I ask, chasing the Alfa Romeo right up to turn 7.

"Räikkönen."

"Hmm... I suppose I'll leave him alone..." Really, I just don't fancy risking it. Everyone has heard the angry radios from Räikkönen over the years. He's certainly had a few interesting ones this year alone. Nobody wants to be on the receiving end of his anger.

Flags go up as a lizard slowly crosses the track at turn nine, I do my best to not hit it. I'd feel bad if I did... but they really should do something about preventing the wildlife form being at risk.

"Lizard at turn nine."

"That's the third today."

"Third?"

"Yep. Alonso ran one over."

"Wow." I pause, keeping my thumb on the button as I keep driving slowly under the yellow flag conditions. "Alonso is mean."