Turbulence [𝗠.𝗩.]

♦ Mexico, Race Day ♦

"It's always a question mark as to whether they've got the cooling right at this track with its unique altitude challenge."

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MEXICO
19TH RACE OF THE SEASON
OCTOBER

As Queen's We Will Rock You blares out from the speakers, I'm zipping up my race suit and grabbing my balaclava. It's hotter today than it has been all weekend, but this is a heat I can handle. Just about. It's one step below Singapore.

"We're looking to try and aim five laps above, even with Plan A." Mateo has to shout in my ear over the music. I give him a nod, because I don't fancy anyone lip-reading me.

Yanking my helmet on, I'm quick to get into the car. Another P11 start for me; P14 for Mick. I'm projected to outperform all other rookies by the end of the season, so I have no obligations to play a team race anymore. If Mick can't get past me, it's his problem.

As the car is lowered, I flick my visor down and wait. Twenty seconds later, we're off on the formation lap. The track feels hot as we weave around. The thin air isn't helping, but our adjustments to the car before this weekend will offset it. Like every other team: we have had to add extra vents. It's a sacrifice to aerodynamics on a track where every car will suffer with it, but it's a fair one. Less aero, more chance the car doesn't overheat and spontaneously combust with the driver still inside.

The temperature is too much for us to go for softs, which had been Plan B. Thankfully, we have spare hards because of the prototypes we were given on the first day. We'll have plenty of choice.

The lights above the gantry come on as the last car lines up at the grid.

The engines snarl.

The lights go out.

We roar into life.

The race explodes into momentary chaos at the first corner; I see Ricciardo's Red Bull briefly in the bloody air! He's off, that's his race finished, and whoever hit him... is still in the race? Damn.

I'm vying with half the grid as this all happens, fighting to keep my place as a flurry of different cars try to get past me. I do my best to essentially be sticking my elbows out by occupying as much space as possible without weaving or moving under braking.

I end up behind Räikkönen as we finish the first lap, with Albon behind me.

"Leclerc should be pitting for that. Watch out. His end plate is hanging off by a thread." Mateo doesn't sound impressed. I'm inclined to agree; if he's got damage that he should be pitting to repair/replace, then where the hell is a black and white flag for refusing to do so?

"I'll keep my eyes open."

The end plate does come off over the next few laps; I see the small black lump as we speed past it. Thankfully, my car doesn't pick it up. It would end my race if it hit my floor.

"They're telling him to stay out." Mateo's voice carries absolute disbelief.

A virtual safety car is deployed. We all slow down, as always. But we've missed the pit lane entrance— Ah. The end plate is still out on the track. Right in the racing line. They need us crunched up so someone can safely grab it.

It's stopped by the end of the lap, and we're off again just as I'm told Leclerc has been reported by a few teams for the whole unsafe car thing. Maybe he'll be thrown a penalty, maybe not. It's up to the stewards to decide to look at it

Albon makes a move to get past on lap 7; I refuse to move off my racing line. He has no choice but to go off the track and stay behind me. I have to get ahead of Räikkönen now. Albom keeps making moves at each corner, but the Finn ahead of me won't give me an inch, let alone room to get wheel-to-wheel.