THE ROOKIE driver ✔

Chapter 17: Autodromo Nazionale di Monza

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September in Italy brought more than just cooler air; it carried a vibrant, electric energy to the Autodromo Nazionale di Monza. The place felt alive—there was a hum, a rhythm to it that was unmistakable. The track shimmered under the late-summer sun, and with it came the buzz of fans, the chatter of crews, and the unmistakable roar of engines firing up, all building toward one of the most anticipated events of the season.

For Matteo Rossi, this was it. Monza was special— "the" race in his home country, and a chance to show the world just how far he'd come. It wasn't just another race; this was personal. The pressure was real, and the stakes were high, but Matteo thrived in moments like this, the tension mixed with excitement, especially since the last race. His confidence had gone from the lowest of low to suddenly spike though the roof and stanning ready for the next race was like feeling the rush of adrenaline and a calm focus all at once.

Early in the day, Matteo found himself wandering through the paddock. The scene around him was chaotic but somehow familiar, mechanics shouting over each other, engineers poring over data, fans trying to catch a glimpse of their favorite drivers.

He followed his usual routine, the same one he had perfected over countless race weekends. There was a comfort in the repetition. First, he headed to his garage, where his car was already waiting, gleaming under the lights like it was ready to be unleashed. Matteo greeted the team with quick nods, exchanging a few words of encouragement before turning his full attention to the machine that would carry him around Monza's legendary curves.

His fingers traced the familiar contours of the steering wheel, feeling every groove and button, like a pilot double-checking his controls before takeoff. He didn't just sit in the car; he immersed himself in it. He closed his eyes for a second, visualizing the race, seeing himself flying down the long straights, braking hard into the tight chicanes, and navigating the tricky Parabolica with precision. He could already hear the deafening roar of the crowd as he blasted past the grandstands. Every lap was playing out in his mind, over and over, like a movie reel he had memorized.

The noise, the rush, the anticipation—it didn't overwhelm him; it fed him. This was where he belonged. Matteo knew that today wasn't just about making the podium; it was about making his mark, showing everyone that he wasn't just the kid with potential anymore. He was here to win.

The day had only just begun, but Matteo could feel it in his bones—something special was about to happen. Monza had that kind of magic.

"How's she feeling today?" a voice piped up snaping Matteo out of his thoughts. He looked up to see Tony leaning casually against the car, his hands in his pockets. Tony was a seasoned veteran in the garage, someone Matteo had come to trust deeply

Matteo looked up and shrugged slightly. "Feels good. I think we've got a solid setup this weekend. Just a bit too much understeer in the slow corners, but it's manageable."

Tony nodded, his brow furrowing in thought. "We could tweak the front wing a bit if you think it'll help. But sometimes it's better to stick with what you know."

Matteo considered this for a moment before shaking his head. "Nah, let's leave it as it is. I'd rather not mess with it too much at this point. Better to go with something predictable, even if it's not perfect."

Tony grinned, clearly approving of Matteo's decision. "Smart choice, kid. You're starting to think like a real racer"

Matteo smiled back, appreciating the compliment. "Thanks, Tony. It's all about finding that balance, right? Pushing just enough but not too much."

As they continued to chat about the car, Matteo's attention was suddenly drawn to a commotion near the pit wall. A group of young fans had gathered, and at the center of their attention was a familiar figure, leaning casually against the wall as if he owned the place. Giovanni Rossi, Matteo's father, was there, dressed sharply in a designer jacket and sunglasses, engaging with the fans with the ease of someone who was used to being admired.