Chapter 15

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. . .

April 2nd, 2023.

Albert Park Circuit.

The FIA Formula One World Championship.

Formula 1 Rolex Australian Grand Prix 2023.

Melbourne, Victoria, Australia.

. . .

Lap 1:

The early morning sun bathed Albert Park in a bright, golden glow as the drivers took their places on the grid. Rodrigo sat motionless in his car, the cockpit feeling snug and familiar despite the tension building inside him.

The third race. The two before had been anything but ordinary: a terrifying crash in his debut, a sensational podium in his second. But this race felt different. Expectations were high, but the unpredictability of racing—the very thing that had haunted him throughout his career—was always lurking.

"Rodrigo, radio check." Gaetan Jego's voice crackled in his ear, steady and reassuring.

"Loud and clear," Rodrigo responded, his voice steady despite the nerves.

"Great. Let's make this a clean one, yeah?"

Rodrigo sighed as he tried to calm his nerves. He always got nervous in a race no matter how many times he did it.

"Agreed.

"Good. We're starting P6 but the plan is to move up and get to P3. But patience is key. You've got pace on the cars around you, so don't take any risks early on."

Rodrigo took a deep breath. "Got it."

The engine purred beneath him, alive and ready, waiting for the signal to be unleashed. He gripped the steering wheel, his fingers tightening around the smooth surface as the lights above the track began to count down. Five red lights illuminated, and the noise from the crowd seemed to fade away, replaced by the intense silence of pure concentration.

Five lights.

Four lights.

Three lights.

Two lights.

One.

The lights went out, and Rodrigo's car launched forward like a bullet. The roar of the engines filled the air, vibrating through the car as it hurtled down towards the first corner. His eyes scanned the track ahead, immediately calculating his position as the cars bunched up for the tight turn. He was boxed in on both sides but had just enough room to keep his line clean and avoid the chaos that often unfolded at the start.

He was already gaining on the car ahead, weaving through the midfield like a thread through a needle. His tires gripped perfectly on the fresh asphalt, and as he darted out of Turn 2, he found himself side by side with a competitor. Rodrigo instinctively moved towards the inside for Turn 3, braking late and keeping his line tight. The other car, trying to defend, gave him just enough space, and Rodrigo slipped past.

"Great move, you're up to P5," Gaetan's voice chimed in. "Keep this up, you're flying."

Rodrigo barely registered the words, already setting his sights on the next group ahead. His mind was locked into the rhythm of the race—his pulse perfectly synced with the hum of the engine, every corner calculated, every move precise.

Up ahead, a fierce battle was brewing between two topfield cars fighting for position. Rodrigo watched closely, keeping just enough distance to react to any sudden moves. They went wide at Turn 6, squabbling for the racing line, and Rodrigo saw his opening. As they jostled for position, he tucked in behind them and shot down the inside, snatching the place with a daring move into Turn 7.

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"P3 now, Rodrigo," Gaetan's voice crackled again, calm and controlled. "You're making good progress. Eyes on the car ahead."

. . .

Lap 17:

Rodrigo felt the flow of the race now, the rhythm of the laps settling into place. The Australian sun beat down harder as the laps ticked by, the heat rising off the track in shimmering waves. Despite the growing temperature, the car felt stable under him. His focus sharpened with every corner, every braking zone. It wasn't just about speed—it was about precision.

He passed under the shadow of the grandstand at Turn 9, a reminder of the thousands of fans watching, their eyes glued to the action. But inside the car, it was just him and the track.

As he approached Turn 10, Rodrigo noticed the next car up ahead was beginning to struggle with traction. The rear tires of his competitor's car twitched slightly, a telltale sign of degradation. Rodrigo held back for a moment, carefully timing his attack.

"Car ahead is having some trouble," Gaetan noted. "Watch for the exit of Turn 12—he's slow through there."

Rodrigo, almost breathless, squeaked a response, though he didn't need the reminder.

"Copy."

He could see the weakness. As they barreled through the high-speed Turn 11, Rodrigo closed in, feeling the slipstream tugging at his car. The straights at Albert Park weren't the longest, but they were enough for him to plan a move.

On the approach to Turn 13, Rodrigo was right on his tail, the rear wing of the car ahead practically within touching distance. He deployed DRS, the flap on his rear wing popping open and giving him a burst of speed. The other driver moved to defend, but Rodrigo stayed committed. He moved to the inside, braking late and decisively. The car ahead tried to hang on around the outside, but Rodrigo had already taken the position.

"That's P2. You're doing great, Rodrigo," Gaetan said, his voice steady as ever. "How's the car feeling?"

"Stable, everything's working well," Rodrigo replied, his heart pounding, but his voice calm. He could feel the heat of the race settling in, but for now, the car was responding perfectly.

The laps continued to unfold, each corner a new test of skill and endurance. Rodrigo could see the lead cars up ahead, the gap slowly shrinking as he kept his focus. The heat from the track was becoming more intense, but Rodrigo felt in control.

"Gap to P1 is now 8.4," Gaetan updated him. "We're still on Plan A. Stick with this pace."

Rodrigo gritted his teeth, his focus narrowing. He knew that the race would get tougher from here—the closer he got to the front, the harder it would be to make up ground. But he was in the zone, every movement in the car feeling second nature.

The rhythm of the race had settled into something almost hypnotic—accelerating, braking, turning, accelerating again. Rodrigo knew it wouldn't last forever, but for now, everything was under control.

. . .

Lap 28:

Rodrigo could feel the car beneath him dancing on the edge of grip. He was in P2 now. The rush of adrenaline after overtaking so many cars was still fresh, but the next part of the race would be a different challenge. The leader, sitting comfortably ahead, was on fresh tires after an early pit stop, and Rodrigo knew the fight for victory would come down to strategy as much as speed.

"Rodrigo, you're doing great," Gaetan's voice cut through the hum of the engine. "You're in P2, leader's about five seconds ahead. We're going to switch to Plan B, so keep conserving the tires. We want to extend this stint as long as possible."

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