Page 65 of Formula Fling

“Who’s behind them?” I ask through the radio, trying to get a sense of the field.

“Ronan’s fourth,” Randall’s voice crackles through my earpiece. “Sebastian is behind him in fifth.”

Sebastian Wolff of Freedom Dynamics? Look at the Americans go.

This sport has been traditionally European, but American teams have made inroads in the last decade and they’re starting to make serious moves. It’s fascinating to see the shift but not something to ponder right now.

Half a lap left and the podium is mine.

I catch something in my wing mirrors. Stefan and Tomas are side by side, heading into the corner—too fast. Way too fast.

“Shit!” I mutter under my breath as I see the disaster unfold. Stefan clips the rear of Tomas’s car, sending them both spinning off the track and into the wall. It’s a violent crash and Tomas’s car flips while Stefan’s goes airborne for a moment before slamming into the barriers. Debris flies in all directions and I catch a glimpse of one wheel coming loose before smoke obliterates my view.

“Did you see that? What happened?” I ask frantically, trying to keep my focus as the pit wall explodes with chatter.

“Checking, Lex. Just keep your head down.” Randall’s voice is urgent but composed.

I push through the next corner, trying not to think about the wreck behind me. “Is everyone okay?” I ask, my grip tightening on the wheel as I fly down the straight.

“Standby. We’re getting updates,” Randall responds as the safety light simultaneously pulses on my wheel. “Safety car deployed, Lex. We’re finishing under caution.”

I slow, bringing the car down from its peak speed. Despite the chaos behind me, I have, at this moment, won the Bahrain Global Prix. Under a Safety Car this close to the end of the race and with such a significant crash, everyone will finish with their current standings.

It’s not the high-speed finish under the checkered flag that all drivers love, but I can’t help but feel the thrill of the win settle in. This is it. My first race of the season, and I’ve won. I see the black-and-white flag waving up ahead and as I cruise under it, the excitement is still there, even if the end was a little less dramatic than I’d imagined.

But in the back of my mind, there’s a weight. What happened to Tomas? To Stefan?

“Tomas and Stefan are out of their cars and okay,” Randall says over the radio.

“Thank God.” I breathe a sigh of relief and allow myself to welcome the thrill of victory.

My thoughts shift, not to the trophy awaiting me or the screaming fans, but to Posey. I can almost see her in the stands, her wide eyes and that brilliant smile. It was a struggle to put her out of my mind today, but I managed it. Now, I can’t wait to see her… to hold her.

Sure as fuck going to kiss her and I don’t care who sees. She was going to watch from the grandstands, but I know Maeve will bring her to me.

“Great job, Lex. Fantastic race. P1, mate!” Randall’s voice crackles in my ear, pulling me back to reality.

I smile. “I couldn’t have done it without you, the crew, the engineers.”

When I pull into the pit lane, I undo my harness, unlatch my wheel and stand on top of my car, arms pumping in victory before the main grandstand. The crowd’s cheer is deafening and I wave back.

Hopping down from the car, and as tradition dictates, I beeline to the barricades where my pit crew, technicians, strategists and engineers all await me. I leap up and into their arms, accepting backslaps and rubs on my helmet. I high-five, shake hands and accept the accolades, but truth be told, I’m nothing without these men and women.

We win as a team.

It’s then that I see Ronan and Sebastian have pulled into lanes two and three respectively, having finished in second and third places under the Safety Car. The next few minutes are more congratulations, official weigh-ins and then the interviews are next.

I wait my turn, searching the Crown Velocity crowd for Posey but can’t seem to locate her. She might be in the staging area behind the podium or maybe she’s in the paddock club. I onlyhope she’s somewhere in my line of sight when I stand on the middle tier reserved for first place so she can share what I hope is the first of many victories. Her eyes on me are the most important.

Sebastian gives the first interview with long time FI commentator, Gerhard Schneider. I stand in the wings, waiting, still looking for Posey. When it’s my turn, I’m handed a microphone and take my place.

“You ran a great race today from the pole position,” Gerhard says in his heavy German accent. “Walk me through what you had to do to defend.”

I scrape my fingers through my wet hair, do another glance around for Posey before focusing in on Gerhard. “Yeah… the car was just perfect today. Our team nailed the setup and the modifications. Couldn’t have asked for more and it just made it easy to keep pace, which kept the lead.”

“And what about that crash between Stefan Wagner and Tomas Aalto? You finished under a Safety Car.”

“I’m just glad they’re okay. I mean, it’s not as thrilling to come in that way, but a win is a win, and I’m looking forward to more.”

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