Page 42 of Crash Course Omega
Each completed action will flash a light, which will go back to the receiver that I usually hold. Once I click the button, the driver has the okay, and they speed off.
It’s a dance that happens so quickly it’s over in the blink of an eye. And the whole team works hard to make sure that we get everything in perfect tandem. Not a single microsecond can be wasted.
Our best time ever is 1.82 seconds, but that isn’t fast enough to beat the Blue Ox’s, who’d made a change of exactly 1.80.
If we can beat that one day, then we’ll become the best pit team there is.
“Harmony’s coming into box, change her to mediums.” Jacob's voice comes through the walkie-talkie I keep in my breast pocket. “Don’t worry about speed, just make sure she stays stable.”
“Who are you talking to?” I ask.
“Good point,” he chuckles.
“We’re boxing!” I call out, throwing up my hand to signal. “Medium tires!”
I hate having to shout. It’s one of the few parts of the job I could do without.
Each tire has a three-person team, and next to the four positions is a rack of wheels, each one wrapped up in an individual color-coded case.
For Harmony, the watch company that paid for her new car made sure their logo is stamped proudly in the middle of the cloth cases. Thankfully, the cases aren’t as pink as her car.
One moment we’re lined up in the garage, the next, twenty-five of us are spread out, ready for her.
My team is good.
In ten seconds we have the wheels prepared, the gunners are in place, kneeling down on the tarmac with their drills to unscrew and screw the tires. There's three people back and front waiting to replace any other parts if she needs them, but there hasn’t been a report.
I still swap with a side jack at the last moment. As soon as I see her pull into the pit lane three hundred meters away, I know I need to be next to her to check she’s okay.
Even just to nod to her in the two seconds we have. Even just to see that she’s enjoying herself after the way we were this morning.
If we get the pit timing right, then she can stay in front of Jaxx and get the 1.45 circuit time Jacob said she promised him.
My nerves pick up as she draws closer. All the lines are in place, it’s up to her to stop in the precise position so we can operate as quickly as possible.
Jaxx won’t come into the pits while he’s racing her, so this is our only chance to practice on a live car in the next hour or so.
“Everyone in place?” I shout out, getting a chorus of “yes’s” in return.
The car rumbles as she slows, parking at exactly the right spot, her tires under the guide lines, her car in place for the crew to jump in.
And the production begins.
Two of us grab the top of the car as the front and back jacks come in, hoisting her up.
Four loud buzzes in perfect unison signal the tires are loose, and I usually watch the dance of the old tires being swept away in an arch as the new ones glide in.
But I’m suddenly struck, frozen to the spot as I stare at her pink helmet with wide eyes.
A force hits me so hard I almost fall and unbalance the car. I gasp, trying to catch myself, the sound hidden by the drills.
I can’t breathe. If I draw in another breath, I’m going to snap. Because the second she stops under us, strawberries and cream perfume billows from the cockpit, so powerful my vision actually blurs.
A haze takes over my brain, and I can’t focus on anything but the scent of her perfume, and the thick wave of slick that follows.
It hits me too hard, and my eyes suddenly roll as it races over my tongue, through my nose, down my throat, filling my lungs with a tart sweetness that makes me moan.
A low growl rumbles from me, shocking me instantly as my alpha senses roar at me to whip her out of the car so I can take her right here.
