Page 60 of Dirty Air
“I am more nervous about my car.” And Fritz is restless. It’s hard to follow through the motions of a race weekend without actually driving.
Fritz pulls his hands into his lap, but the energy travels through his body and down to his right leg, which bounces up and down on the stool’s footrest.
There’s much more chatter on the radio that he usually doesn’t hear. Sitting next to Henry, it’s a surprise that the race engineer is so quiet for almost the entire qualifying session—especially compared to the strategy engineer and mechanics. Even Craig chimes in more often than Henry does.
After the mechanics wheel the kid back into the garage, Henry pulls his headset down around his neck and asks, “So, what did you think?”
“Overwhelming,” Fritz answers immediately. “Horrible, if Iam honest. How can you listen to everyone and sort through it all? Not to mention the graphs.”
Henry’s face falls. “I thought you’d like to see how we analyze information in real time. You always seem interested after the fact.”
“Sure, but—” Fritz gestures to the entire computer panel. “I cannot believe I thought you talked a lot. This is so much I could not keep up.”
“You think I talk a lot?” Of course that’s the part he focuses on.
“You are the only voice I hear for the whole race. Compared to me, yes. You talk a lot.”
Henry huffs. “You want a lot of information that I can't give to you without speaking. Maybe you talk too little.”
“I am too busy racing to chit chat. Besides, it sounds like you have enough going on.”
He doesn’t care about William’s Q2 laps, so Fritz picks up his crutches and hobbles across pit lane to check onhis carthe kid.
“How did it go?” Fritz knows how it went. P19 isn’t great, even for a new driver.
“You won a race? In that car?!” The kid points to it, as if anyone could be confused about which car he’s referring to. “That car right there?”
“Well, Theseus’s ship.”
“What?”
“I crashed the race winning car last week. You have a car with all new parts—we are just calling this my car.”
The kid will inherit his ten-place grid penalty to prove it, too, since they had to replace so much.
“Unbelievable.”
It’s a little silly that a Form 2 driver thinks Fritz's car isn’t up to his standards, but Fritz catches himself on the broadcasting screen. He makes sure to smile a little, to show any team principalsthat may be watching that he is a good sport, even to ungrateful children.
Sunday is excruciating. Fritz’s stupid body has so much race day adrenaline with no means to release it.
He avoids most of the reporters by venturing out to fan sections and taking pictures and signing things. Unfortunately, his mobility issues make him an easy target for mobs, and Priya ends up dragging him back to the paddock anyways.
Since Fritz is desperate for something to do, it’s early Christmas for the social media team.
Madison and Arvid follow Fritz through the garage as he hobbles around and explains what everyone’s job is. He rates their penis drawing abilities as well, but those parts will probably be cut out of the video.
Fritz tries various flavors of different sponsors, though his feedback might be too honest to post. They ask him a lot of ‘this or that’ questions that he might’ve ruined by saying “there are positives and negatives to both” too often. They dress him up in various holiday outfits, though some of the holidays have already passed and the rest are months away.
When it’s finally time for the pre-race meeting, Fritz is all too grateful. He hastily swings himself into the meeting room before anyone else arrives.
Fritz watches the race with Henry again. Even with the amount of things he’s done for social media, he’s still shaking with pre-race energy.
“Did you have a red boar?” Henry asks, eyeing Fritz’s limbs.
“I cannot convince my body that we are not racing today.”
“If you don’t sit still, I have half a mind to tie you up.”
