The
rainy weather that had passed earlier in the race, and had slowed the cars down
for most of the second half. Cars passing by left a cloud of steam in their
trails, and as they rounded corners, the drivers feathered their throttles to
avoid spinning out on the unforgivably tight turn and hitting the race-ending
wall that lined the outside of the bend. This was the Gara di Resistenza.
Alex
Milton found himself 5 places from the top on the last 2 laps. He’d fought hard
for the lead in most of the race, but after a ruptured tire 20 laps back,
getting a new one fitted following damage repairs had sent him nearly to the
back of the pack. He’d spent the last 20 laps regaining his ground, and as he
rounded the final corner onto the main straight coming into the final two laps,
he knew that time was not his friend, and that between him and victory were 4
of the best drivers in the league; one of which he’d been rivals with since
childhood.
His
Crew Chief and coach, Jason McNulty, had been guiding him throughout the race.
Their chemistry had been solid even after the tire problems they’d experienced.
They knew the challenge they’d be facing coming out of the pit. The stakes were
high, and as he saw Alex come down the straight, the roaring engine of the
Ferrari reminded him that being in 5th place 2 laps from the end was
what got them to this point in the first place. Jason came over Alex’s radio as
he crossed the start/finish line.
“That’s
a 2:45-6 Alex, a tenth slower than your last. What’s going on?
“The
road is still wet, and everyone is starting to play dirty.” Alex replied. “What
are your ideas for getting past the 4 people ahead of me in this next lap?”
The
cars roared toward the first corner, a medium right curve, at over 150 miles
per hour. With little time to think, Milton and McNulty remembered the way
they’d done this before; though they knew that the come from behind win didn’t come
without a price.
The accident happened 10 years ago at the same
track, on lap 98 just 3 turns from the main straight. The car Milton had been
driving lost grip in its rear tires, sending his car into a sideways tail spin
toward the edge of the divider wall that separated the pit lane from the final turn.
As he slid toward the tires at over 100 miles an hour, the drivers’ door lined
up with the end of the barrier. He’d sustained back and head injuries that had
kept him out of the competition for the entire following season. He was only 21
at the time, and after the accident, he’d faced the possibility of not
regaining the function of his legs. Since then, Milton always had a fear of
this track; a fear that would cost him this race if he let it best him. As he
returned to the track throughout the following seasons, his lap times got
slower, and windows of opportunity slipped away. Now though, he had a new
sponsor, and with a newer, lighter, and faster car than he’d ever driven, Alex
set to work preparing his next move.
“Well at this rate you’ll have to make up time
at more than a tenth of a second at a time. Jeremy posted a 2:45-1 just now.
You know what I’m thinking?
“Nevada
Gran Prix?” Alex said with a competitive smirk.
“Nevada
Gran Prix baby,” replied Jason in an excited tone. “Let’s get to work. We have
a lot of ground to cover and it’s going to be everything but easy.”
The
sound of crunching metal forced Milton’s Ferrari into a screeching slide just
before he shifted down for the first corner, forcing him to take action and
correct; an event that forced a temporary rush of adrenaline through his body.
“You’re
telling me,” he exclaimed. His tone was shaken, but still focused. “Bremen just
tapped my rear fender, I think he wants me to move over for him; but that won’t
be happening.”
As
the pack of cars rounded the first corner, Alex bravely asserted a late braking
technique that Jason taught him years back. As he concentrated, the sounds of
the environment around him faded into muffled distortion, to where he retreated
into a state of concentration as he performed the technique.
Time seemed to slow down as Alex’s
concentration lazer-focused on winning the battle at hand. In his mind, Alex
analyzed the situation he was in and prepared to make his move.
“Target
one: Paul Jessen: normal style is close and tight in the bends. This is a newer
car, so he’s probably not used to it. Longer pedal gap between acceleration and
braking. This is a reaction game. Brake just before the apex. Get on the gas
sooner on the outside corner, and I’ll have him.”
The
sounds of the race became louder and fiercer as Alex got up to Jessen’s outside
rear fender, and prepared to pounce. As they approached the apex, Milton made
his move. He shifted down just before Jessen, but because he knew the Ferrari’s
limits of grip, he hit the brakes later. Paul did just as Milton predicted, and
took the inside corner; and because Milton had already carried more speed into
the outside corner of the bend, they came out of the bend neck and neck. A more
confident foot from Alex put him on the gas just before Jessen, and no sooner,
he had taken 4th place.
“Jessen
is down,” Alex said with a satisfied tone. “Looks like we got James Haford next.”
“How’s the wet tarmac treating you?” Asked
Jason.
“Nope,
she’s holding nicely!” he replied as he prepared to confront James.
“Good, now you know Haford’s style, and the
only thing I know is that he’s been coming into the pits and they’ve been
checking the right front suspension for most of the second half of the race.
He’s probably going to be making the most out of the right hander before
slowing down for the left curve. I suggest you keep a tail on him until then,
and strike as soon as you see him take his foot off the throttle.”
Just
then, a wave of confidence overcame Alex.
“I
bet I can take him before then!”
Thinking
that this would be a reckless move, Jason immediately confronted him.
“I
wouldn’t try it, that sand trap is the end of your race if you lose it, and we
both know Haford can be scrappy if you poke him with a stick.”
“I’m
not worried.” Alex said as he sped up to the rear bumper of Haford’s GT3.
The
purple Porsche ahead driven by James Haford had been behind Alex for most of
the race, and they’d both been sporting battle scars from an intense 4 lap duel
for 5th earlier on. Milton had won the duel and took the lead until
his tire problems arose. James continued on to hold 4th for a
majority of the second half, and as the next 2 bends approached, Alex knew that
if there was any chance for retribution, it was now.
Again,
Alex analyzed and prepared his next move.
“James
Haford: more conserved driving style, but a biter when he’s under pressure. He
know’s im behind him, let’s pass –“ before he finished his thought, James
suddenly moved toward the middle of the track in an effort to block Alex from
passing, forcing him hard on the brakes, and a drop of sweat to leap from his
brow. Alex let out a resentful sigh,
knowing that Jason would have said “I told you so” had he seen the maneuver.
Alex regained his confidence and concentrated on his next move.
“Haford’s
suspension problems will slow him down just enough on this left curve for me to
make it past. He’ll be taking the outside corner. Brake hard, dive in and floor
it out. Easy.”
As
they approached the medium left curve, James Shifted down as Jason had
predicted, and he was slowing in caution of the right front suspension problems
he’d been encountering. Alex kept his foot down, and dove in beside Haford on
the outside corner and entered neck and neck. Alex put his faith in the
ferocious grip of the Ferrari and dove to the inside corner, a cloud of wet steam
enveloping the track behind. He shifted down another gear and as he floored it,
torque slide at the exit of the corner alarmed him only slightly. Not too much
sooner, Jason McNulty came over his radio.
“So how was Haford?” he asked. Alex replied in
a crimped tone.
“Yeah yeah, you were right, this time. But it
looks like Matt Wietner is next, and the chicane is coming up. I think I know
what to do here.”
“He’s
lighter on fuel than you, so you might have to push him a little to get him out
of the way.
Alex
belted down the rear straight in third place, foot hard down, and gaining speed
rapidly. The V8 produced a beautifully deafening roar as it tore past the checkpoint
mark and caught him up to the nose of Matt Weitner’s McClaren. He began to work
out the situation.
“His
4 wheel drive is keeping me in the weeds coming in. He’s lighter on fuel so
that will allow him to brake at the exact same time as I do. Strategy: Keep
foot down until 25 meters. Brake hard in and shift down to second. He’ll be in
third, but second gear might allow me to get away with less damage coming out.
I know he won’t just give me the outside.”
As
the apex came into sight, Alex darted to the outside corner, and braced himself
for impact. He would be aiming for the outside corner coming out of the
chicane, but he knew that the only way that would happen, would be at a cost.
He heard Matt shift down; the braking contest had begun. As they hooked left,
they shifted down again; Weitner into third, and Alex down into second. As they
hooked right, Alex mashed the gas pedal and shifted back up, and inevitably,
fighting for the position, Matt followed suit, and soon found himself
understeering wide, straight at Alex’s right side.
Just
then, a violent jolt and the sound of screeching rubber sent the Ferrari’s two
left wheels into the sand just off the exit corner of the chicane, and the
sound of pummeling rocks and dirt combined with the insatiable tire squeal from
the struggling racer nearly sent both of them into a spin. Soon thereafter,
Alex found the grip he needed, and as the track straightened, he shifted up,
and used the torque from his Ferrari to squeeze ahead of Weitner.
“That
wasn’t as bad as I thought, but my car took a bit of a hit. I’m alive though.”
Alex said to Jason.
“That’s
good to hear Alex.” He replied. “Next and last, we have our favorite person.”
“
Davis.”
Jason:
Jeremy, fuckin’, Davis. At that last checkpoint before the chicane was only two
tenths ahead, but now there’s almost a full second, and you’re gaining on him
fast. You’ve got 4 corners to decide this one.
“This
is all too familiar. Davis vs Milton, just like Nevada.” Alex thought to
himself as he caught up to Weitner.
Alex
assessed the final leg of the race. He knew that if he wanted to catch Jeremy Davis,
let alone pass him, he had to beat him out of the last corner onto the main
straight. Davis had the best sponsor at the race, and the fastest car. He’d
been Alex’s main rival ever since they could drive go karts, and the perils of
this race meant that a pole positon was very much at stake. Alex closed in on
Jeremy coming into the next corner, and despite the understanding Alex had
developed of Davis’s driving style over the years, he had not been able to read
his moves clearly today. He’d kept everyone on their toes.
“He’s been getting a little complacent with
being in the lead for so long.” James suggested. “Maybe you can play him into
the final corner and take it on the inside edge; that’s really all I can say at
this point.”
“I
know how to handle it,” Alex replied. “It’s not like this thing hasn’t taken a
few hits already.” He said, referring to the damaged 458 he was driving.
He
dove to the inside corner coming into the first of the 4 turns left in this lap.
He shifted into second, forcing the engine to over-rev and shoot a flare of
blue flame out of the exhaust pipes, producing a noise similar to that of a
rifle’s discharge. As the corner approached, Jeremy Davis suddenly took a dive
inside as he shifted down. Upon swiping in to over-take Alex for the lead as
they clipped the apex, the rear bumper of Jeremy’s car met with the front of
Alex’s car with a violent crunch of metal and plastic, producing debris and the
sound of squealing tires as the drivers attempted to re-gain control of their
cars.
The
next three turns seemed to take their toll on the drivers and their cars, as
Alex and Jeremy vigorously fought to take the lead on the final lap. This race
meant everything to Alex, and he reminded himself of the humiliation of defeat
he’d be left with if he backed down. With each corner came more fierce
competition, and with that, each car sustained yet more damage as he and Davis
bumped their way through the bends onto the main straight and onto the final
lap.
This
was it. This was Alex’s time to move, and there wasn’t a second to waste.
Coming into the final lap, Alex and
Jeremy tore down the main straight at blistering speeds, their competition a
ferocious demonstration of aggressiveness, speed, and agility. Their engines
filled the air around them with a thunderous roar, exciting the massive
audience that observed the two cars as they hurdled and scraped against one
another as they went across the finish line. Jeremy was not going down easy,
and they both knew that this lap wouldn't be a clean one. Victory was one lap
away, and both of them could taste it.
Alex felt a violent jolt as Jeremy
shoved his car into his coming off of the straight, producing the unmistakable
sound of scraping metal as each car sustained more and more battle wounds.
Jeremy was playing dirty, and Alex,
ready to respond, prepared to nudge Jeremy until he heard an alarming rattling
sound from one of his wheel wells.
“Something is loose after that one”
Alex said to Jason
“Yeah I saw that from the pit, can
you tell me what happened?” replied Jason.
After investigating, Alex discovered
that a hub bearing had broken loose, which meant that at any moment, the wheel could
separate itself from the rest of the car, resulting in a horrific wreck if he
took a turn to quickly.
Jeremy, keen on his braking ability,
continued to accelerate into the right hand bend as Alex, progressed toward the
bend less aggressively than he'd planned, wary of his weak tire. If he was
going to win, he had to be patient, smart, and unrelenting in his pursuit of
victory. Alex wisely let Jeremy win the battle off the main straight. After, he
set to work.
"My wheel is loose again",
Alex said nervously to James over the radio, "I'm not sure how much longer
she's gonna hold"
This moment reminded Alex of the
tire problems that he’d experienced earlier in the race. He felt the wind start
to leave his sails as his confidence levels dropped. Jason then came over the
radio.
"Just trust yourself and your
car", Mcnulty replied defiantly. "You've come this far, Alex. Don't
give up now"
He was right. If he wanted to win,
he had to give it his all on this last lap; even if his car did wreck.
As they came out of the first bend,
a menacing look overcame Alex's face. His stomach tingled with a combination of
excitement, fear, and determination, and as the loose wheel squeaked and hissed
with every right turn, he shifted down And mashed his foot to the floor; the
Ferrari's engine letting out a loud grunt as he shifted gears.
The next turn approached; a sharp
left hander. Inches separated the back bumper of Jeremy's Porsche from the
scarred front bumper of Alex's Ferrari. The rest of the race followed suit a
couple seconds behind, but none of the other 28 drivers mattered, as everyone's
attention was glued to the battle taking place at the front of the pack.
Every eye within the crowd
watched with lip biting fear as Alex hoisted the Ferrari into the corner,
taking Jeremy on the outside. The wall on the outer corner of the turn came
within inches of Alex's side as Jeremy fought relentlessly to shut the door on
him. Both drivers shifted down as they exited the bend; Alex's rear driver side
wheel nipping the dirt as Jeremy continued to push him to the outside. The rain
had stopped, leaving the track covered in a slippery coat of water, making the task
of gaining grip in most corners questionable at best for both drivers.
They left a cloud of steam in their
wake as they belted down the nest part of the track, a series of high speed
chicane like twists that required just enough concentration to allow for full
speed acceleration, but that were curved enough to still test the grip of the
drivers as they raced down the stretch of road.
Alex and Jeremy continued to fight
their way down the track, still bumping and scraping as they came into the
sharp right hander neck and neck. As Alex sped toward the entry of the turn, he
put his foot to the floor and ignored the wall that awaited him if the damaged
tire were to fail. Both drivers raced into the corner much faster than they had
done in previous laps, tires screeching as their engines over revved from
sudden downshifts in their attempt to slow down in time to make it out of the
bend. As Alex turned into the right hander, he felt his rear end lose grip, and
before he knew it, his car was in a sideways slide.
Adrenaline kicked in, and he grabbed the
steering wheel and combated the over steer as he jabbed left trying to regain
control and maintain his lead over Jeremy as they approached the exit. The wall
was approaching fast, but Alex refused to brace. Instead he let off the
throttle and shifted down another gear, forcing the tires to find their
grip.
Alex put his foot down and kept his
car straight and true as they exited the corner. He took the lead and pushed in
just in front of a displeased Jeremy. He had to stay relentless, even in the
face of inevitable danger. The drone coming from the damaged tire was
considerably louder than it had been at the start of the lap, and the bearing
that held the wheel onto the car was now just hanging by a thread. Both he and
Jason knew that t wouldn't hold much longer, and there was still half a lap to
cover. This didn't faze Alex, however, as he continued on with the same relentless
determination.
“I will not lose this,” Alex said to
himself. “I can’t lose it. Not now.”
The two rivals continued to fight
relentlessly through the bends as they fought for the lead. Mcnulty checked in
with Alex as the race continued.
"How's it going out there? He
asked.
"Nothing I can't handle,"
Alex replied as he quickly traced his gaze down to the wheel well below his
feet. "It'll be a miracle if this holds till the end,” he said to himself.
As they began the last half of the
race, Alex reminded himself of why he was here. His traumatic experience had
brought him down before, and now, his car threatened to deliver the same fate.
He’d been fearless this entire race, despite the issues he’d been having.
Jeremy had been equally as relentless, as he knew that if he didn’t win, his
contract would be on the line. Both drivers had much at stake personally, and
for that reason, they fought tenaciously for the lead.
The next bend approached; a medium
left curve. Alex breathed a little as he knew that there wouldn’t be much
strain on the damaged wheel. He sped toward the bend with Jeremy following
suit, mirroring Alex’s every move while riding his rear bumper. He was waiting
for an opportunity; an opportunity that Alex would not surrender. As he slowed
and downshifted, Alex dove to the inside, and to his surprise, he felt that his
brakes weren’t working as effectively; however, it wasn’t mechanical. Jeremy
grinded his front end onto the back of the Ferrari, and was push-drafting as
they went in. A concentrated maneuver turned into a wet steam cloud of
squealing tires as Alex’s Ferrari began to power slide into the bend. He
quickly reacted by countersteering; but overcorrection lead Alex into a
dangerous tank-slapper. His concentration was broken, and as he felt the
Ferrari lose grip and go into a spin, he thought that this was it. The race was
over; but just as his car went for the grass, Alex remembered a technique that
Jason had taught him, and he acted quickly.
A flick of counter steer, and a
feathered throttle enabled Alex to regain control of his car as he exited the
corner, forcing him to kick up a substantial amount of dirt as his two left
wheels left the tarmac. He was in control, but not without giving up the lead.
Jeremy had begun to play dirty; a
tactic he’d used ever since they were young rivals on karts.
“He’s being a bastard!” Alex
exclaimed over the radio. “Damn near spun me out!”
“Did you expect him to play nice?”
Jason replied
“No, I didn’t, but I also didn’t
think he’d try to push me off the track.” Alex replied. “He’ll pay for that
one.”
As they crossed the half-way
checkpoint, Jeremy had gained two seconds on Alex. They continued to fight and
trade paint as they completed the next series of bends. Alex was being
cautious, however, as he nursed his car through, catching up to Jeremy, while
nursing the war-wounded Ferrari, his sore wheel aching through each bend with a
nasty hiss.
He had to catch him before they went
into the final turn, which was coming up fast. Just then, a loud pinging noise
came from the front of the Ferrari. The hub bearing was failing, and with two
turns to go, Alex became nervous. He knew he couldn’t lose, but he also knew
that any harder driving meant that the Ferrari wouldn’t see the end of the
race. But he remembered that this was the Gara di Resistenza, the race he’d
wanted to win ever since he’d come up short many years before. He put his foot
to the floor, and replaced his fear with careful recklessness as he caught up
to Jeremy. His concentration levels rose, and he drowned out every distraction
he could think of. The next two bends would become a test of his determination,
fortitude, and courage.
Jason’s voice came into Alex’s
earphone. “Alex, you have to be careful, that wheel is done – Alex…..ALEX!!!”
There was no response. Alex had his
eyes on the back of Jeremy’s Porsche. The next-to-last bend was a blind hill.
He floored it and pursued the Apex with every ounce of vigor the Ferrari could
deliver.
As they came up the hill, Alex
fast-approached the Porsche. He knew that Jeremy wasn’t good a blind hills. He
knew that he would slow down sooner than him. He prepared to make his move to
the inside, knowing that Jeremy would be there to meet him. With a look of
determination, Alex took to the inside, and as he did, Jeremy dove in in front
of him; but he underestimated the distance as Alex clipped Jeremy’s back
bumper, initiating sporadic tire squeal as Jeremy was forced to correct the
spin.
As they exited the bend neck and
neck, Alex knew that the next left hander could make or break the Ferrari –
literally.
“I have to give it everything on
this short straight” Alex said to himself.
This was it. This was victory; and
as Alex inched in front of Jeremy, he floored it, and the Ferrari took off. The
last corner approached, and Jeremy was right behind Alex. Every move had to be
perfect. Every turn had to be calculated. Every thought that raced through
Alex’s mind was filled with the fear of his car failing, and of the sweet valor
of victory that lay a quarter of a mile ahead.
He was relentless, determined, and
as he went into the last turn, he gave the Ferrari a push with the gas pedal,
and threw the clutch into second. This, however, proved to be a shock to the
race car. As he went into second, another loud grinding noise echoed in the
cabin. The clutch was jammed in 3rd. .
All hope went grim, and the wind had
seemingly been taken out of his sails. The main straight approached, and with a
jammed clutch and no way to shift up, Alex’s only chance was to fight off
Jeremy on the main straight, and hope that the Ferrari could hold enough speed
to catch the finish line before him; but Alex didn’t realize that Jeremy had
issues of his own to contend with.
As they exited the turn, the two
relentless racers were neck and neck. The main straight was in their sights,
but as they went wide, Jeremy took to the outside to try and carry enough speed
to overtake Alex.
He was going too fast. The Porsche
hit the outside Apex, and before he could get it back onto the track, the right
wheels of Jeremy’s car hit the wet grass, and as he lost speed and tried to
compensate, a flick of the wheel sent the gripless race car into a spin.
Jason, along with Alex’s family and
friends saw the incident on the monitors in the pit, and as Jeremy spun, they
let out a cry of joy. The race was Alex’s to win as he tore down the main
straight toward the finish line. The crowd was cheering wildly, and as he
crossed the line, the black and white checkered flag waved him into the
winner’s circle.
“Holy shit you did it!” Exclaimed
Jason over the radio, the shouts of joy and encouragement from family and
friends filling the background.
Alex pumped his fist out of his
window as he slowed the battle-scarred Ferrari down and came into the pit. He
was speechless. The Gara di Resitenza, a 10 hour test of courage, durability,
endurance, and concentration, had ended, and Alex Milton held the gold as he
drove to the winner’s circle, still with a clutch jammed in second, and with a
still hissing tire.
The rainy mist that had filled the
air for most of the race had dissipated, and as the race official announced
Alex’s victory, he handed him the trophy. As he held it up on a decorated
podium in front of a cheering audience snapping away at their cameras and
putting microphones up to his face, the sun peaked out from behind the gray
clouds, bathing the still soaked track in a warm glow, and reflecting dew off
of the grass and track. Alex walked back to the pits where he was greeted by his
family. His first win since his last injury on the same track had put an air of
sentimental joy into the family that greeted him with tears of relief.
“I knew you could do it” said Jason
as he embraced Alex. “Fear is all in your head, and today, you proved that it
has no place there.”
“I don’t know what to say, really.
I’m just glad to be alive!” Alex replied, still in awe of the race he’d fought
so hard to win.
The race was over; the crowds were
dispersing, and as he looked back at the still wet track, the setting sun over
the horizon of the main straight still echoed with one of the best and most
memorable finishes in Alex’s career.
He had won.
