#junior f1 racer

[caesium-55]

—seven days [ epilogue ]

pairing: max verstappen x manager! reader

summary: as the third time world champion, max verstappen's manager, you function on the belief that whatever max verstappen wanted, max verstappen shall get. but this time, after four years of working as his manager, you can't give him what he wants anymore and that was to stay.

warnings: mentions of death and suicide.

author's note: here's the epilogue and the end end of the seven days series. thank you everyone for showing love to this fic! i was honestly so overwhelmed by the sheer amount of all of you. also, i apologize for all the broken hearts i caused after posting chapters 4-7. stay safe yall! i'll rest my fingers for real now. my doctor wasn't very happy with me. NOT BETA READ. NOT EDITED.

tags: @whatamidoingwithmylife-ramdom @eugene-emt-roe @bellezaycafe @barnestatic @theseerbetweenus @wcnorris @notyouraveragemochii @lpab @vildetry06 @a-beaverhausen @formula1mount @loloekie @alucardsdaddyissues @juky-ps @cassianswh0reeee @devotedlycrookeddonut @amberpanda99 @supermaxv1 @evie-119 @spideylovin @harianaswhore @formulaal @landorris @onecojg @leclercdream @vicurious28 @c-losur3 @spookystitchery @0710khj @strollnstroll @justab-eautifulmess @ssrcsm @seasonswinter @kravitzwhore @mycure156 i hope i didn't forget anyone

masterlist.

Julio [Name] was not an ambitious person. He didn't have dreams or concrete plans in life. But in 1985, his first dream was born. He wanted to be an F1 racer after reading about the Portuguese Grand Prix in a local newspaper where he saw a Brazilian racer even younger than him participate in it and winning it. Ayrton Senna was the racer’s name, twenty-five years old. At that time, Julio [Name] was the same age.

He immediately searched for the nearest karting track. He brought his then girlfriend, Sally Kingston, a dental student in USC, to the kart zone for their date. It was safe to say that driving was not exactly his forte. He crashed his rental kart and had to pay the damages. He was afraid that he made himself a loser in front of the Sally Kingston, the richest, prettiest, and nicest girl from L.A., and that she wouldn't wanna go out with a bumpkin like him anymore, but she had only laughed at him—her eyes turning into little crescents, showing too much teeth and gums—and from then and there, he knows he’s going to marry Sally Kingston one day. He might not have become a F1 driver, but he ended up marrying the girl of his dreams.

Him and Sally welcomed a son in 1991. They named him Damiano and he turned out to be a carbon copy of his beloved wife, not that Julio was complaining. When Damiano turned five, Julio brought him in the kart zone and let him try driving the kart. Damiano adored it so Julio signed him up for racing school. Three weekends later, Damiano got sick of driving around in circles so he stopped. Sally gave birth to a daughter in the same year—1996.

Five years later, he brings [Name], his mija, into the kart zone. He expected that you’ll be like Damiano, too, getting sick of the thing after three weekends or so. You didn't. You loved karting and going fast, almost dangerously so. You lasted five weekends so Julio signed you up for the kart zone’s junior racing school and you were their first female member. You won your first race when you were six, only seven months after you officially joined.

“She was born to race,” the team head told Julio. Julio then decided that he’d do whatever it takes so you could become a F1 driver.

Like his initial dream, his dream for you couldn't be brought to reality. When you were nine, you had to stop karting for financial reasons. Damiano was in high school, Rafael had leukemia, and Dominic had just been born. When Julio told you the news, you were sad but you understood why the decision was made so you never complained. You learned how to play billiards instead and your Abuelo was the one who taught you. It's cheaper than karting so Sally and Julio gave you their full support.

Julio [Name] was pleasantly surprised when you told him that you got accepted in USC’s engineering department years later. He half expected that you’d be like Damiano, who took an interest in dentistry, and was attending dental school. He was going to be a dentist like his mother. He was a perfect copy of Sally.

“If I can't be a racer, I’ll become a mechanical engineer,” you declared, head held high. Julio couldn't be anymore proud. You were living his dream.

If you asked Julio [Name] if he had lived a happy life despite not reaching his dreams, he would say yes without hesitation. He married the love of his life, Sally Kingston, now Sally [Last Name]. His first son, Damiano, had topped dental school and followed in his mother’s footsteps. His daughter, [Name], graduated with flying colors, a mechanical engineering degree under her belt and entered the motorsports industry, the first in the family to do so. (You even got him Fernando Alonso’s autograph! That's his second favorite driver!) Not only that, she volunteered at the LAFD during her college years and competed in a billiards tournament in Vegas, Australia, and the UK. You had the potential to be an international-level pool player but you didn't pursue the sport because you wanted to be an engineer. Rafael didn't let leukemia beat him and now, he’s finishing up his last year in CalTech, pursuing mechanical engineering like his older sister. A research team in Sweden had been eyeing him for a while now. Dominic, on the other hand, is steadily building a career for himself in volleyball. He was offered a sports scholarship in Harvard so, despite the fact that he’s going even farther than his siblings with no relatives near him like in L.A., Julio pushed him to pursue what he wanted. His children are his pride and joy. He spent every single day bragging about his children to his colleagues. The others had expressed their envy to him. Did Julio save a country in his last life to have such great children?

Furthermore, he’d been promoted to be the captain of Station 131 in Austin. Julio may not have driven an F1 car but he wouldn't even trade this family over anything in this world, not even the life of luxury and thrill of a Formula One Driver.

(What Julio didn't know was that Damiano had serious depression in dental school that he carried even after graduating, that you weren't accepted as an engineer in F1 and was stuck in a managerial position for the last five years, that Sweden found a better researcher than Rafael so he’s stuck suffering physically and mentally in a degree with his future unclear and cloudy, and Dominic was slowly losing passion in volleyball but it's the only thing putting him through college right now so he grits his teeth and put himself on court. No one told Julio. Julio got enough of his dreams broken already.)

Truthfully, despite working for Red Bull for half a decade, you never liked its taste. You were always the Monster Energy type of girl. It's the one drink that kept you functioning through all the all-nighters you pulled in engineering school. However, you kind of lost the palate for Monster Energy so now, here you are, standing outside a gas station mini mart in the middle of the dusty highway that leads to El Paso. You hold the chilled can of Red Bull against the side of your neck, satisfied with the feeling of something cool pressing against your skin. The temperature in Texas is going absolutely crazy this time of the year. In your other hand, two cigarette sticks balance in between your fingers. You crave the deadly nicotine. Desperately. But you're not stupid enough to smoke at a gas station because of your cravings.

Your phone vibrates and you pull it out of your pocket to see who messaged you. You snicker when you view the barrage of pictures from the Austin Grand Prix that Leo sent. A stolen shot of Logan, meme faces of Alex, the air show, a selfie with THE Fernando Alonso, and a Tiktok video with the other Williams mechanics.

You watched the race from the stands today and truthfully, you prefer watching the race in the garage than on the stands. It's unbelievably boring to be there. People pay thousands of dollars to sit under the excruciating heat of the sun and catch a glimpse of very fast cars for a nanosecond. You wouldn't even catch sight of if you blink. Nevertheless, you're happy that Leo is having the time of his life. You wish you share the same shoes.

leo: so so sad that u have to go

you: id be flattered if u actually mean it

leo: *rolling eyes emoji*

leo: i hope you choke on your beer

you: i hope you choke on the celebratory champagne

you: and i dont drink and drive

leo: good to know ur not stupid

leo: on a serious note make sure to drive to el paso safely

you: aight aight

leo: u know i have something to confess

you: if it's something stupid, don't bother

leo: ur stupid

you: fuck u

leo: shut up

leo: just wanna say i didn't break up with u bc u gave max too much attention

leo: i know that's what i said but i only said that bc i knew that u needed max to achieve ur dreams

leo: and idk i just thought max wouldn't give it to u not when im still dating u

you: that's stupid

you: max isn't like that

leo: hes in love with u

Your heart stutters. You ignore it.

you: liar

leo: i could tell u lil shit

leo: idk he looked like someone who’d hold a grudge

you: he does hold grudges

leo: and i cant allow myself to stand in between you and the one person who can give you your dream you know?

leo: i loved you enough to let you go to him

You choke on your saliva. You don't love Leo romantically anymore and you are sure that the feelings are mutual but his abrupt confession is enough to bring back the pain of loving him and letting him go all over again.

leo: u sure u won’t stay to see him?

leo: he’s the one who wants to see you the most

you: his ig messages makes me think otherwise

You're a fucking coward. A pussy.

leo: you didn't see the man [name]

leo: you don't know how empty he looks now

A shadow of guilt darkens your eyes. You quickly shove your phone into the pocket of your jacket. You open the Red Bull and take a large swig, almost draining the entire can. You exhale loudly after drinking, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. You stare at the vast expanse of the dry earth before you, starting to understand the appeal of aimless road trips in the southern roads.

The world seems to be turning in slow motion now.

Ever since your father died, time feels like it was moving too fast. You arrived at the hospital half an hour after Julio was officially pronounced dead. At that time, you felt like the world was ending. Your knees gave out in the middle of the hospital hallway. Your mother’s wail echoed in your ears. Damiano and Dominic were trying to console her, both of whom were crying terribly. You stare at them, face empty despite the hurricane brewing within you. Rafael wrapped his arms around you and you held onto him as he cried uncontrollably.

Your mother possessed a weak heart. She’d grown weaker and weaker day by day after your father passed. Your father’s station held a ceremony for him to pay tribute to their fallen captain. You were the one who carried his helmet all throughout the ceremony because the entire station knew you were his most prized child. When you flipped the helmet, there was a photo taped on it. A photo of the entire family at your graduation ceremony in USC. You maintained that tired and empty stare during the entire procession. In the middle of the ceremony, your mother collapsed.

Your father’s death was the first domino to be tipped. Your mother’s collapse during the funeral was the second. From then on, everything turned to shit. Your mother had always been frail and prone to sickness so it didn’t surprise you when she had grown so weak in a matter of days. She couldn't sleep. She didn't want to eat. She lost her will to do anything else. You took her to the hospital after a week because you were afraid she was beginning to become malnourished. Damiano suggested moving your mother to El Paso, to your Abuelo and Abuela’s farm, so your mother could recuperate there, and you agreed. The entire family moved to El Paso quickly, leaving the house in Vista Del Pueblo empty and celebrated the New Year there.

You opened your phone for the first time since you landed in ATX on the 30th and a barrage of messages had been sent to you. From Daniel, Logan, Leo, Kendall, Julia. You freeze when you see Max’s name. Your finger hovers above it, hesitating. Your mind trailed back to the five years you spent in Red Bull, to all the memories with Max in it, to what happened inside his penthouse in Monaco, the jet, the night you spent in his sheets, the shoes and—

Fuck.

“Kelly,” you mumbled to yourself, typing her username in the search box. You began typing up a message. You're not mentally equipped to write a long message of apology. Your mental dictionary was not ready to use so you decided to half ass the entire message and hope for the best.

you: sorry about the breakup

you: i didn't know about the shoes

you: i didn't take it

you: im so sorry

you: i hope you're not too hurt

In truth, you loved Kelly for Max. You never had problems with her. At first, you were concerned about the great age gap between her and Max as she was even older than Danny but then you figured that you did not have a say because Leo was also younger than you, born in the same year as Max. Then, you saw how she was so caring to Max, so patient in dealing with his misplaced anger, so supportive. You saw how Max transformed into a better version of himself, something you are not even capable of doing, because of Penelope and Kelly. How he became the world's most massive girl dad without trying. You ignored every bitter feeling that sprouted on your chest because you saw Max was happy and his happiness always came first. And now, you’re here, apologizing to Kelly for taking Max away from her.

kelly: i think i’m the one who’s been taking him from you

kelly: take care of him for me

you: thank you for loving him

You can't imagine how hurt Kelly was. Imagine dating and preparing a man so he could be perfect for another girl.

you: but i can’t do what you're asking

you: not anymore

“Not anymore,” you whisper to yourself, as if uttering it to the wind would cement it as the truth.

Not anymore, Max. I’m sorry.

Rafael and Dominic told you that they want to drop out of college to help you out with Mama a few days after New Year’s. You quickly told them no, to finish college and that you could handle taking care of two senior citizens and your sickly mother and help out on the farm since you’re essentially jobless at the moment.

The third domino is Damiano. You were always aware he’d been clinically depressed, taking medications to help him get better. Whatever he went through in dental school, he carried it with him until he was working. You believed he was getting better. He was seeing a therapist for years now and you were checking up on him every day. Then, like Mama, he just…. became worse. Rafael found him submerged in the bathtub in his apartment, red painting his wrists. Had Rafael not been there at the right time, Damiano would have followed Papa Julio.

The fourth domino is Dominic. He ruined his hand in March. The doctor told him it was dangerous for him to continue playing volleyball competitively. It was either he learned how to set with only his non-dominant hand because his dominant hand is partially crippled or he stopped playing all together. He’d choose the second option with no hesitation as he had lost his passion for the sport but if he’s not playing for Harvard anymore, no one would be able to pay his fees until graduation. Not when Julio died, not when Sally was too sick to continue working, not when Damiano was currently unstable, not when you’re the only one who had been supporting the entire family through your entire savings account. Red Bull must have paid you a lot of money because you’ve been keeping the entire family afloat for months now.

The fifth domino is Rafael, who got his entire thesis overhauled so now, his graduation was out of the picture. It sucked. He’d always been expected to follow his older siblings’ footsteps, both of whom are academically excelling individuals and Rafael had been studying and studying and studying. So why was this happening to him? Why was this happening to his family?

The sixth domino was yet to be tipped over.

You refuse to fall.

You blink, suddenly back in reality when you hear a loud caw of a bird flying above your head. You shake your head, tossing the Red Bull in a nearby trash can and returning inside the mini mart. The amount of caffeine in a Red Bull isn’t enough. You need more. You need fucking coffee.

Gas station coffee sucks but you’re never the type who complains. El Paso is still eight hours away and you’re sure you're going to be driving your motorcycle the entire night just to reach the farm the next morning.

You walked towards the Yamaha XSR 155 parked in front of the mini-mart, a styro cup of coffee that’s as black as your soul and as bitter as your life in your hand. Hypnotizing swirls of steam rise from the cup. In each step you take, the key that is attached to your hip jingles.

It's a little past four in the afternoon but the darkness of the sky makes you think it's around six PM. You pocket your cigarettes and stand beside your motorcycle, hand on your hip while the other brings the cup of coffee to your mouth. A car suddenly arrives, coming to a screeching halt in front of you. You flinch in surprise, almost spilling your coffee in your hands. You hiss loudly, brows furrowing, a curse sitting on the tip of your tongue. You hear the sound of a car door opening and slamming shut and when you look up—

“Max.”

He’s still in his Red Bull overalls, drenched in sweat as if he ran to the gas station instead of driving. His hair is windswept, sticking out in multiple directions almost attractively so. He looks simultaneously distraught and relieved when your eyes met. The longing in his eyes. God. You unconsciously take a step back and turn around—a flight response—when he charges in your direction.

A strong pair of arms wrap around you from behind, stopping you from your tracks and causing your coffee to spill and fall down pathetically on the floor. You avoided the puddle, hands reaching behind you to guide Max away from the steaming liquid. But it’s too late. You saw the hot coffee touch his skin.

“Max!” you exclaim, eyes going wide. Your hand wraps around his forearm, pulling it but his grip on you tightens so you resort to tapping his arm in hopes that he’ll let go and you can inspect his injured hand and make a quick run for the mini mart for first-aid supplies.

“Max, let go,” you say, panicking. “Your hand—”

“Don’t leave,” his voice cracks.

“I won't go, okay? Let go and I’ll—”

“No,” the hug tightens and you suck in a breath. “You’ll leave again. I know you’ll leave again.”

“I’ll fix your hand. You can’t burn your hand—”

“I can endure it. Let me have this please,” he pleads. You pull his hand but Max remains stubborn. Resigned, you sigh. It turns out that you’re still the same, giving whatever Max wanted.

“I’m sorry for getting angry,” he begins. “I’m sorry for stopping you from going to Renault. I’m sorry for promising that I’d talk to Christian. I’m sorry that I didn't. I’m sorry that you had to break up with Leo because of me. I’m sorry that I realized that I fell in love with you while dating Kelly. I’m sorry for the shoes. I’m sorry for getting drunk. I’m sorry for being so selfish. I’m sorry for not considering you. I’m sorry for loving you. I’m so, so sorry, [Name]. For everything.”

His words come rapidly and frankly, you don't want to hear Max like this. Max rarely apologizes. You're not used to hearing him apologize.

“Max—”

“I called, [Name].”

You freeze.

“I called so many times. Not once have you answered. Not once—” a loud sob erupts from his mouth, interrupting him. “You always come when I call.”

You close your eyes, letting out a shaky breath.

“I sent you a message,” he continues. “To wait for me. I know I’m selfish but can I have five minutes please? Just….five?”

A pause.

“Okay,” you whisper. Max’s body trembles against yours and you stand still for a few minutes,

“Hey,” you say gently, suddenly reminded that you're standing in an open space and Max is still in his Red Bull overalls and he doesn't even have his usual cap on and this compromising situation you're both in was going to be bad for Max’s online reputation once the wrong pair of eyes manage to catch sight of you. You can already imagine what the headlines would be.

MAX VERSTAPPEN AND HIS FORMER MANAGER CAUGHT HUGGING IN A GASOLINE STATION AFTER AUSTIN GP.

MAX VERSTAPPEN AND FORMER RED BULL MANAGER IN A RELATIONSHIP?

FORMER RED BULL MANAGER POTENTIAL REASON FOR BREAKUP BETWEEN KELLY PIQUET AND MAX VERSTAPPEN?

MAX VERSTAPPEN CHEATED ON KELLY PIQUET WITH FORMER MANAGER?

MAX VERSTAPPEN, FULL-TIME WORLD TIME CHAMPION, PART-TIME CHEATING ASSHOLE.

God. You can already imagine the headache splitting the entire PR team’s skulls. The world already hates Max because of how good he was at his sport. You can’t allow people to shit on him more because of you.

“Max,” you try again, tapping his forearm so he can loosen his hold on you and you can turn around. “Max, baby, cooperate with me for a bit, yeah?”

You tug on his wrist and you can't help but sigh in relief when his arms loosen a little. He’s beginning to choke you a little bit. With his arms still around you, you pivot on your heels so you’re face-to-face with his broad chest.

When you look up to Max’s face, your heart shatters into a million pieces. His tears continue to flow and violent sobs wrack his entire body, robbing him of the ability to speak and barely allowing a breath to be drawn. He’s going to hyperventilate. Fucking dammit.

“Max,” how many times have you said his name in the last few minutes? “Hey, breathe with me.”

Your hand cradles his jaw and your eyes focused on his blue ones and fuck, they’re as insanely beautiful as you remembered.

“Breathe.”

You perform exaggerated inhales and exhales so Max can match your breaths, his hands settling on your shoulders. His palms feel heavy against your shoulders and his fingers dig deep into your skin.

“I’m here, Champ. I’m here,” you assure him. “I’m here now.”

You wait until he calms down a little and when he does, your right hand searches for his, intertwining your fingers together to assure him that you’re not going anywhere just yet. Your other hand comes up to hold the area below his neck and you slowly guide him back to his car. It’s a little difficult, Max obviously has no intention to let you go, but you know how to make things work.

Max sits on the driver's seat with you standing outside of the car. He's still clinging onto your hand and you use the other hand to hold the roof of the car for support. Max stopped crying now, staring blankly at you with a sad pout on his face. His tears are now dry, staining his cheeks.

“You okay now, Champ?” you ask, never failing to sound gentle. That's what Max needs now. Gentleness. God forbid you pull a Jos Verstappen.

Max shakes his hand, making you sigh deeply. Your eyes trail to the hands, the pale skin now an angry red.

“Max,” you call his attention. He looks up at you and you have to avoid his gaze because if you look at his face, your heart hurts. “I’ll get something from the mini-mart for your burn, aight?”

He shakes his head and his grip on your hand impossibly tightens. If he keeps this up, he’s going to break your bones.

“No.”

If you were the same person that you were in 2023, you would have let Max do what he wanted. What Max wanted, what Max shall get—that’s the philosophy you lived by. But things are different now. Leo told you that you’re allowing Max to take too much from you and Max needs to learn to actually listen to you.

You’ve been taught to treat even the most minor of burns as if it’s a major burn. That's what you are planning to do right now.

“Max,” you say, a little firmer now. “Gonna grab somethin’ in the mart real quick, you stay here, aight?”

“No—”

“Not askin’, Champ,” you interrupt him. “I'm not leavin’ yet, not goin’ anywhere until I make sure you’re okay. So stay here and wait.”

You swiftly remove the key attached to your belt and force it into his palm, “Here are my keys. I’m not goin’ to drive off and leave you here, aight? Do you trust me?”

You have a feeling that this anxiety of his might have stemmed from that one incident in his childhood where Jos left him at a gas station. Fucking son of a bitch that man was.

Hesitantly, Max says, “I do.”

“Good,” you ruffle his hair, dampening your palm.

You can see he does not like what you're doing now but he does not have any choice so he sits in the car, looking as pitiful as ever. You jog up to the mini-mart, immediately going to the beverage section to grab a bottle of water and passing by the hygiene shelf to snatch a handkerchief. You go to the counter and the middle aged guy manning the register obviously does not look impressed that you’re in his shop for the third time in the same hour, which is stupid because he should be glad that he has a customer. You put everything on the counter, pulling out some bills from your back pocket.

“You happen to have neosporin?” you ask.

“Do we look like a drug store?” he retorts. You roll your eyes, toss the bills to the cashier, and grab your items without even waiting for the guy to wrap them all up in a paper bag. You jog back to Max’s car.

“Excuse me,” you lean inside the car, opening the compartment to search for a burn cream you left inside there last year. Your eyes land on his keys, stiffening when you notice that Max kept every single gift you gave him. The bead keychain from 2020, the bottle opener keychain from 2021, the clay figure keychain from 2022, and the bracelet from 2023 sway slightly, staring back at you. You shake your head and resume doing your original mission. You find the burn cream and you immediately search for the expiration date. January 2025; it’s still good to use.

You straighten, take hold of Max’s wrist gently, and roll up his long sleeves up to his elbows. You open the water bottle and tug Max’s hand towards you so he won't get water on his car as you pour water on his burn. Once the bottle is nearly empty, you apply the cream on the reddened area of his skin. Then, you use the handkerchief, which you dampen using the leftover water, to dress it.

Max is silent the entire ordeal, watching you work your way meticulously and carefully around his hand. The same meticulousness one can expect from a former firefighter paramedic volunteer.

You step back to inspect your work, but Max’s hand stretches out towards you, grabbing the hem of your jacket.

“Sorry,” he says and yet you see his knuckles slowly turning white, which makes you unsure if he truly is apologetic or not. “Just…yeah, sorry. Can you stay for a while please?”

“Have to leave soon,” you say. “El Paso’s still hours away. I have to be there by morning.”

He nods, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down, “Okay.”

“Thirty minutes, Max,” you decide. “Thirty minutes.”

You pull out your phone from your pocket to check the time and see the multiple notification bars. You type the password and direct to the message app to see the flurry of messages Max sent earlier. You have not noticed them.

max: i heard you came

max: where are you

max: please

max: can you give me ten minutes

max: just

max: please

max: wait for me

max: i’m not angry anymore

max: im begging you

max: or five minutes [name] im okay with just five

max: or even less

max: i just need to see you

“Who told you I was here?” you question, brows knitting together. There are currently two names in your head. They both start with the letter L and they both work at Williams.

“Leo called me and told me you were here.”

“Of course he did,” you roll your eyes. Logan will never dare betray you like this. You made Leo promise not to tell Max where you were in El Paso and the bitch told him where you were the moment you stepped out of El Paso. He didn't break his promise technically, but it's still a very bitch move for him to pull. You're going to have a lengthy conversation with him later.

“So you’ve been in El Paso?” he asks.

You nod.

“My grandparents’ place.”

He nods.

“Sorry about Julio, by the way.”

You sigh. God, you want to cry.

It's truly unfair how God decided to take away Julio [Last Name]. Death should happen to assholes and shitty people. To people who abuse their children every day. To people who waste years of their lifespan on nicotine and alcohol. To people who kill people. Death shouldn't happen to heroes, who risk every single day of their lives to save other people. Death shouldn't happen to Julio [Last Name], a firefighter who died saving a kid in a burning building. At least, not this early. Not until you fulfilled his dream for him.

(His last words: I don't regret doing what I did. I have kids, too. I want someone to save them the same way I did that kid if they ever get stuck in a situation like this.)

“Did Leo tell you that, too?” you hope that he didn't notice that your voice slightly wobbled.

“No,” Max shakes his head. “We—Logan and I came to Vista Del Pueblo in December. Your neighbor told us that…”

He doesn't need to finish his sentence for you to know what he’s trying to say.

You nod, “So that's why there was an article that day…”

You remember Damiano showing you the news article in his phone—AN UNLIKELY FRIENDSHIP: MAX VERSTAPPEN OF RED BULL RACING AND LOGAN SARGEANT OF WILLIAMS RACING SPOTTED DRIVING AROUND AUSTIN. You shrugged it off at that time.

“How are you?”

You turn to Max, raising a brow at his question.

“How am I?” you echo, sounding a little bewildered.

You see, Max has never asked this question. You're used to “Are you okay?” but not this. Not this question. You can easily lie to an are-you-okay. You can say yes even if you’re not, and you won't give yourself away because you only uttered one word. But with how-are-you, it’s different. It's not a question that is not answerable by yes or no. You actually have to explain how you feel. That's why Papa Julio only asked, “How are you, mija?” rather than “Are you okay, mija?” Papa Julio wants to know how your day went even if you're okay or not.

Yeah. You're definitely going to cry at this rate.

“How have you been after Julio?”

“You really wanna know?”

“I wanted to be there for you at that time,” Max confesses. “When I learned that Julio was gone, I wanted to go to you. But Leo stopped me. He said I was not what you needed at that time and I agree. I was too angry at you for leaving me. I’m glad he didn't tell me where you are, despite how painful it was. I was selfish and immature that I cared about my grief and forgot to consider yours. I reflected on my actions a lot. I am not sure how different I am now from that version of me but I think I changed a bit. So yes, [Name], I want to know, because I want to know how you felt and help you in any way I can.”

You stand there, stunned at what Max has said. And perhaps it was his sincerity or the way his determined blue eyes stare into your soul that caused the sixth domino to tip. You break into tears, a raw cry escaping your mouth. You are so fucking tired of carrying everything on your shoulders.

Max is quick to engulf you in a hug and you don't hesitate to pull him into you, pressing your face against his shoulders as you let everything out. You claw his back as if you're trying to mold himself into you. Your nose turns red, snot drips out of your nose. You sob too loud and too heavily that you can hardly draw a breath. You don't cry pretty and this is the first time you allowed yourself to cry with another person bearing witness to your fragility.

When you calmed down, you found yourself sitting beside Max, shoulder to shoulder, in the backseat of his car, playing with the drawstrings of your jacket.

“Sorry.”

“Don't be.”

“Sorry, I was just so tired,” you tip your head upwards. You can feel Max’s eyes on you. “Things have been hard since Papa died.”

“Do you want to talk? I’ll listen.”

You chuckle humorlessly.

Jesus, what did Leo feed this guy?

It feels like the roles are reversed now.

“Everybody's been takin’ it pretty hard so I'm trynna to be strong for them, you know? But I’m not that strong,” you begin. “I’m just as lost as everyone else and it's hard pretendin’ like I’m not. I’m not really sure what will happen with my life now so I wander around and do car repairs for a few folks in El Paso.”

“What happened to your dream? The job?”

“Well, it's gone,” you say, making Max’s eyes widen. “Not my time yet, I suppose. Or rather, I’m never supposed to have time. I guess I’m just not meant to be an engineer.”

“No,” Max turns to you, clasping your hands in desperation. “No, no, no. You always wanted to become an engineer. You can't just—I’ll think of something. I’ll ask Christian. I’ll ask the other teams. Renault isn't in Formula One right now but I can—”

“Max,” you smile sadly. “Let it go.”

“But—”

“Do you know what my Papa’s dream was?” you interrupt. “It’s to be a Formula One racer.”

You smile, remembering all the times you’ve seen your father watch the races on the television since you were younger. He’d wake up even in the ass crack of dawn just to watch them live. He’d be so tired after a 24-hour shift at the fire station but he’d refuse to even catch a wink of sleep until the Grand Prix broadcast is done. He always received a beating from your Mama because of it.

“He saw Senna in the newspaper and decided that he wanted to be like him, too. Sadly, Papa never vibed with a steering wheel so there was no future in that industry. He's always so disappointed in himself, sayin’ he can do the most unhinge shit at work but can't even drive a car. When Damiano and I turned five, he brought us karting. I could tell he was disappointed that Damiano didn't share his love for racing and I hated seein’ him sad so I learned to love karting. He signed me up and I did my best to win. I think I was good. Good enough to make him proud of me. Papa looked so happy when I won my first trophy. He cleaned it every week.”

You smile fondly at the memory.

“Then, shit happened and I have to stop. Papa looked even more disappointed than me that I had to stop. It hurts. Disappointment from your parents, I mean, even if I know that it's somethin’ beyond my control. I figured that if I can't be a racer, I’ll work in a pit stop. That's close enough. When I told him that I got accepted into USC and how I wanted to be an engineer, it was the proudest I have ever seen him since I won my trophy. I was livin’ his dream. I applied for Red Bull and Renault because those are Papa’s favorite teams and the rest is history.”

You pause.

“He’s never got to see me become an engineer,” you choke out, wiping the stray tear that fell from your eye with the back of your hand. “It was his dream. He always had his dreams broken and I was gonna reach his dreams for him but he’s gone before I can do so. Now, I’m so lost because I realized that I was shapin’ myself to become an extension of Papa and now that he's gone, I am an extension of no one. I was reaching for dreams that I don't own. I’m so tired and I’m so lost, Max.”

Max stares at you sadly.

“I should have talked to Christian sooner. Fuck, I hate myself for not talking to Christian. Fuck, why was I so selfish?” he presses the ball of his palms against his eyes in frustration. You chuckle, shaking your head.

“That’s okay,” you say. “I’ll find my way.”

You look at the scenery outside of the window. Night has fallen. You should have left for El Paso by now.

“I need to go,” you say, heart heavy.

“So soon?”

Max is panicking again.

“Jesus, Champ, calm down,” you pat his shoulders.

“Will I see you again?” Desperation laces his question.

“Dunno really,” you shrug.

“Can you wait for me?”

Your brows furrow.

“I’ll retire by 2028. No, that's still long. 2027. Ah no—2026? Can you wait for me? I—” Max’s hand trembles. “I love you. I love you, [Name]. I—I love you even before Kelly. I can’t. I can't lose you.”

The world stops.

“I am stupid, I am selfish, and I think I’m asking too much. If you can just wait for me, I’ll—I can even retire next year if you think it's too long—”

“Hold up right there, Champ,” you stop him. “You're not retirin’ early.”

“If you want me to, I will.”

You sigh in exasperation.

“Max,” your voice is low. “That’s your career. I’m not gonna—Jesus, Max don’t retire, okay? Not even for me. Retire only when you want to.”

This man is just…

You don't know if you want to choke him or kiss him.

“I want you to have me, [Name]. I… I want to be with you, to love you, and if retiring is the only way I can do that then I will,” he says. “I love you.”

You purse your lips.

“I love you, too, Max,” you confess and now, your chest feels lighter now that you've said it out loud. “But not now, I can't love you like this. I’m too… I can't pursue a relationship with you right now. Not when…”

“It's not our time,” Max nods. “I understand.”

He really did change.

“I want to find my way through life first," you tell him.

Max smiles and he pulls you again in a hug. He has tears in his eyes again and he sniffles, chuckling at himself for crying again. He pulls away from the hug slowly and hands you your keys.

“See you around?"

“See you around.”

You exit the car and you notice that your heart feels lighter now compared to the time you left Monaco even though you are doing the same exact thing—leaving Max to go home.

At the end of 2023, you grace the paddock with your presence—your signature YSL heels is back on the tracks. You wear pants now, instead of the corporate pencil skirts, matched with a Prema Racing polo shirt. The label at the back indicates: AERODYNAMIC ENGINEER. By the end of 2024, you are promoted to the strategy team. By 2025, you become a race engineer of an up-and-coming racing superstar and you kept the job position until now.

The world didn't end just because your Dad died. It took you a while to realize that your Papa didn't own your dreams. It was always yours to begin with. He just played a part in inspiring them.

Max Verstappen became the 2024, 2025, 2026, 2027, and 2028 WDC, marking history as an eight-time consecutive champion. He retired after the 2028 season and disappeared from the face of the Earth. He had stopped going home to his penthouse in Monaco, had put his private jet on sale, and had cut ties to his father, Jos, who was very disappointed that his son had retired too early in the sport. Max retired willingly—he had achieved more awards than most of his seniors and it's time to give room to the younger ones. Rumors say that he had established a racing program somewhere in Belgium. Charles Leclerc, Max's friend, refuses to update the media regarding Max's whereabouts and only says: "He's happy. Don't worry."

Years later, a thirteen-almost-fourteen year-old girl named Emiliana Julia Verstappen, racing under the American flag, become the youngest driver in history to join the ranks of the F1 academy and later, she becomes the youngest driver to ever drive a Formula One car, racing for Scuderia Ferrari as second driver, at only seventeen and a hundred and fifty days old, overthrowing Max Emilian Verstappen, retired eight-time F1 WDC, whom the world has not seen since his retirement, from the list.

#max verstappen x reader #f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula one #max verstappen #max verstappen x you #f1 imagines #fanfic #manager!reader #mv33 x reader #mv1 x reader

[maxarchive]

Fear, faith, friendship: Inside F1’s most precious relationship

[...]

When now-triple world champion Max Verstappen was first promoted to the Red Bull team mid-season in 2016, race engineer Gianpiero Lambiase was tasked with moulding an 18-year-old possessing both supreme talent and a frank demeanour with only a few days' notice.

"I had experience working with multiple drivers before Max, and that was one of the biggest helps in terms of hitting the ground running with him. I think if I would have been a newbie to my role - I won't quite say he would have eaten me alive, but I'm not sure he would have had that respect for a junior engineer."

Their relationship was an immediate success. Verstappen became the youngest race winner in F1 history, finishing first on his debut at the Spanish Grand Prix. But, generally, the first few years of Lambiase and Verstappen's partnership were spent chasing perennial frontrunners Mercedes.

"Max learned some really harsh lessons in the two or three years before 2021. His racecraft really was something that we focused on, making sure we were just picking up points when it wasn't possible to win a race. We were concentrating on building his consistency, needing to be finishing every race, maybe not putting himself in a situation where he can end up in a 50/50 accident with another driver."

[...]

Sometimes, though, tension between driver and race engineer can spill over in the most high-pressure moments.

Now in his ninth season working with Verstappen, having won the championship in each of the past three seasons, Lambiase's voice is a staple of every F1 broadcast and has become recognisable to fans all around the world.

The pair's success does not mean their communications are entirely straightforward.

"I think it is inevitable in any relationship that there are disagreements. The first port of call is acceptance of that. Secondly, you need to have faith in each other that it is for the greater good rather than there being any kind of malicious undertone. That is at the core of the relationship. As an engineer, I need to understand that ultimately Max is in the hot seat, not me. So while we are all working in a pressurised environment, the driver is at a level well beyond that. As an older citizen I would like to think I am mature enough to step back and let him vent when necessary, but to also make him understand why decisions are being made. If I was a yes man, I would have been gone long ago. We have just got that honesty in the relationship between us that we can be blunt and straight-talking when needed."

As well as coping with adrenaline themselves, race engineers must manage the pressure on their racers.

The 2021 campaign was arguably the most intense in F1's 74-year history. After an acrimonious year marked by heavy collisions between the pair on track and serial sparring between their respective team principals in the paddock, Verstappen and rival Lewis Hamilton's title fight came down to the wire at the season finale in Abu Dhabi.

"I wouldn't want to repeat 2021 in a hurry. It was incredibly competitive on and off the track [but] sometimes I think it went beyond the realms of sport. In terms of taking that pressure away from Max, I tried to stress with everybody here that we continued as normal. We treated every race as a single event rather than trying to look too far down the line at what could be."

[...]

In some cases though, the idea of starting afresh following the end of such a deep connection doesn't appeal any more.

"I honestly see Max as a younger brother. We can talk about anything and anyone at any time. We're at the point where we just felt completely relaxed and at ease with each other. Maybe I am speaking out of turn, but I don't think I would have any interest in working with another driver now. Having had the success that we have enjoyed together with Max, working with one of the greatest talents that the sport has ever seen, I don't think it would be fair on another driver, from their perspective or mine, to try and replicate what we have achieved with Max."

In Formula 1, as in all our lives, the magic of the most special relationships will always remain utterly unique.

#max verstappen #gianpiero lambiase #f1 #2024

[motomam1]

MOTOMAMI | driver's profile

― THE BASICS

name: valeria sofía ortiz date of birth: 8th of march, 2001 place of birth: east la, california nationality: mexican-american age: 22 (as of 2023) height: 167cm / 5'5'' zodiac sign: pisces sexuality: bisexual

― VALERIA'S FORMULA CAREER

✘ FORMULA THREE (2019) team: carlin buzz racing racing number: 29 teammates: felipe drugovich, logan sargeant driver standing: 5th first win: belgium

✘ FORMULA THREE (2020) team: hitech grand prix racing number: 4 teammates: liam lawson, dennis hauger driver standing: 2nd first win: hungary

✘ FORMULA TWO (2021) team: prema racing racing number: 1 teammate: oscar piastri driver standing: 2nd first win: azerbaijan

✘ FORMULA TWO (2022) team: prema racing racing number: 2 teammate: dennis hauger driver standing: 1st first win: jeddah

✘ FORMULA ONE (2023) team: mercedes-amg petronas f1 racing number: 8 teammate: lewis hamilton driver standing: 5th (as of october) first win: --

― THE SHORT HISTORY OF VALERIA

Growing up in East LA, Valeria Sofía Ortiz hasn’t always had it easy.

With her mother leaving her at a young age, Valeria and her father had to fend for themselves early on. Her father, Alvaro Hernández Ortiz, only wanted the best life he could afford for his little angel, so he said goodbye to the gang life and opened up a mechanics shop.

Valeria developed an interest in the art of cars while helping out in her father’s shop and quickly found herself drawn to everything surrounding it. Noticing his daughter’s curiosity, Alvaro decided  to bring her out on the karting track for fun. However, he was surprised to find Valeria driving around the track in top speed and condition.

After that, he gave it his all to ensure his daughter’s return and started scavenging the scrap yards for kart parts while Valeria went around doing mini jobs, like lawn-mowing, to earn extra money to afford karting.

Facing a lot of issues as she climbed up the karting ladder, Valeria never backed down from a fight and oftentimes got into trouble because of it. But that didn’t stop her from dominating the track, gaining lots of attention from the media and the motorsport.

That’s when Toto Wolff noticed the girl, travelling to LA to check out the young racer and realising what potential she held. Becoming part of the Mercedes Junior Team, more and more opportunities opened up for Valeria as she entered the Formula world.

As she drove her way through Formula 3 and 2, she eventually got offered a seat at the Mercedes-AMG Petronas F1 team alongside 7x world champion, Lewis Hamilton.

Navigating her life as one of the top 20 drivers of the world, Valeria is met with new challenges and obstacles being thrown at her…

series masterlist | navigation

#driver's profile #driver!oc #female driver!oc #formula one #f1 #formula one x oc #f1 x oc #formula one x reader #f1 x reader #formula one imagine #formula one imagines #f1 imagine #f1 imagines #lewis hamilton x oc #lewis hamilton x reader #f1 scenario #f1 scenarios #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #formula one fanfic #formula one fanfiction

[bleubrri]

۪۪۫۫ ༄ؘ ˑ ᴀᴅʀᴇɴᴀʟɪɴᴇ — ʜᴀɴᴍᴀ sʜᴜᴊɪ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

༄ؘ ˑ contains: f1 driver!shuji , pit crew manager!reader , endless petnames ( doll / angel / pretty girl / sweetheart etc ) , black coded!fem!sub!reader , vaginal fingering , squirting , cunnilingus , a lil pussy job , v brief mention of anal , jerkin’ off , dacryphilia + overstim if you squint , shuji tuckin’ your cum away for safe keeping<3

༄ؘ ˑ wc: 4k

༄ؘ ˑ a/n: belated bday piece for hanma🤸🏾not proof read as per ͡(ुŏ̥̥̥̥ ‸ ŏ̥̥̥̥) ु

“piece of fucking shit—” the sound of his helmet slamming into the tarmac has hanma’s useless excuse for a pit crew flinching under the racers rage. he’d practically leaped out of his car in his blaze of fury, sweat-sticky bangs clinging to his skin as he beelined into the pits. his attempts at trying to stay remotely calm (every one of that brainless psychologists tricks—count down from 10, five things you can see, four things you can hear or whatever the fuck) are crushed into dust when he catches sight of the crew manager, cigarette bobbing between his lips as he attempts to flirt with a runner 2 decades his junior. and hanma sees red, yanks him back by the collar so harshly that he almost goes spinning onto the track (maybe it’d to him good to take a few laps, shuji’s engine revving behind him just to keep him on his toes—).

“what the fuck?!”

“you’re fired.” hanma spits, tone laced with vitriol.

“what?” he says incredulously, “look, you can’t blame me for not winning. shoddy drivin’ ain’t gonna make up for lost time—“ hanma pulls back his fist, since apparently this idiot has a death wish. kisaki let’s him get one punch in, the satisfying crunch of a broken nose echoing before he catches him by the crook of his elbow. his manager takes in the scene, glancing at the runner who’s still hovering, wide eyed and uncertain (probably a damn apprentice they look so young) and grunting out, “leave.”

“you.” he gestures to his short-tempered racer, “walk it off.”

“whatever.” hanma sniffs, casting a final death-glare to the ex pit crew chief and kicking up shards of rubber as he saunters off.

kisaki ignores the outrage that gets spewed at him when he instructs the crew manager to pack his shit. he’s nursing an electromagnetic headache by the time he slinks into his office, wrapping his knuckles against the desk and calling for his assistant. thick lensed glasses and blue eyes peek from behind the door. “sir?”

“call her.” he says, massaging his temple and contemplating if it’s too early to retire.

nervous eyes dart around the room. “I— sir, she doesn’t—“

“call her.” he repeats with a finality that has his assistant shuddering and slinking towards the phone.

-

ten.

the smell of burning rubber, astringent and sharp, singes your nostrils and coats the back of your tongue.

nine.

“get ready people! in and out, let’s get this playboy back out there.” your quip earns you a few chuckles as your crew assembles into the positions you’ve calculated to optimise the switch.

eight. seven. six.

maybe you can leech an extra bonus off of that eerily stoic manager for your efforts. the last thing you expected was your college friend calling you in the middle of a well deserved vacation, big wet eyes and pleading tone dripping through the screen in desperate need of a favour. you’d agreed—you supposed you owed it to him for endlessly mooching notes off of him in countless late night study sessions. and your crew were good sports about it (it only took the promise of hosting at your house for new years and supplying booze for upwards of 40 people). one race, you’d said. just to tide them over until they found someone permanent for the grand prix.

five. four.

the plan is solid. everyone, everything’s in place. a flash of colour veers round the bend and your grip on your clipboard tightens.

three.

you can almost see your crew’s fingertips twitching with anticipation.

two.

oh this’ll be a breeze. fun even. maybe you can be on the train home by tomorrow morning; knock out a couple chapters of that book you’ve been meaning to finish. cook some dinner, indulge in that chardonnay gifted from the neighbour.

one.

just one more race.

-

hanma hasn’t been the first racer to leave the pits in a while. he’s almost always the first one in, having to overcompensate in the laps following half assed pit stops by crews that can barely change a fucking tire. so it’s by instinct alone that he’s preparing his usual schpiel of mumblings. c’mon, come on let’s fucking go—

but his words never get the chance to form. he’s barely eased off the gas—barely blinked before he’s burning rubber and shooting back onto the track.

adrenaline is pounding in his ears, and he vaguely registers the screams of the crowd and frantic commentary from the hosts: i don’t think we’ve seen a pit stop like that in a hot second, ted! no you’re absolutely right, josh, especially not from hanma’s corner! word on the street is he’s looking for a fresh new team ahead of the world grand prix—has the infamous racer finally found his match?

he’s giddy with the rush of an impending win flooding his veins, a smile that’s almost ditzy pulling at his lips until he can feel his gums pressing against his molars. a quick glance in his rears reveals a gaggle of black jumpsuits surrounding a figure dressed in red, the stickers from his sponsors adorning your back and torso.

and when his car gains speed and his knuckles whiten beneath his gloves as he approaches the finish line, hanma decides that he has to have you.

-

“he’s not here! winner’s lounge is further down!” you shout from around the pencil wedged between your teeth. the pits are deserted, with everyone having retreated to the press corner and vip lounge for drinks after an admittedly impressive win. you figured you’d make the most of the peace and quiet and edit a few designs in the seclusion of the garage, the shutters half shut for some privacy and hanma’s car acting as your only company.

and yet the pair of feet visible through the gap in the bottom of the shutters are suddenly sliding underneath. “hey! he’s not here, dude. it’s crew only, you’re not even supposed to be he—oh.”

you’ve only really seen snippets of him—blurry paparazzi shots of him in dark shades and a hoodie slung over his tall figure—but the riot of black and blonde, the stark characters of sin and punishment, it’s all very telling.

“did you.. need something?”

“jus’ addin’ to the collection.” he says, producing his medal that was shoved into a pocket and dropping it into a tray of similar awards. it’s ridiculous really—a little trinket tray full of medals that people spend their entire careers in pursuit of. and yet here he is, 6 foot gorgeous and acting like he couldn’t care less. you resist the urge to rake over his lean form in the tight jumpsuit that he still wears, suddenly very aware of your own jumpsuit: zipped to your waist with arms bare in nothing but a sports bra (and not even one of your cute ones). you frown at the figures and measurements on the papers in front of you. would it be weird to cover up? or weirder if you don’t? surely he’ll leave in a second anywa—

“watcha doin’?” his chin is practically resting on your shoulder as he leans over you, peering at your post-it scribbles and months long blueprints. he smells good. something spicy and masculine that makes you want to turn your head and press your nose to his pulse. apparently he’s enjoying the way his proximity is affecting you, gold-flecked eyes locking with yours as you stutter out a response.

“ah, just going over some plans. nothing exciting really.”

long fingers graze over the paper obscuring your design. “didn’t know pit crew managers designed engines.” he watches you wring your hands together on your lap, suddenly sheepish.

“it’s just for fun, really. might not be one forever..” you mumble.

“you design formula 1 engines for fun?”

“i guess so.”

“MIT?” he asks as if he can’t already tell and you nod.

the hum that rumbles in his chest jumps over your skin and burns goosebumps in its wake. “clever little thing, aren’t you?”

there’s a desert in your mouth. your saliva has to be a fucking mirage because you’re definitely swallowing sand.

“i—“

“pretty too.” he says, tugging on a particularly curly loop of your hair. (it’s short, maybe as short as his, because there’s only so much shampoo a person can go broke from trying to get the smell of gasoline out of hair that grazes your mid-back).

“thanks.” you croak out uncertainly.

“i want you.” he deadpans and you can feel the harsh crunch of grains between your teeth, saharan dust clogging your throat by the mouthful.

“you—what?” you aren’t sure whether hanma’s smile should make you feel excited or uneasy. still, you try not to noticeably clench your thighs together.

“in paris.”

“p-paris?”

he raises a knowing brow as he smirks at your adorable squirming. “i want you there, in paris. for the first race. and every race after that.”

at that, you frown and your answer comes at a speed that surprises you both. “no.” and then, more softly, “i’m… supposed to be on vacation.” you mumble.

he clicks his tongue, dissatisfied. “c’mon sweetheart. it took me one race to figure out you’re the best of the best—you’ve gotta know that by now. and i—“ he starts, lifting your chin from where it’s tucked into your chest, “want the best.”

you step up from your seat a little too fast and slam your pencil down a little too harshly, running a hand over your hair and sighing, “you don’t need me, hanma. you won with a six lap lead today, i think you’ll be fine.” hanma sighs dramatically, walking backwards into the centre of the garage. the distance both calms your nerves and makes you crave something you can’t quite place.

punishment is extended to you, lustrous eyes daring you to deny him. “c’mere.” his hands are slightly warm. palms a little calloused and knuckles sharp when he laces your fingers together and pulls you deeper into the garage, right in front of where his car is parked. admittedly, it’s fucking gorgeous up close—the fleeting glimpses on the speedway don’t do it anywhere near justice. hanma takes advantage of your stunned silence and slots in right behind you, sporting a wicked grin unbeknownst to you when his palms land on your shoulders and he feels you immediately tense under his touch.

“you know why i love racing?” his voice is low and gravelly and travelling straight between your legs. and when his head dips and he whispers over the shell of your ear, you release a shaky breath that you didn’t realise was trapped in your lungs. “adrenaline.” he says. “it builds up. every lap of the track, building and building—“ it’s hard to ignore the way his fingers are sliding further up your skin. “until i cross the finish line with those fuckers miles behind me.” calloused pads ghost over your jaw until hanma’s tilting your gaze upwards. dark and blonde strands have fallen over his eyes, and yet you could swear his pupils look blown, thick lashes more prominent under his half lidded study of you. “you ever feel like that?” it’s phrased as a question, but something in his tone assures you that he knows. “tell me what you felt, today, when we won.” when we won. hanma’s laying it on a little thick, but he has a feeling it’ll all be so, so worth it.

“i—i thought you did well. i was.. proud of my team.” you manage to whisper.

“oh c’mon doll,” the corner of his lips is tilted in a knowing smirk and he leans in closer, “‘s just us, you can drop the modesty.” the subtle heat of sin is suddenly gliding over your waist.

“i—“ you can’t fucking speak, his left hand settling over the skin of your stomach and toying with the zip that sits below your navel. “c’mon angel, you can trust me.”

“i felt it.. i felt it too.” you blurt out. “adrenaline—when you turned the corner. w-when you crossed the finish line. felt like i fucking won.” you’re spewing words out between heavy breaths and he rewards you for it, tracing the lace that lines your panties, the seam that connects your inner thigh to your heated cunt, before tensing the fabric against the plush mound of your pussy. he explores your covered folds through the thin barrier, tracing the peaks and valleys he finds while dragging your panties in steady strokes against you, drool-worthy friction scathing across your weeping cunt. pink flashes from between his teeth as hanma runs his tongue over his lips and you get the sudden insatiable urge to suck on it. to chart the course of his mouth until you get lost between his teeth, under his tongue and down his throat.

“i knew it.” he smiles like he’s proud, “only reason i got such a lead was ‘cause you know how to manage those nobodies.”

did he mean your team? “t-they’re not nobod-“

“they’re nothing.” he insists, “but you, angel face,” he continues, wrenching your panties aside and delighting in the sticky mess that he finds there, “oh you’re everything.”

the moan that escapes you when hanma immediately plunges two lithe fingers past the tight rings of your entrance is swallowed into his mouth when he captures your lips with his. he’s got sharp canines that dig into the plush of your lower lip as he parts them at the seam and licks into your mouth. you’re as sweet as he thought you’d be: he laves over your spit-slick tongue like it’s his favourite piece of candy, swears your teeth have to be rocks of sugar with the way his tastebuds light up at the taste of you.

the stretch from his fingers is tapering into a dull throbbing as he glides the pads of his digits along the satiny walls of your cunt, subtly grinding the hardening tent at his crotch against the curve of your ass. one of your hands slinks upwards and slithers around his nape. blunt nails scratch at the shorter hair there, jolts of electricity shooting to the base of his spine and sparking delicious heat in his gut. your fingers can’t seem to decide what they want, torn between tugging at the soft locks of his crown and burying themselves there to push him closer. either way, the feeling has him growling against your mouth and writhing his fingers until he’s knuckle deep inside you and coated in your slick. when he crooks his fingers, angling them to press into the fleshy bundle of nerves at your centre, you whimper beneath him, arching into his touch and clenching around his digits like a fucking diver grasping at a gem on the depths of the seabed.

heated breaths fan over puffy lips as you pull back to come up for air. it proves pointless—any trace of oxygen punched from your chest when hanma cups your entire pussy and grinds the heel of his palm into the throbbing nub of your clit. your head falls limp against his chest, drawn out moans and little sniffles pulling his attention from the feast between your legs. his gaze is met with damp lashes and an almost imperceptible wobble of your lip. somehow the prospect of your tears has his dick twitching with excitement and threatening to burst through his clothes. he fantasises about having you sprawled out beneath him, tasting salt on you lips and feeling wet trails down your cheeks. maybe mascara would stain your cheeks, inky tracks that worsen with each snap of his hips, sheathing his cock further into the gooey depths of your heat. it’s a tangible possibility, one that has him sporting an erection that could shatter glass. “shit—you cryin’ pretty girl?” he mutters before trailing kisses along the length of your jaw.

“ngh! ‘s so—‘s so good, hanma.” you’re mewling, the increasing pace of his fingers thrusting into you twisting your throat until rapid breaths are being puffed from your lips and the coil in your stomach pulls taut.

“shuji.” he says simply, latching onto your neck and sucking a bruise into the column of your throat.

you can feel your arousal dripping down your inner thighs and stringing his fingers together. between the involuntary grinding against his clothed dick and the searing kisses on your skin, you’re trying to move through the fog of desire that’s clouding your brain; a warning of you about to crash over the edge almost making its way off your tongue before hanma’s shuffling forward, spinning you to face him and pushing you down until you’re sprawled out on the thin hood of his car. his fingers slow their ministrations a fraction and yet never leave their rightful place, nestled against your g-spot. there really isn’t a lot of space on the car, though you suppose it doesn’t matter, ogling him with misty heart-eyes as hanma’s towering form slots over you. the forearm of his free hand slams against the glossy paint job right next to your head, his long legs spread wide to give him the perfect leverage to grind his dick into the edge of the car and relentlessly swirl his digits into the mess of your cunt. and when he feels the telltale squeeze of your walls, he practically rips your jumpsuit down your legs to get a flawless view of the rivets of fluid that spew from around his fingers.

“fuck yeah, good fuckin’ girl.” he’s groaning as his body shifts down and retracts his fingers, sucking swollen, leaking flesh into the rapturous heat of his mouth. “thats it,” he drawls, his drawn out words sending vibrations across the sensitive lips of your pussy. “more, c’mon doll, give me more.” your hands fly into his hair as your spine arches under his expert tongue, swirling and licking up the length of your slit, the pointed tip of his nose pressing into your clit with a pressure that pushes more essence from you as he drinks you down for what seems like forever. “hm, you wanna keep this pretty pussy all to yourself? got a feelin’ this cute little clit’s gonna become my good luck charm.” he’s taken to tracing his initials into the perk cluster of nerves with the tip of his tongue, soaked fingers trailing every inch of your exposed flesh as your hips buck and grind, trying to get more and more friction from his face. your skin is puffy and glistening in a sheen of spit and slick under the dimmed lights of the garage. and you’ve got a cute little rim too, one that twitches when his touch ghosts anywhere remotely near it and it has him dying to fuck your ass until you’re screaming for him.

when your thighs mindlessly inch closer together, caging in his head, punishment is quick to slam one back down, his thumb working to spread you further and his head pushing further into your core. with the endorphins of your high mellowing into a pleasurable buzz, you’re suddenly aware of the sensitivity between your legs and the desperate movement of hanma’s hips.

“s-shuji—“ you call, carting your fingers through his hair. the image of him surfacing is a lewd one: wild eyes that drip with desire, slick coating the bottom half of his face with droplets littering everywhere from his collar to his forehead, a sheen of sweat on this hairline that has the hair there sticking together.

you steal his mouth for yourself, moaning at the taste of your release and his sweet breath pairing together along your tongue. the firm grasp of your fingers beginning to squeeze the bulge of his cock has him bucking into your hand and nipping at the flesh of your lip between groans. “shit—“ he breathes, reaching for the zipper of his jumpsuit and stripping down to his boxers in the space of a few hazy blinks. saliva pools in your mouth at the sight of sinewy musculature, dark hairs along the base of his navel stark against the pale expanse of his torso. beauty marks pepper his sleek abs and you get the desire to sink your teeth into the lean muscle of his thighs when they flex under his movements. it gets better when he frees his cock. a pretty thing; thick and long—his length has you clenching around air and worrying for your cervix. his head is flushed a deep crimson that almost looks painful, and you’d kill to have it shoved into the sleeve of your throat. you’re reaching for him, eyeing the throbbing veins that twist along the ridges of his shaft with a lustful gaze, but he pushes you down with one hand and wraps a tight fist around his girth with the other.

“not today, sweetheart.” he says, pumping his length and squeezing below the sensitive head of his cock, thumbing at his slit as a pearly coat of pre spreads along his shaft.

“what?” you’re looking up at him with doe-eyes through wet lashes, a sweet pout on your pretty lips. “you’re not.. you’re not gonna fuck me?” you mumble it like you’re embarrassed, as if you didn’t just squirt into his mouth and hump his face like a bitch in heat. hanma sighs, letting his dick slap against his stomach and pulling you to the edge of the car by the crook of your knees. you yelp, hands landing onto the hood (and the puddle of slick beneath you). he slides your panties down and takes off your jumpsuit from where it’s pooled around your legs, leaving your sex gorgeously exposed. his hand wraps around his erection, delivering a wet slap with the head of his cock directly over your clit. he watches with delight as a few more dewy drops spew from your slit, the way your face contorts in pleasure and a broken moan escapes you. he continues, does it over and over again, occasionally letting his length glide between the drenched lips of your cunt.

“i’ll fuck every pretty little hole you have to offer dollface.” he smiles as he cups your chin, his knees digging into the harsh metal of the cars hood, caging your body beneath him as he frantically strokes himself. “i’ll fuck you in toronto. in cape town, in tokyo.” he lists as his free hand slides down your torso and he begins to draw sticky circles above your slit. “i’ll fuck you in paris, first.”

his digits dip back inside you, his thumb keeping steady pressure on your clit as his other hand twists along his shaft. “for now, let’s give you a real one. yeah?” you want to argue that your first orgasm felt pretty goddamn real, but your answer comes in the form of your eyes slipping back, your hand clutching onto his wrist, unsure if you want to push him away from your oversensitive hole or keep him sheathed there until you physically can’t cum anymore.

“please, please shuji i’m—mmph fuck, fuck—‘m gonna cum.” oh he knows you are. the silky feeling of your cream between his fingers is enough for the frayed rope in his stomach to snap, milky ropes of his seed spurting from his dick and landing across your pretty cunt in a lecherous slew of arousal. curses are grunted from between his lips, his fist tightening round his cock to milk every drop of his cum onto your messy little hole. each sticky glob of his seed dripping onto you has your pussy clenching around air, pulsing with aftershocks and the desperate desire to have shuji’s cum stuffing you full, flooding your cunt until syrupy strings of it leak from your slit and claim you from the inside out.

silently, he tucks himself back into his boxers and slinks your shaky legs into your discarded underwear, the mixture of your cum and his immediately dampening the fabric. hanma grins, pressing an open-mouthed kiss over the damp spot that has you shuddering out a whimper. he levels his head with yours, a fucked-out smile gracing your lips that he can’t help but press a kiss against too.

“so.” he says.

“so..?”

“paris.”

you giggle, airy and breathless and entirely too fucking infatuating. faux contemplation is laced in the hum that you sing, locks of his hair between your fingers keeping you tethered here and barely stopping you from floating up into orbit. your heads in the clouds, but shuji’s lips are a whisper away, kiss-puffed and begging you to come back to them. “paris.” you say, and before the last syllable can evaporate into the air, shuji’s mouth is slotting against your own so perfectly that you wonder how you’ll ever be able to kiss anyone but him again.

#: @wh0reforlevi

#hanma x reader #hanma shuji x reader #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo rev x reader #tokyorev smut #tokrev x reader #tokrev smut #tokyo rev smut #hanma smut #hanma shuji smut #hanma x y/n #hanma x you #tokyo rev x y/n #tokyo rev x you #tokyo rev #tokyo revengers #hanma shuji #tokyo revengers x black!reader

[oh-saints]

Fellow engineer here! Thank you for not writing us off ❤️ Can you do an F1 engineer and that's how you meet Ruben Dias or Mason Mount?

i'm sorry this takes AGES but here's to you fellow engineers <3

paddock

rúben was only supposed to enjoy another favourite sport of his over the weekend in monaco and she was only supposed to drag george russell from the william’s garage, for the driver hung around too much with alex albon. but life, as we know it, never made it as simple as it seemed.

rúben dias x f1crew!reader

word count: 1.8k

note: good god, this has been sitting for far too long... time to let this out! mainly inspired by pictures of rúben watching f1 in monaco and as usual, i happen to always write around dawn so ofc this is not beta-read.

request still open & you can drop them here!

goddamn it, russell.

the young british racer was infamously known for his mischief way of life, pranking people here and there whenever he wasn’t driving his racing car, and—unfortunately—you happened to be on the other end of his antics, more often than not.

as the junior engineer to someone who didn’t bother to hide his distaste towards rigorous technical discussions, your job sometimes required you to flip the entire paddock upside down to hunt george down until he finished all of the nitty gritties he’d rather bypass.

it was another case of haas team finding out mick hang around in mercedes’ garage a while ago. except for you, it was more of a weekly case.

as soon as you spotted the bright blonde locks amongst brown heads, you forced your feet to move faster because your supervisor’s wrath wasn’t something you were fond of. especially when you were now tired from hearing it’s been weeks and you still can’t get him to work together with you? endlessly every weekend.

“george william russell!”

at your shout, alex albon and nicholas latifi immediately went into a disperse. they knew george was due for a wee bit of finalizing this weekend’s machinery, but the brit managed to coax them into playing with him, and now that you were barrelling towards them, they didn’t want any part of it.

you were already using george’s full name, anyway. definitely time to run for the williams racers.

“alright, alright,” the youngest between the racers, groaned. “I’m coming, okay?”

you didn’t say anything else as a response to that, other than dragging george by the hand.

“I said I’m coming, okay!” he shouted at you this time but you paid no heed. he wasn’t the one rolling your paycheck anyway. “let me grab my tumbler first, jesus.”

george stashed your fingers away before he walked away from you. only then did you realise that everyone’s eyes had been directed towards the quarrel between you and george, and you had never felt so small in your life.

this was exactly why you insisted on working behind the scene, despite your immense love for motor racing since childhood.

“hi, there.”

you were so startled that you jumped on your feet, almost knocking off someone in front of you that definitely looked like an important guest, suits and all.

“I’m sorry,” the man continued with a soft chuckle, and you melted in your place at the sheepish grin plastered on that gorgeous face. “I didn’t mean to surprise you.”

your eyes couldn’t help themselves when they scanned the hanging lanyard, indicating he was a guest of this side of the paddock. when your vision went back up, you noticed he was now flashing a full-watt grin—he’d caught you checking him out. well, sort of.

you coughed yourself while you straightened your spine and feet, in order to regain your composure, but before you could open up your beak to reciprocate his effort—you love a good banter—george shouted for your name from a far.

“let’s go!” with his wicked smile, george knew what he was doing to mess up your chance on scoring what could possibly your big shot

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

“hi again, there.”

the meeting had ended well—it always did because george actually knew what he was doing and his feedbacks were always valuable. he was just too lazy to sit through the meeting, dealing with technical jargons and everything. so now you were back to the paddock, just in time for the mechanic’s pit-stop practice.

you had stepped aside, giving the performing team more space so they could work more freely under countless eyes of the VIPs and paddock-club owners who were interested with the whole ordeal. so certainly, you didn’t expect the man from earlier to sneak up behind everyone’s back so he could reach you.

it seemed like he had a knack for surprising you.

“oh, hi,” but you didn’t want to complain. you’d be too shy to come up to him if you had the chance, anyway. “fancy seeing you again, monsieur.”

seeing you weren’t giving off a bad signal whatsoever, he stepped in closer to you, which meant closer view to those fit, bulging arms he was folding in front of his chest now. you were about to remind yourself to breath when he spoke up, “you certainly look like you belong here more than william’s.”

“and white certainly looks better on you than blue,” you had been mentally taking note about the white Mercedes shirt he was now dangling messily over his own beige shirt, but you didn’t mean to say that out loud. realising your slip of tongue, you averted the conversation elsewhere. “sorry i haven’t had the chance to introduce myself.”

“rúben,” he replied after you said your name, welcoming your extended hand. “i’ve got to say i’m impressed with your garage more than william’s or mclaren’s.”

you had to remind yourself to breath and act normal after you felt his hands. it was pretty much what you imagined them to be—damn, you were swooning over a hand? that was the first. “why’s that?”

“well, beside the fact that you’re here?”

chuckling, you had to give this man a kudos for sporting no-nonsense. this indicated he knew what he wanted and for you, that was a very sexy aspect a man could possess. “here i am thinking to give you a pass to let you watch the race from here,”

rúben couldn’t help but laugh at your playful banter. you were exactly how he thought you to be and god, isn’t this refreshing? all these models on his DMs were giving him one-dimensional conversations. “oh no, i’ve blown my chances!”

you found it impressive that rúben was able to make you laugh effortlessly, despite the lame joke. is it because those big, brown eyes? “if you promise to be a good boy, i might cancel what i said.”

“of course i will, mother,” he stood up straighter, hands were now behind his back, in line with the act he was putting on.

the attractive gummy smile was still attached to the face, though.

“i was saying that mercedes’ better because i spot some different equipment and tools and other things i don’t see on other garages and it’s interesting you’re a part of why it runs smoothly here.”

“alright, alright, here’s your headphone,” you rolled your eyes as if you’d heard enough of the same pick up line, but in truth, you were trying to mask your palpitating heart from the last part of his sentence. “please stay behind this line right here and do not, at any circumstances, use the mic here. i’ll be very busy during the race so if you need anything, you can ask nicola here.”

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

the silver arrow gained 1-2 deadlock till the end of the most legendary street circuit and the whole team erupted in cheers. it’d been a long while since they’d last done it here, and it meant more for you because you got to soak in the experience as the lead engineer for george russell. another achievement unlocked for you, to stand winning amongst those brilliant group of men as your teammates.

the euphoria almost blinded you and swept you away to join the rest of the crew in the side line as the cars pulled up for post-race procedures. until you forgot your sunglasses so you could look up to the historic podium, and that was when you realised rúben was still standing not far from where your working post was.

the reality dawned on you.

“you’re still here.”

he did not move an inch from the post you’d designated for him, not far from you. he’d seen you working, through ups and downs of a stressful race. while deep down you felt ashamed he must’ve seen you cursing and cussing like those words were water to your tongue, you were more touched at the fact that he was waiting for you.

waiting for you while you worked, waiting for you while you celebrated with your teammates. all without imposing—the paddock had seen and invited so many celebrities inside, and the guests would jump as if they contributed to the win the team was achieving. but rúben wasn’t like that, at all, and you could feel whatever wall you were trying to put up, obliterated at that second.

noticing you were too stunned at whatever sight you were witnessing, rúben walked up to you. “you think i’m going somewhere?”

“well, would you wait? until the podium’s finished?”

you knew you were shooting for the stars because this man was a VIP guest, albeit for another team on the grid, but heck, you had to try. it’d been a while since the last time a man intrigued you the way rúben had been doing.

it’d been a while since the last time rúben felt the same way too. “for you? absolutely.”

you didn’t know if it was the adrenaline or the longing feeling of a man sweeping you off you feet—you’d grown steel since being surrounded by men almost 7 days a week—that fueled you brain, and fuck did you not want to know. rúben’s cliché answer was enough of a reason for you to reach for those muscular, long arms hidden under his shirt and pulled him to join the crowd heading towards the podium.

you laughed as carlos’ manager spotted you dragging rúben almost like a ragdoll and the carefree, out-of-pressure laugh brought a wide smile to rúben’s face. he liked this, a woman handling stares thrown at them like a second skin to you, more than he’d like to admit. and maybe, he needed this more than he thought he would.

rúben used his huge, muscular figure to maneuvered you to his front, protecting you from push and shove from people around you both just because they wanted to see their favourite racer lifting the trophy. such gesture would usually scare you because you’d gotten used to such treatment during your trip to the club, but this time, you couldn’t help but melt under his ministrations.

feeling you getting comfortable, rúben dared himself to shoot for the stars this time. he dipped down, levelling his lips to your ears so you could hear him despite the loud atmosphere. “ditch the party tonight and have a dinner with me.”

it didn’t take you a second to respond, “where do you have in mind?”

#anon asks #oh-saints answers #oh-saints writes #oh-saints writes requests #ruben dias #rúben dias #ruben dias imagine #ruben dias fic #ruben dias fics #ruben dias imagines #ruben dias fluff #ruben dias x you #footie fic #footie fics #footballer x you #footie fanfic

[arturleclerc]

Hi :) just a bit curious about this post of yours >>>> /post/727134503331561472/2011-2023 << was Max a Redbull junior team driver back in 2011?? I always thought he got there only in 2014??

as far as I know, he did join the junior team in 2014 but I could be wrong??? However, Daniel and Max did meet at the Red Bull Kart Fight (which is basically a tournament to determine the fastest amateur kart racer) in Zandvoort in 2011– Daniel, an RBR junior and F1 rookie, and Max one of the top karters at that time – which is why I think he was at that event.

(article 1 – image above is GOOGLE TRANSLATED)

(article 2 – image above is GOOGLE TRANSLATED)

here's the video! Unfortunately, I can't understand Dutch (tw: jos jkljkl)

max wearing an rbr cap in 2009 (tw: jos)

(Someone who has more knowledge on Max's karting/racing career pls help 😭)

#sorry anon saw this earlier but i had to pick up something and didn't get a chance to reply #max verstappen #maxiel #daniel ricciardo

[i-am-church-the-cat]

I need help compiling all the similarities between Alex and Logan

So far I have:

Both won a CIK-FIA Junior World Championship

Both Joined Williams in 2021 (roughly)

Alex + George grew up together / George mentored Logan in junior series

Both race for countries that aren’t the one they live in primarily

Former opponents and teammates have said that they are incredible racers but haven’t had the best opportunities to show that in their F1 careers

Got out qualified in every race of a season by their teammate

#i need more #them basically being fated together isndriving me crazy #logan sargeant #alex albon #williams racing

[laura1633]

https://www.tumblr.com/laura1633/745328787188842496/hi-im-pretty-new-to-f1-and-please-ignore-this-if

I am sorry but I just wanted add something to this too. I agree with you that they have very similar driving styles. I think it’s because they grew up competing against each other. They both had to learn from each other in order to beat the other.

Recently Ocon did an interview where he said that he thinks max and Charles are some of the most talented drivers, especially when they were kids. To me that sounds like back when they were karting it was always Charles and max trading wins. (Lol I am not sure if ocon was really up there fighting with them tho)

Max had even said it himself that if he made it to f1, so would Charles. They have years of history together. Years of experience racing each other. I think they’ve learned a lot from each other. And that’s why I believe have very similar driving styles.

Sorry for the rant. I just wanted to give my two cents. Please let me know your thoughts!

Hi anon, definitely no need to apologise for this, I love to hear people's thoughts so this was really interesting

I am by no means an expert on Max and Charles' earlier careers but they definitely did grow up racing against each other and it seems there was a buzz early on about their rivalry so what you say makes complete sense. I think a good racer will (especially when they are still developing their skills) look to their competition and see if there is anything they are doing that could be integrated in to their own style. It therefore makes sense that racing against each other could have had an effect on how they developed over the years. Max and Charles did also race for the same F3 team I believe (although in different years) so perhaps that also helped shape them.

With Max and Charles they clearly pay attention to each other and know how to race against each other. I remember in Abu Dhabi last year Charles talking about their battle on track and saying something along the lines of knowing where Max would be looking and what he would be doing. So there is definitely a good level of awareness there.

In terms of adapting we could also look at what happened in Austria 2019 (😬). Obviously Charles was furious with Max at the time for what he thought was an over aggressive move but once the stewards decided it was okay then Charles said fine, he would be happy to race that way in the future also. So they are adaptable and learning all the time and testing the boundaries.

I don't know much about Ocon at all but he did race against Max in F3. In fact Esteban won the championship that year but Max impressed in a slower team and made the jump straight up to F1 so Max and Esteban do have some history too in junior categories.

Sorry I have rambled a bit there but basically I agree, I think they have consider each other equals and "rivals" for a long time and it makes sense that there could be some level of adaptation and learning from each other.

#anon asks #max verstappen #charles leclerc #Lestappen

[coimbrabertone]

If You Ain't Cheating, You Ain't Trying...Part Three.

There is a mission in Red Dead Redemption 1 titled "Liars, Cheats, and Other Proud Americans" which I considered using as the title for this blogpost. That being said, the old adage "if you ain't cheatin', you ain't tryin'" is perhaps most closely associated with NASCAR.

And the poster child of cheating in NASCAR? None other than Smokey Yunick.

Henry "Smokey" Yunick had been a pilot in World War II and turned to NASCAR when he came home, driving in the early years of the sport. He is, however, known far more for his work as a crew chief. Particularly the cheated-up monstrosities from the 1966 season.

That story actually begins in 1965, when Dodge and Plymouth banned from competing as their powerful 426 Hemi engines had not met the 500 production units for homologation standards. In protest, Chrysler Corporation pulled all their teams and drivers, including NASCAR legends Richard Petty and David Pearson.

This was a major problem, thus, in 1966, NASCAR allowed the Hemi engine. Dodge and Plymouth returned, along with their star drivers, but in turn, the Ford factory entries pulled out in protest. Thus, Ford driver Curtis Turner instead signed for Smokey Yunick to drive a Chevrolet Chevelle.

Everyone knew this Chevelle was flagrantly illegal...but nobody knew exactly how.

The most popular explanation had been that Smokey built a 7/8ths scale replica of a Chevelle with an oversided engine.

In reality, car was the right size...sort of.

Smokey had raised the floor, lowered the body, moved the body three inches back on the frame for better weight distribution, smoothed out the underside to effectively give it a 90s F1 style flat floor, had the fenders and bumpers flush to the frame, and changed the angle of the front and rear window for better aerodynamics. Yeah.

It gets worse.

Come the August race at Atlanta Motor Speedway, NASCAR had reached an agreement with star Ford driver Fred Lorenzen to get him back in the sport. He, along with another famous crew chief, Junior Johnson, were basically given a blank check to do whatever they wanted for the race, they weren't going to get disqualified.

Thus, the 1966 Ford Galaxie, had its nose to the ground, its rear swung upwards for better aerodynamics, and the windshield was 20 degrees lower than normal. Not only that, but because it was an oval turning to the left, the left side of the car was a whole three inches lower than the right side. This is still done on oval racers today, but uhh...three inches is rather obscene. So obscene, in fact, that Lorenzen needed help just to get in and out of the car.

Painted yellow and with that swing from front to back, they called it the "Yellow Banana."

Smokey's Chevelle, in all fairness, had all the earlier infractions and by now had added an extension to the back of the roof that effectively functioned as an extra spoiler.

Both cars passed inspection.

Cheating had gotten so extreme that, for the 1967 Daytona 500, NASCAR would introduce body templates, essentially the shape that a car needed to be in order to be deemed legal. As advanced as its gotten now, NASCAR still more or less works based on templates.

The key thing is though, in NASCAR, Junior Johnson and Smokey Yunick are venerated. They were both part of the inaugural class of International Motorsports Hall of Famers in 1990. Johnson was then part of the inaugural class of the NASCAR Hall of Fame in 2010. Lorenzen and Turner, who drove those cars are Hall of Famers as well. If anything, they're more popular because they cheated.

With Smokey Yunick in particular, there's an almost folkloric aspect to his cheating.

One story goes that, shortly after NASCAR finally regulated the size of the fuel tanks, Smokey drove one of his cars into inspection. NASCAR took the car apart, removed the fuel tank, and told Smokey that they found nine things wrong with the car. Smokey shrugged, turned the car on, said "better make it ten" and drove off.

How? eleven feet of two-inch diameter fuel hose, wrapped around the car. Allegedly Smokey said "I coulda driven that sumbitch to Jacksonville." Realistically, it seems that much fuel hose would only be good enough for five gallons, and I'm not sure how fuel would get from the line to the engine without a fuel tank in between, but hey, five extra gallons is still an advantage.

Anyway, the point is that cheating is considered commonplace in NASCAR and the greatest cheaters are revered. Even now, there's a belief that the Championship Four cars at Phoenix are cheated up to high heaven because they know NASCAR isn't going to disqualify a championship contender.

Or the car that Dale Earnhardt Jr. drove at the 2001 Pepsi 400 - the first race at Daytona since his father's death at the 500 earlier that year - he was driving away from the pack in clean air on a restrictor plate track. Some people say it was a gentleman's agreement not to get in Jr's way if he was in position to win, some people say the car was the most blatantly illegal thing since Smokey Yunick. Others say the team did nothing wrong but NASCAR gave them a restrictor plate with a bigger opening to get the narrative they wanted.

Nobody knows for sure, but the point remains. Cheating is part of NASCAR, always has been, and it pretty much always will be. Whether it be "HMS never legal again" or "Dem Cheatin' Yoders" NASCAR twitter will constantly have somebody throwing out cheating allegations at one team or another, but nobody really blinks an eye at it. It's just part of the culture there.

Therefore, it's interesting to see the culture clash between the two worlds of American motorsports. On the NASCAR side, cheating is revered, with these stories being told and retold and exaggerated into the folklore of the sport. Meanwhile, on the Indycar side, it's turned Team Penske, and particularly Josef Newgarden, into a villain in the eyes of many fans.

For the two most popular racing series in America, they sure do view cheating through a different lens.

#motorsports #racing #nascar #indycar #penske

[russellius]

Tucked away somewhere in his parents’ Norfolk home, there is a photograph of George Russell at his first Silverstone grand prix. If Russell has his way, it will remain tucked away for ever. Rather embarrassingly for the Mercedes driver, he is wearing a Red Bull jumper in the shot.

In fairness, it was taken in 2009 and he was only 11 years old. Yet you sense a certain awkwardness when he talks about it. “When you are a kid you tend to get things you like the look of,” he says. “And I liked the look of that jumper.”

There was a lot more for Russell to like that day. His hero was Sebastian Vettel — of, er, Red Bull — and as he stood at the exit of Copse for the opening lap, he watched his favourite flash by in the lead. Vettel went on to win the race, with team-mate Mark Webber finishing second. Russell was smitten.

“That was the moment when I was like, ‘Yeah, this is what I want to do.’ The noise and the buzz was just immense,” he says.

At the time, Russell was already a junior kart racer and a regular winner, and he would carry on in that groove for the next few years. There was certainly no lack of belief. “With the naivety of a child I used to think I could do anything. I used to think I could fly to the moon,” he says.

“I was so confident. So, so confident at a young age because I was winning. I was almost arrogant, I would say. It was only when I got to 16 that I realised it was not as straightforward as I thought. There are obstacles and there are challenges.”

These things are relative. At the age of 16 Russell still won the British Formula Four championship. And while there were a few bumps on the road when racing in European events, he was still doing enough to attract a six-figure offer from BMW to drive in DTM, the German touring car championship.

“I was like, ‘Whoa, this is unbelievable,’ ” he says. “Formula One was almost put on the sideline at that point because that was so attractive. For a kid growing up in a field with a labrador, those sorts of figures had never even been heard of.”

Russell turned it down. An alternative offer from Mercedes to fund him in Formula Three kept his ambitions on track. More titles followed and in 2019 the kid who had stood saucer-eyed in wonder at Copse a decade earlier became a full-fledged F1 driver for Williams. He would spend three seasons with the Grove outfit before moving to Mercedes at the start of last year.

The change took him from the back of the grid to the front. It meant regular podium finishes and, eventually, a first race win in Brazil. It meant he was now one of a tiny elite, with all the attention that drew. But it also brought a reckoning.

Russell, 25, is a thoughtful and articulate individual. “Some changes are for better and some for worse,” he begins. “It is a bit of a strange position to be in when you find yourself in the limelight. A lot of people want to cosy up to you for the wrong reasons. It took a bit of time for me to process this.

“They weren’t necessarily friends, but people I knew well suddenly started acting differently, asking for this and asking for that. People I hadn’t heard from for a long time came out of the woodwork.

“Now I’m in this position, which is a privilege, I see people’s true colours. So I have a close-knit group of people around me and I know they are there for the right reason.”

Remember that old Volkswagen advertisement about the man who “moved into gold, just as the clever money moved out”? Russell arrived at Mercedes at a similar moment. Lewis Hamilton had just lost his drivers’ title to Max Verstappen and at the end of Russell’s first season with the team they also surrendered to Red Bull the constructors’ crown they had held for eight years.

And yet, perhaps it was not so bad to pitch up when he did. Russell played a big part in ironing out the problems of Mercedes’ 2022 car and making this year’s model more competitive. He also acknowledges that slotting in beside Hamilton could have been problematic had the team still been the most dominant in the sport.

Has it helped that Hamilton is Russell’s senior by a margin of 13 years, seven titles and 102 race wins? “I totally agree with that,” Russell says. “When you look at Carlos Sainz and Charles Leclerc [of Ferrari] or Lando Norris and Oscar Piastri [McLaren] these guys are trying to be the one to lead the team. They are almost fighting for that No 1 spot. With us, there is no fight because we are at different stages of our careers.

“Lewis has proven everything he has to prove. The team believes in me and believe I’ll be here for the long term. It is a very good dynamic. I would expect the dynamic to change a bit if we were fighting for championships, that’s only normal. But for now we have a good relationship and have had no real tense moments on track.”

The scale of the task facing Mercedes, and every other F1 team, can be measured by the fact that Red Bull have now won 19 of the past 20 grands prix. Their near-monopoly was interrupted only by Russell’s victory in Brazil. To all intents and purposes, this year’s titles have already been decided, but Russell still believes in his team.

“We’ve got some new things coming for the race, which will be a step in the right direction. Red Bull are still favourites, but out of all of the races so far I’d say this would be our best chance.

“As a team we are definitely going in the right direction. We’ve got clear views now and you’ve seen it already with our progress. We’re slowly reeling in Red Bull. It seems like they have taken a step backwards compared to the rest of the field.”

Regardless of what happens, Hamilton and Verstappen have already cemented their places among the all-time greats in the annals of the sport. Can Russell see himself joining them at some point? He seems ambivalent about the prospect.

“When I was a ten-year-old kid I dreamt about being world champion,” he says. “I didn’t dream of being famous.

“I got asked a question recently about what legacy I wanted to leave behind. I’m 25 years old and I hadn’t even thought about this. As a kid I didn’t think about legacy or what impact I wanted to leave, I just wanted to win.

“Maybe in five years’ time that will be something I do think about. I recognise the platform we have, but equally the more success you have the bigger your platform becomes. I need to focus on that first.”

#george russell #f1 #*m #q #23 #🖤

[umgeorge]

We Sat Down With George Russell Ahead Of Grand Prix Weekend

Nothing beats the buzz you'll find in Melbourne ahead of Grand Prix weekend, but the energy in the room with George Russell-British racer who steers the mighty W15 for Mercedes-AMG Petronas F1 Team-is nothing but relaxed. His green room is a cocoon of calm in an otherwise chaotic weekend of press, brand obligations, training, and, of course, actually driving the damn car come lights out on Sunday. Greeted with a cool fist bump ("You alright, mate?"), George parks himself across from me ahead of his appearance at the IWC Chadstone boutique that same evening. Smiles on, eyes attentive, and, of course, with his timepiece in full view of the cameras, we get straight into it with the man who's always on the clock, be it his own, the FIA's, or someone else's.

John McMahon: "George, give us your favourite moment from last season. If you had to pick just one." George: "Crossing the line in Abu Dhabi to secure P2 for the team in the championship, for sure. There was such a tight battle with Ferrari for a number of races and when we went into that race it was sort of me and Charles battling it out, then suddenly, Perez came through quick and he had the five second penalty and it went down to half a second. That was the difference between us finishing second in the championship or third in the championship, and that's 2,000 peoples' bonuses back at the factory, as well. So that was a relief to secure that result for the team."

JM: "What about the off-season? Favourite moment? Do you ever feel like you really switch off?" George: "I would say I managed to switch off for about a week during the off-season, which is pretty good, but I've always got racing on my mind and I'm always dropping my engineers messages and phone calls just with ideas I have of how we can improve. But I think my favourite moment was just seeing my niece and nephew. My sister had a child, as well, in the off-season, so that was a special moment. But just doing normal stuff, being a normal person is what I like the most."

JM: "So you wore a few different watches from IWC last year, but it looks like the one you wore the most was the Ceratanium Top Gun Double Chrono." George: "Yeah, that's my favourite by far. I love it because, when I joined Mercedes as a junior driver, that was the watch that I said I wanted, and when my first IWC arrived from the team it wasn't that watch. [laughs] And it was only three years later that I managed to actually get my hands on that watch when I could afford it and I was actually a part of the Mercedes team, so it means something to me. I think it just looks really, really cool, doesn't it? It's not too out there but it's got quite a sporty look to it, so you can wear it daily. It's my go-to."

JM: "If you had to pick a watch for traveling, a watch for the paddock, a watch for date night… where would you land?" George: "Hmm, for the paddock... Probably what I'm wearing currently, the new Mercedes team watch, the Performance Chronograph from IWC. It's similar to the Top Gun in terms of the colour and the style, but the Petronas green details add a layer of depth, so that would definitely be my paddock watch. Date night, probably the Portugieser Annual Calendar. Keep it classy." JM: "And travel?" George: "I really like the-I can never pronounce it as gracefully as the Swiss-Ingenieur. It's light, easy on the wrist, and fits under a cuff as well. For travelling you never want anything too bulky."

JM: "Last year you did probably one of my all-time bucket list experiences. You embraced the Top Gun ethos in a RAF Typhoon fighter jet. It's probably the only career that's faster than an F1 car. Did it ever appeal to you, that career?" George: "It never appealed to me, but since having the experience of… Well, firstly, I just thought I was going to be a passenger. I didn't know at the time they were going to let me fly, and getting the chance to actually fly it myself, I mean, experience of a lifetime, and would really love to get back up there, because it is like a Formula 1 car up in the skies." JM: "There are a lot of parallels, aren't there?" George: "It's so agile and quick. You've got the joystick in front of you, you just move it and the thing just rolls over instantly. It's the same with an F1 car, when you're traveling, you know, 330 km/h down the straight, you turn into the corner and you zoom immediately to the other side of the track. You're in the cockpit in both respects, but the team is like such a massive part of making that operation actually happen. There's so much camaraderie between everybody. It was like a family away from home as it is for us in Formula 1. Awesome experience, so yeah, a lot of respect for what they're doing."

JM: "The inverse of that: What's the most boring thing about being an F1 driver? You can say interviews like these, I won't be offended." George: "What do you think is the most boring thing about being an F1 driver?" JM: "Probably interviews like these, no? Being pulled left, right and centre the whole time. How about time on a plane?" George: "I want to do the numbers, but I reckon over the course of a year we would spend closing in on I'd go as far as almost a whole month on a plane. All of the flights within Europe alone, I'm doing probably five flights a week on average. There are 4,000 people who travel the world for Formula 1, and it's a very luxurious lifestyle on the face of it, but a lot of time away from home, away from loved ones, a lot of time zone shifts, brutal on the body, but you know we wouldn't change it for the world because we love what we do. It's the best job in the world."

JM: "Let's talk Vegas. It didn't go quite according to plan for you last year, but was such a momentous occasion for the sport and to be under the lights. Talk us through that first time you drove the car down that strip." George: "It was fast and bumpy, one hell of a ride. On the face of it the circuit seemed pretty underwhelming, but when we drove it, it had a huge amount of character. It was great for racing and it was very challenging to drive; really low grip. We were the only category racing, so the track was very green and dusty, so for drivers it was a unique challenge. I think in the race we were doing about 350 km/h. It was very difficult to spot the breaking points 120 metres out. When you're racing in the dark, you've got the buildings between you, all the lights at such wild speeds, it was surreal."

JM: "Aside from the obvious, do you have a personal goal for 2024 that gives us some sort of insight into the man that is George Russell? It could be getting better at Spanish on Duolingo…" George: [laughs] "My girlfriend would love that. No, just to enjoy the journey. I think it's so easy to get caught up in the competitive nature of the sport and the emotional rollercoaster that you go through, the highs and the lows. It's a psychological toll on the body, so you need to turn that into good energy and positivity, happiness, and that's what I'm gonna try and do a bit more of in 2024. We've all got this one life and you just need to maximise it and the days fly by."

JM: "On that same thought then, you've got the likes of Fernando, who we wouldn't be surprised if he's still racing when he’s fifty, and then you've got Nico, who's out on top after taking the championship. Are you a race until the body says no, kind of guy?" George: "I'll be here for a long time. I don't know what I'd do without it, to be honest. I'm not one of these guys who has all of these interests outside the sport. Some people need their passions outside to disconnect as a way of enhancing their performance on the track, and I respect that. For me, my life is racing. But I'm far from achieving what I set out to and believe I'm capable of. The seasons are becoming intense, very intense, and increasingly more challenging with the number of races. I'm fit and healthy and young at the moment, and I'm dealing with it absolutely fine, but I want to make sure that in ten years' time, when I'm 35, that I can deal with a 24 race calendar and I'm still fit and I'm still performing on the top of my game."

JM: "When you get off the plane here in Melbourne, what excites you most about the weekend ahead?" George: "Those first laps and the first practice. That's always a really exciting moment because you head into a race weekend with the unknown. We have an indication of what this weekend's going to bring. We're pretty confident a Red Bull is going to be at the sharp end of the grid. We don't know if we're going to be up there fighting with them, if we're going to be on the back foot, if the car's going to be performing well, if I'm going to be performing well, and those you get an indication after about three laps on track of how your weekend's gonna pan out and it's always a really exciting moment, the unknown. I just can't wait to jump into that car again."

#george russell #f1 #formula 1 #australian gp 2024 #fic ref #fic ref 2024 #australia #australia 2024 #australia 2024 wednesday #not a race #2024 not a race #between saudi arabia and australia 2024 #fernando alonso #tw nico

[britney-rosberg06]

This is all about Mercedes basically. They want to focus on getting some experience in Kimi and then having him move to Mercedes. Basically doing what RB did with Max is what Toto wants to to do with Kimi and if that means getting rid of Logan that is showing zero promise in the long run then that’s what has to happen in the eyes of Toto. Toto doesn’t want to leave anything to chance. The F1 world is ruthless. You must be a new fan, get used to it that’s just how it is with F1 and I don’t doubt for a second Logan himself wasn’t aware of. He always knew he was half in and half out. It sucks for Logan and it’s crazy they want get ahold of Kimi when he’s soooo young, but the desperation Toto is feeling these days is really showing.

As I already explained, but i will go into more detail;

Toto Wolff and Mercedes AMG Petronas does not control Williams Racing. They are engine suppliers. They are not Merc’s Junior Team and they are currently rebuilding their brand to get out of that shadow. They have their own juniors they could replace Logan with, and given how those juniors have performed this season they just might.

It is bad business to accept Kimi, just to hold on to him for a year or so and send him up to Merc whenever Merc decide. It would leave them in a worse position in the eyes of the public and weaken the team as they all just basically wasted a year to help prepare a guy they don’t even get to keep.

As for Merc. If they are so scared of losing Kimi then they should sign him themselves. Merc and Toto are not over losing out on Max when he was younger he is willing to put a kid in the car early to keep losing Max from happening again.

The situation created by Lewis leaving early when he was supposed to go right up until after Kimi turns eighteen, means that whoever gets that Merc seat—if it’s not Kimi—is a seat warmer for a year. Waiting for Toto to deem Kimi “ready” for the car. But if Ollie Bearman, a year older and more experienced driver than Kimi, can’t handle the car then maybe Kimi should do another year in F2 and wait until he decides he’s ready.

And maybe they should stop signing literal teenagers to these contracts because they’re afraid to….what? Lose out on their talent? There is no reason, to keep signing teenagers when you could probably have them as better racers when they’re older and, idk, their brains are fully developed or something.

Again, i’m not saying Logan is going to remain in F1. Chances are pretty low, but to say that a seventeen year old who’s done 3 F2 races shows more promise than the who actually has the job right now is frankly ridiculous. Even in such a cruel sport.

Ruthlessness isn’t an excuse to risk damaging a teenagers mental and physical stability. As Susie Wolff once said:

#f1 #formula 1 #logan sargeant #kimi antonelli #toto wolff #susie wolff #mercedes f1 #williams racing #james vowles #andrea kimi antonelli

[chibrary]

ARTICLE: "Driver Profile: Charles Leclerc" (Formula Scout, 2015)

PaddockScout profiles Charles Leclerc, the young man from Monaco tearing up the FIA F3 European Championship with two wins from the first two rounds.

Monaco plays host to probably the most famous of any Formula 1 race each year but, perhaps unsurprisingly for a microstate of less than 40,000 people, it doesn’t have a history of producing its own successful Formula 1 drivers. Louis Chiron won his home race in 1931 but since his last participation in 1958 (the oldest ever F1 driver at 58), only Olivier Beretta in 1994 has represented Monaco in an F1 race. Clivio Piccione and Stefano Coletti have won in GP2 since then, but didn’t make it to the top level.

Charles Leclerc is only 17 but he is probably Monaco’s best chance yet of repeating Chiron’s home streets victory. A long-time protege of F1 driver manager Nicolas Todt, Leclerc was a star in karting and has had no trouble adapting to single-seaters, impressing in Formula Renault 2.0 last year and now taking up the mantle of being the star rookie in European F3. A winner on his debut at Silverstone, he added a second victory at Hockenheim last weekend and is just five points off the standings lead.

A quick history (so far)

Leclerc’s father Herve was a Formula 3 driver in the 1980s, and Charles began karting at the circuit owned by Philippe Bianchi, the father of Jules. Working his way up the ranks, Leclerc was French was French cadet champion in 2009 and the runner-up in KF3 and the Monaco Junior Kart Cup winner in 2010.

The following year, he claimed a CIK-FIA double, winning the Academy Trophy and the KF3 World Cup. Moving up to KF2 for 2012, Leclerc triumphed in the WSK Euro Series and took second in the European and U18 championships.

Together with Max Verstappen, Leclerc took part in the KZ gearbox classes for his final year in karting in 2013, winning the Winter Cup and finishing second to his Dutch rival in the world championship.

Leclerc entered Formula Renault 2.0 for his rookie single-season season, embarking on the Alps series for Fortec Motorsports. He quickly became a frontrunner, making the podium at round two at Pau and then twice again at Spa. At Monza he won both races, and followed that with more podiums to secure second place in the championship behind third-year FR2.0 racer Nyck de Vries.

Some of Leclerc’s most impressive performances last year came in Eurocup Formula Renault 2.0 as a guest entry. He took part in six races and finished second in the last three of those, up against lots of drivers with multiple years of experience in the series.

He could have made the full-time move to the Eurocup for 2015 but instead stepped up to Formula 3, and after testing for several different teams, signed with Van Amersfoort Racing. He would essentially replace Verstappen as team leader, working with the same engineer Rik Vernooij.

Leclerc was rapid in testing and demonstrated his pace on his debut weekend at Silverstone, scoring a double position and winning the final race of the weekend. At round two at Hockenheim he extended his podium streak to five consecutive races, and defeated F3 veteran Felix Rosenqvist in a battle for victory in the wet in race three.

Up next

Leclerc is just five points behind championship leader Antonio Giovinazzi, and so far he’s only raced on circuits he hadn’t competed at before. Next up on the calendar are Pau, Monza and Spa, and he tasted success at all of those last season. Therefore, it stands to reason that there’s yet more to come from Leclerc.

It’s a long season (there are 33 races) and plenty could happen between now and the F3 paddock returning to Hockenheim on the weekend of Leclerc’s 18 birthday in October. But based upon the first two rounds, there’s no reason to think of Leclerc as anything other than a serious title threat. Beating the more experienced Rosenqvist and Giovinazzi – driving for bigger teams in Prema and Carlin respectively – will take some doing, but he’s already given them a hard time. Anyway, his season’s hardly going to be a failure if he loses out and finishes up third as a rookie.

Talent and potential

Leclerc marked himself out as a real prospect in karting – so much so he topped our 2012 ‘karters to watch‘ feature, ahead of Verstappen. But it’s never a foregone conclusion that a successful karter will make a successful car racer. His debut season in FR2.0 was in some ways fairly low key with ‘only’ two wins, but the jump up from karting to continental FR2.0 is very rarely made to look easy by anybody. Leclerc ultimately finished as high up in the Alps standings as he could have been realistically expected to do so, given the presence of an on-form de Vries. It was actually up against tougher competition in the Eurocup that he really shone, with three consecutive P2s taking quite some doing in a series where nobody was particularly consistent.

Those performances suggested he would be capable of stepping up to F3, particularly as his old rival Verstappen had made it look easy and didn’t have the benefit of a year of car racing experience. And so he has proven to be. It’s still early days, but Leclerc has so far been the class of a large crop of rookies and taken the fight to proven F3 winners with multiple years of experience already under their belt.

His early performances are on a par with what last year’s star rookies Esteban Ocon and Verstappen were doing – in fact, his record of two wins and five podiums from the first six races replicates the 2014 champion’s start. If he keeps it up, he will deserve to be held in the same high esteem as them a few months down the line.

Off-track

No doubt assisted by the Bianchis’ tutelage, Leclerc signed with Todt Jr’s All Road Management firm in 2011. At present, Leclerc has no ties to F1 teams, but through his work with Felipe Massa, Pastor Maldonado and Bianchi, Todt has dealt with most of them and will be very well-placed to get his protege a role when the time comes.

A potential stumbling point is that most F1 teams are already overflowing with some serious sub-F1 prospects, but if he continues to impress as he’s doing at the moment, they could begin falling over each other to find a space for him.

Funding-wise, Leclerc benefits from partners usually tied to Todt’s projects, and watch maker Richard Mille (currently a sponsor of the Lotus F1 team) is his loyal main backer. And you’d imagine that being billed as a future F1 star from Monaco could well tempt some further future investment.

Verdict

In just his second season in single-seaters, Leclerc is quickly marking himself out as a star of the future with fine performances and two wins in his first couple of weekends in European F3, making him seriously stand out from a large and competitive grid.

While he’s got plenty in common with his old karting rival and Van Amersfoort F3 predecessor Verstappen, a lesser reputation and sensible management mean he’s unlikely to be making the jump straight up to F1 next year. He will therefore need to sustain this impressive form into an intermediate category like GP2 in order to make the grade.

But the signs are definitely there that Leclerc is one of the very top talents in the junior ranks right now, and that he’s capable of tasting success in F1 in the future.

His lifelong friend Bianchi was so sadly stopped in his tracks last year just when his F1 future was looking promising. In a few years’ time, Leclerc could just pick up where his mentor left off.

#year:2015 #series:europeanf3 #format:article

[dystini]

Indycar - Social Media

Who, what, where to follow.

Social Media

NTT INDYCAR SERIES YouTube - videos go back 15 years. Twitter Instagram TikTok

Team Penske (Josef Newgarden, Scott McLaughlin, Will Power) YouTube - a mix of all the series Penske runs in. Go look for the Penske Games - they're hilarious. Twitter Instagram TikTok

Andretti Autosport (Colton Herta, Kyle Kirkwood, Romain Grosjean, Devlin DeFrancesco, Marco Andretti) YouTube Twitter Instagram TikTok

Arrow McLaren IndyCar Team (Pato O’Ward, Alexander Rossi, Felix Rosenqvist, Tony Kanaan) By far the most active and on-trend of the Indycar teams. YouTube Twitter Instagram TikTok

Chip Ganassi Racing (Scott Dixon, Marcus Ericsson, Alex Palou, Marcus Armstrong, Takuma Sato) YouTube Twitter Instagram TikTok

Rahal Letterman Lanigan Racing (Graham Rahal, Christian Lundgaard, Jack Harvey, Katherine Legge) YouTube Twitter Instagram TikTok

Juncos Hollinger Racing (Callum Ilott, Agustin Canapino) YouTube Twitter Instagram TikTok

Ed Carpenter Racing (Rinus Veekay, Ryan Hunter Reay, Ed Carpenter) YouTube N/A Twitter Instagram TikTok N/A

Dale Coyne Racing (David Malukas, Sting Ray Robb) YouTube N/A Twitter Instagram TikTok N/A

AJ Foyt Racing (Santino Ferucci, Benjamin Perdersen) YouTube N/A Twitter Instagram TikTok N/A

Meyer Shank Racing (Helio Castroneves, Simon Pagenaud) YouTube N/A Twitter Instagram TikTok N/A

Indianapolis Motor Speedway YouTube Twitter Instagram TikTok

Indy NXT (Indycar Junior series) YouTube Twitter Instagram TikTok

Media/other

RACER YouTube Twitter Instagram TikTok N/A

Marshall Pruett YouTube Twitter Instagram TikTok N/A

INDYCAR on NBC YouTube Twitter Instagram TikTok

Nathan Brown (IndyStar) YouTube N/A Twitter Instagram N/A TikTok N/A

Dalton Kellett (former driver) YouTube Twitter Instagram TikTok (tech explanations)

Speed You Later YouTube N/A Twitter Instagram TikTok N/A

TikTok

Misc Caterina Masetti Zannini (Callum Ilott's girlfriend) Behind the scenes and Indycar tech explained, some F1 content. James and Becky Hinchcliffe (hasn't been updated in some time) Honda Performance Development - features all series that use honda engines so you'l have to search for the Indycar stuff.

Drivers Pato O’Ward Conor Daly Callum Ilott Christian Lundgaard Alex Palou

Instagram

Misc PitFit (The gym a lot of drivers use)

Podcasts

Racer's Roots - A deep dive into the history of motorsports and the genealogy of the racers we know and love.

The B1tch Stop is a podcast about motorsport hosted by Charlotte, Almay and Steph: an exasperated sports fan who'd make a better team principle than half the paddock, someone that reads about the aerodynamics of cars for fun, and a woman with a lot of opinions and no driver's licence. Follow for biweekly breakdowns of major race series (including F1, 2 and 3, Formula E, W Series, F1 Academy and IndyCar), the judgement of professional drivers based on their birth chart, and very valid and correct opinions about which drivers would catfish each other.

The Race IndyCar Podcast Race reviews and analysis from the fastest circuit racing in the world. Jack Benyon hosts, ex-Indycar racer JR Hildebrand adds expert knowledge, while a host of special guests bring colour and insight. Join us for the ride!

The Week In IndyCar The Week In Indy Car features one or more guests to weave through the latest news in North America's premier open-wheel series and its related junior formula. Like The Week In Sports Cars show, it's an interactive affair driven by listener questions submitted via social media.

Motorsport101 - covers F1, MotoGP and FE as well as IndyCar

Did I miss anything? Have a podcast to recommend? Send me a message.

#indycar #indycar rpf #fanfic #driver lore

[sargeantposting]

ARTICLE: Meet America's Next F1 Hope, Logan Sargeant (Autoweek, 2020)

source: matt weaver, autoweek.com published: february 1st, 2020 series: f3, 2020

He doesn’t view himself as anything more than a racer trying to win races and championships, but Logan Sargeant inherently represents more than himself, as he is also the current best chance the United States has to return an American full time to the Formula 1 grid.

For American racing enthusiasts, the Sargeant name might sound familiar, as the 19-year-old is the younger brother of former NASCAR prospect Dalton Sargeant, who spent several seasons in the ARCA and Truck Series system.

Meanwhile, the youngest racing Sargeant has done nothing but win since moving to Switzerland as a 12-year-old to chase a career at the highest level of international motorsports. Sargeant won the Karting Federation Junior championship in 2015, becoming the first American to win an FIA karting championship since 1978, when Lake Speed earned the honors.

He has victories in the F4 British Championship and Formula Renault.

Sargeant suffered his first significant career setback in 2019, finishing 19th in the FIA Formula 3 European Championship with Carlin, with just one podium, albeit in the nonpoints prestigious Macau Grand Prix.

There were valid reasons for the adversity, of course, as 2019 was the first season with a new chassis and rules package that allowed for adjustable downforce during practice but one fixed amount during a race.

With three first-year Formula 3 drivers on its roster, Carlin struggled to develop the chassis, and each of them finished outside of the top 15 in the standings.

It was uncharacteristic of Sargeant, who had adapted to everything he had driven up to that point, which makes 2020 all the more interesting as it comes with a return tour of Formula 3, albeit with a change to the championship-winning Prema Racing Team organization.

If Sargeant simply repeats what the three Prema drivers accomplished last year, sweeping the championship’s podium, an American will likely be one step below the highest level of international motorsports in 2021 for the first time since Alexander Rossi made five Formula 1 starts with Marussia.

Get to know Sargeant—an avid fisherman who enjoys returning to his Boca Raton, Florida, home as much as he is able—in this Autoweek exclusive below.

Autoweek: Let's start on the performance side—what went wrong in 2019?

Logan Sargeant: In hindsight, Carlin has had a lot of success over the years, but we really struggled with the new car. We had three rookies on the same team, inexperienced drivers who couldn't lead us in the right direction. A tenth or two makes such a difference. I understand the situation. I'm not saying I wasn't responsible to a degree either. I wasn't satisfied with myself. I have an obligation to help develop the car as much as possible, and we just couldn't figure it out for most of the year.

AW: Do you view last year as a setback or are you still on schedule?

LS: To be perfectly honest with you, I actually feel like we're still ahead of schedule. I just turned 19. We did really well in Formula Renault and made the jump to Formula 3 and now I'm in a really good spot to be with the team (Prema) that won the championship last year.

AW: What's it like to be an American in the F1 ladder system?

LS: I moved to Switzerland when I was 12 and went to a school for Americans so I got used to everything from an early age. Then I moved to London. When you move at such an early age, it's shocking how different everything is, but it's easier to adjust to, as well. I try to go home at least twice a year for a couple of weeks, so that helps. As for the racing side, there is so much quality racing back home between NASCAR, IndyCar and IMSA, and that's the only reason there aren't more of us trying. There is a really good racing culture in the States, so that's the only reason we don't see it more often.

AW: I understand you have a dog back home—how tough is it to have to leave a beloved pet when you return to London? The same thing with friends and family?

LS: It's really tough, especially when you're really attached to a pet, like a dog or cat. She used to live with us in Switzerland, but we had to take her back home because she was getting older. It's the same with your friends, right? I have friends in Europe, but they're all my racing friends. They're really nice to have, but you miss your friends you have back home. It's part of the sacrifice you make to do this.

AW: On that note, you've been in Europe now for almost a decade—does it feel like home when you come back from Florida?

LS: Oh, no. Florida is home. I really enjoy it in London. I came early so I've adjusted, but you only have one home.

AW: Do you allow yourself to entertain racing in the States or do you commit everything to what you're doing now?

LS: I'm fully committed to Formula 1, but I wouldn't have a problem if I ended up with the opportunity to race in IndyCar someday. That would be really exciting. I really enjoy sports car racing, too. It would be really cool to hop into a LMP2 or something one day. I want to race and I'll race anything.

AW: How much American racing are you able to keep up with?

LS: I watch as much racing as I can, period. It's tougher to watch certain races here because of the time difference, but I watch nothing but racing. That's the sport I'm in so I'm studying everything.

AW: Is this a championship-or-bust season for you?

LS: I'd say, to be honest, that I'm aiming for the championship. The goal is to win races and compete for the championship. Last year was tough because I'm so used to being at the front of the team. I'm aware of what Prema did last year. That's what I hope to accomplish, too.

#logan sargeant #year:2020

[blorbocedes]

Wait I've never heard you talk about valtteri. I want to hear everything you think about him as a person, as a nature free guy, in the brocedes aftermath and maybe as a driver

I love that you've been keeping track?? 😭 I'm wondering if you're like a valtteri stan...... do people care what I think about drivers ahaha

It's true I don't talk about him much but I actually like valtteri a lot. so here's my bottas 🍑 thoughts

replacing a World Champion in 2016 is no easy feat, especially constantly being measured up against lewis. he came into Merc as a young(er than lewis -- in his mid twenties) driver in a championship winning car, obviously he was gonna have WC hopes, esp when Nico already achieved it. Look at Max, he wasn't even a WC but the best driver in his team and he ran through at least 3 teammates who couldn't measure up to him and their own dreams at becoming wc in the same car -- until they landed on Checo, who understands his role as second driver well and after a decade in f1 he's just grateful for the seat in the best car.

There's a reason HAM BOT VET/VER was a meme for Years and that speaks to Valtteri's consistency aa a driver. i think bc merc saw what happened with Nico and Lewis, they decided no more team fighting and we get the 'hi valtteri it's james' team orders here's a 3 minute compilation of it happening and you can hear James going 'I'm sorry' which is truly... you can't help but feel for it. But Valtteri was nothing but a team player and collected his second place in the WDC

ppl assume ah he's Finnish so he must be cold but that's not true, I personally find him very warm and tends to his own business. I think my favourite reaction of his was after the GR collision where GR came to flip him off (George's only interesting moment when his mask slipped) and Valtteri on DTS going, I thought he was going to check if I was alright (smile) -- like he saw George's cunt era!!! we get it

There's also a lot of racers who don't have hobbies outside of racing, but Valtteri seems so much more rounded as a person? i love that he loves Proper coffee even tho lewis wouldn't touch it... his bucket hats, he goes hiking with his cycling gf, he even won!! a cycling event during summer break and he supports her in her hobbies/career. here's him being a wag. he also has the opposite vibes of lando norris, aka he looks like he knows how to eat pussy. just has the vibes of a good lay.

If anything, posting a tasteful ass nude and then giving it framed to lewis is iconic??? love the Scandinavian lack of shame, and that his DTS scenes are ass out him on a sauna. highly respect.

One underrated thing I really like his relationship with Zhou Guanyu. older experienced teammate - younger junior with everything to prove can always be tricky; you can get anywhere from raging competition to complete indifference but it really does seem like ZG likes him, looks at him like a mentor and that's sick <3

MasterEyebrow had a LOT to do with my opinion on Valtteri, they changed it from who? to that guy :) ! and if you know, you know

Tldr: Valtteri seems like a cool dude, is driving his little heart out in that Alfa Romeo and is cool with posting nudes on main. Top notch.

Also he should never ever shave that beard does excellency for him

#valtteri bottas #yes this includes bottas ass gifs #blorbocedes ask #me: this is a driver I don't talk about also me: okay here's an essay about him