Debutant. Chapter 12. Scarier than a fairy tale. Part 1

This novel is fictional; there is no need to look for intersections with historical events. This is a continuation of “Debutant” by Nikita Savelyev, the first readers of which were readers of F1News.ru…

Chapter 12. Scarier than a fairy tale. Part One

Excerpt from Charlie Rodwell’s interview with the French newspaper Society:
“- Monsieur Rodwell, what is the secret of your team’s success, in the 1950s it was located in a woodshed, and now a quarter of all drivers race on your chassis? The success came to you at the same time as the regulatory change, didn’t it?

– You know, it was quite comfortable in the barn; journalists didn’t bother me there. But seriously, when the engine size decreased, I thought how important the power is for us: can we compensate for the lost seconds on long stretches by gaining time in corners. And everything worked out. Although our externally purchased engines were inferior to Monetti in horsepower, we surpassed them in other respects.

– They say that all this pales in comparison to the effect you achieved by reducing the frontal area of ​​the car. Now the racers drive the car lying down. You have made a real revolution in aerodynamics.

“If it were up to me, I would have set them even lower, but after more than two hours of racing, the pilots started experiencing severe pain in their neck muscles, so I even had to raise the seat a little.”

– Rivals are gradually adopting your single chassis design, which has replaced traditional welded-together aluminum frames. What are you going to do for your riders in the future?

– It is no secret that this year we are using the engine as a load-bearing element of the chassis, which allows us to significantly save the weight of the vehicle and position the fuel tanks more rationally. Feel free to write about it, while competitors try to copy our ideas, we come up with something new.

– They say that Crocus cars are not reliable and the team’s pilots often have accidents due to equipment errors?

– Lies and inventions. Technical problems happen to everyone, look at other teams.

– Have you ever experienced the death of your pilot, do you feel responsible for what happened?

– Every racer knows that motor racing is a deadly activity. Two years ago, our racer Karl was hit in the face by a bird at high speed, lost control and crashed. This is a tragic accident; Unfortunately, no one is safe from it yet.”

An endless, bumpy asphalt ribbon snaked past the horizon, cutting through the mighty green crowns. Just a few meters from the edge of the road, thousands of mighty, spreading trunks with intertwining branches rushed past. Dense, impassable shrubbery alternated between silent, sparse groves and vast, desolate clearings of tall grass. And above all low, low, a threatening thick blue endless sky with vague clouds. I feel like I have landed in a forest from medieval fairy tales, but not a friendly forest with cute gnomes and funny birds, but a gloomy and gothic forest, where animals are afraid to raise their voices again, and giants, witches and evil spirits hide in the dense depths and are eager to feast on an unwary traveler. It must be an amazing sight, and a reason to think about the greatness of nature over a small person. If you’re a slacker naturalist. Racers have several concerns.

Henry gritted his teeth and drove as fast as he could. The incredibly long distance forgives small spots on the circle, but is merciless for big mistakes – powerful, immense deadly pines flaunt on both sides of the road and are ready to accept an unwary victim with pleasure, and endless sharp turns don’t let you relax even for a second. The circuit is full of sharp climbs and steep descents, where the car briefly lifts all four wheels off the ground. The feeling is incredible: your soul sinks into your heels, no matter how much you sway. A racing car is not designed to fly. It will take off, but no one makes any guarantees when it will land. First suspension.

During the first few laps around the gigantic circuit, the pack stretched out: the cars spread out across the forest road like a swarm of rodents. Somewhere down the road there is a struggle for leadership positions. After another first place at the start, Sam Murphy tries to increase the lead, Carlo Rinaldo, who has skated his training in a hurry, desperately fights his way from seventh starting position, Jean-Luc Dubois holds off his rivals, waiting for his partner Peter Bridge battles fate and shows that he too can win, and Michael Stanton tries to prove how racers can be good designers.

It’s also fun afterwards. Over the past few races, Henry had gotten used to the car, adapted to the circuits, and now felt the power to impose a fight on the drivers and private teams in the back rows, who sincerely believed that thanks to the chassis of someone otherwise they could impose a fight. to accomplish. They can do something. For example, Henry read from the carefully placed board: he was in an honorable thirteenth place. Even the top six is ​​unusually far away.

Before the start, sleep-deprived, but inspired by the unexpected victory (what else to call it?!) at the bedside, Henry was overcome with thoughts somewhat distant from the upcoming race. What if you simply buy a spot on a decent team? Most owners are desperate for financing. It’s unlikely they’ll refuse to offer a third car in exchange for rustling bills. The question is: where does the money come from? Beautiful Sandra of course. Doesn’t she have a few thousand pounds? After several nights together, summarizing the conversation well, women relax in bed and soothe their souls. And then Henry was filled with self-loathing – sure, he’s an unscrupulous bastard, but not that bad? Probably not that much. For now we will stick to the original plan. In this case it would be nice to at least show some decent results to get an item to bargain with Monetti.

As you know, thanks to the all-knowing Georges, the circuit was designed in the 1920s based on the capabilities of cars of that time: low power, weak brakes and unreliable tires. Therefore, there are many “running” turns at a distance, where deep braking is not required, but requires an elusive sense of balance and serious courage. Or slow down considerably if you’re worried about your butt. Everything in your hands.

No one in front or behind. Even the spectators disappeared somewhere. There seems to be a deafening silence everywhere, and the only thing that breaks this silence is the roar of the engine. It feels like everyone else really was devoured by a fairytale giant, and Henry was left all alone.

There is no time to indulge in poetic metaphors and other hyperbole; a very dangerous turn is approaching. Georges said he is constantly in the shade of the canopy that hangs over the highway, so he is the last to dry out after rain and the first to become covered in ice when it freezes. The asphalt is uneven and the curbs are covered in bumps; counting the bones here is a piece of cake. Crazy. You can exhale. Until the next turn. What surprise awaits there?

A lot of good news: everyone in the stadium is still the same, people have not disappeared anywhere, and besides, Henry has moved up to twelfth position. It is unclear where either rival went. His problems. Let’s continue! The goal is to reach the finish line; it is not a fact that many pilots will succeed. This means that there is always a chance to get points.

As the race progresses, the racer changes speed several times. Several times per turn. How many are there in total? The same. Very difficult. My arms are trying to go limp, and it’s only halfway through the race. In addition, you must be careful not to make mistakes in the choice of gear, without over-revving the engine. Beware: the car is about to fly up! Uff. Landed safely. It seems he will never get used to these flights.

Again the bushes, again the dusk, and again Henry was left all alone. Not for long: an opponent appeared at a considerable distance. It’s even more fun together. Let’s try to estimate the gap. He did something… Suddenly the dark green car skidded sharply, spun like a crazy top, the driver could not stay on the track, flew to the side of the road, suddenly jumped into the air, as if standing on a springboard (there there’s a drain pipe here!), and disappeared from view. What a serious accident! My foot automatically hit the brake pedal. What’s there…

Yours! Henry himself suddenly lost traction on the front wheels, the car immediately went out of control, he turned the steering wheel with force, but the situation had already gotten out of hand. Fortunately, Henry managed to slow down beforehand, the car spun mercilessly, shook painfully, and braking was difficult. His vision was dark, but he seemed fine. The car is standing on the side of the road, with the nose in the direction of travel, the engine has not stalled, your feet are on the pedals – your instinct has not failed you, you can continue. Nearby, the engines of other cars strained as they saw the accident, slowed down and safely crossed the dangerous spot.

Stop chilling – it’s time to go, the shoulder is flat at this point – Henry can get out easily. The hum of the engine again: another car. It’s better to miss than to fly straight into her side. For some reason the orange car pulled off the road very carefully. Her business. Now give it a lot of gas and Henry can get back on the road.

But for some reason the pilot got out of the car and shouted something too. Henry thought about turning around. Well… The first car, as it turns out, not only flew away, but crashed into a tree, and so in vain that the front wheels and completely shattered nose ended up right in the trunk. And the racer is still inside. Why isn’t he moving?! He is injured and can’t get out on his own. Henry finally gets it! The pilot of the orange car raced to the tree as fast as he could. Do you rush to the rescue or get back into the race as soon as possible? A moment of hesitation and Henry jumped out of the car. A few more seconds and he’s close to the collision site.

Henry quickly examined the damaged car: the driver – the rugged Jeffrey Spencer – was conscious, but clearly in shock, no blood was visible.

-Can you get out? – Michael Stanton croaked in a broken voice. That’s the one who stopped!

Jeffrey didn’t answer. The head lies to the side, the wide-open pupils under the glasses look thoughtlessly at Michael.

== To be continued…