Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 73568 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73568 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
The skies are dark and overcast and it’s downright cold. The threat of rain feels like it’s seeping into my bones. As a born and raised Southerner, I don’t take well to the cold and today I bundled up in my big puffer coat with a hat, mittens and a scarf.
Yes, I know it’s only forty-six degrees Fahrenheit—or eight degrees Celsius, as my car temperature registered—but that’s frigid to me.
The massive glass and steel building looks even more imposing with the dark clouds swirling above. I hurry into the lobby to find Lex is already there, looking every bit the impatient driver. Of course, I can’t help but notice how unbelievably gorgeous he is, especially with a few days’ stubble and his hair tousled like he just rolled out of bed. He’s dressed in clothes that scream luxury and yet effortless style—a tailored wool overcoat in charcoal gray, a cashmere crewneck sweater in a lighter gray and black slim-fit jeans. The Chelsea boots in black leather complete the ensemble and I feel dowdy and unsophisticated in my forest-green parka with faded jeans and a fuzzy baby pink sweater underneath, although I take some level of pride in my silver sparkle tennis shoes because they make me smile.
“You’re late,” he says drolly, though there’s a hint of amusement in his voice.
“Am I?” I stammer, feeling slightly intimidated by the confident race car driver standing before me and not the drunken fool I saw last night. “I thought I was right on time.”
He starts walking, and I scurry to keep up, mentally kicking myself for being a bit frazzled. “Close enough,” he says with a smile. “We’ve got a meeting with the engineers in five minutes so I hope you have lots of questions ready.”
My head is already buzzing with a thousand things I’d like to ask, but I don’t want to sound like a complete idiot. “So, um… can I ask a few questions before we go in?” I venture cautiously.
Lex raises an eyebrow but doesn’t stop walking. “Go on.”
“What does ‘formula’ even mean? Like in Formula International?”
He does a double take, as if he can’t believe I’d ask such a thing. “You don’t know?”
“Well, I have a rough idea, but I want to make sure I get it right.” I cringe, hoping I don’t sound as clueless as I feel. While I know a lot about the drivers and teams from watching the documentary, there are still so many small details I’m light on.
“All right,” he says, slowing his pace enough to explain. “It refers to the set of rules that all teams must follow. In other words, the formula. Everything from the car’s design to the engines to the amount of fuel we can use during a race is regulated by the governing body—so all the teams are competing on a level playing field.”
I nod, furiously scribbling in my notepad as we walk, hoping I don’t trip and fall on my face. “So, the cars aren’t all that different?”
“They’re different in some ways, but the differences are within strict limits. Aerodynamics, engine performance, tire management—those are the key areas where teams try to gain an edge, but we all work within the same formula.”
“Got it,” I say, but more questions spin from this initial information. “And how did you get into all this? I read that a lot of drivers start in karting but I’m not sure what that means.”
Lex nods, seeming a bit more relaxed now. “Yeah, I began in karting when I was five. It’s where you start if you want to be an FI driver—learning the basics, developing race craft, getting a feel for the speed.”
“And… it’s just a go-kart you drive around a track?” I ask, scribbling notes.
Eyes twinkling, he says, “It’s definitely a kart you drive around a track, but they’re a lot faster than what you Yanks typically think of. They’re designed for racing, not for Sunday picnics in the park.”
“Noted,” I mutter, writing down that exact line.
“From karting, I did a brief stint in the Crown Velocity driver’s academy before moving into Formula International 3, or FI3. That’s a development series and the first level of professional single-seater, open-wheel design racing. That’s where—”
“Wait… hold up,” I say, stopping in place to continue jotting notes. I glance up at him. “What do you mean single-seater, open wheel?”
To his credit, Lex doesn’t roll his eyes or make me feel stupid. “Open wheel just means the wheels aren’t enclosed by bodywork the way they are in, say, stock car racing.”
“And that’s important to the sport because…”
“Because coupled with the single-seat design, it centers the central cockpit around the driver for maximum aerodynamic efficiency, which is something you’ll learn more about in the meeting we’re headed to. These cars rely on aerodynamics to generate downforce, which keeps the cars stable at high speeds.”