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A/N – This is yet another story in this category that is part of a series or a story. I’ll get around to writing a story for this category one day in the future that isn’t part of something else!
Australian / British standard English. There is a good chance of reading the following: lots of profanity, characters drinking, typos, and bad grammar at times.
Proofreading and editing suggestions provided by OhDave1. Any mistakes are still mine.
Comments are appreciated as always.
Feedback by email is always welcome. Enjoy chatting with anyone who likes my work.
*****
Returning from injury, will he find his form again?
*****
Physical therapy sucked. But considering that I was waking up every morning thankful that I was still alive, I put the negative thoughts to the side and focused on building up my strength again.
I’d seen more than one replay of my accident since it happened. The driver that had punted me off had become a villain in the eyes of many supporters of Minardi and Formula One in general. His backmarker team didn’t offer him a new contract for the new season despite the sponsorship he had. His accident with me was the last in a litany of incidents he had been involved in.
As for the accident itself, I’d been lucky to survive in many ways. I’d been sent flying off the track at 130R by another car. My car slammed into the tyre barrier and barrel rolled three times, bits of the car flying off. By the time it came to rest, the survival cell I sat in was still intact, but all four corners had been torn off. And I was unconscious.
Upon returning to Italy, Mum flew over from the United Kingdom to help with my recovery. And what I didn’t miss during the next few weeks was the distance Anja was putting between us. I knew what she was doing. I knew she worried about me every time I set foot in my car, but it was the worst accident of my career and the first time that I’d been injured.
Since returning home, Anja had been sleeping in her own bedroom. Part of the reason would be due to me needing to sleep comfortably which isn’t easy with a broken leg. She was by my side during every therapy session, and I was still able to do work on my upper body. But the closeness that we’d shared during most of the last year was gone.
Anja was honest about it. She had watched the accident live. She’d genuinely thought I was dead when the car came to a halt and I wasn’t moving. After a couple of weeks in hospital in Japan, Anja was by my side while Mum flew in from London the next day, it was when we returned to Italy that Anja told me that she felt we were getting far too close and that she simply couldn’t fall in love with me then watch me die on the track.
“We can continue to have a little fun during the season,” she told me, “I won’t cut everything out between us. But we were becoming romantically involved. I simply can’t do it, Mark.”
“Do you want to keep working for me?” I had to ask.
She sat on the edge of the bed and smiled. “I’m not going anywhere, Mark. And that’s because I believe in you. I want to be by your side when you become world champion. And we can still have fun from time to time. But what happened… I now understand how Adriana felt and why she, you know, couldn’t remain in a relationship with you.”
To be fair, she kept her word in a certain way. She might not be sleeping in my bed any longer, but one way to keep me motivated was with sex. Blowjobs were still common, and although sex was somewhat difficult, I had no problem lying back while Anja happily rode me until we enjoyed an orgasm or two together. She always got up and returned to her bedroom to sleep.
Mum was aware of our relationship. She spoke to Anja often and knew about Anja’s decision regarding our working and private relationship. Mum sat me down a couple of times and suggested that I make sure to have a little fun. I’d received more than one phone number over the past couple of years from women who were interested in me. A couple of girls who had been grid girls. Women I’d met at team events. Some were my age if not a little younger. I had quite a few numbers from women who were definitely older than me by a decade and more.
By the time of the South African Grand Prix, I was completely healed though I knew that I wasn’t as physically fit as I should be. Mum usually gave the races outside of Europe a miss except for Australia due to the travel, but she flew with Anja, me and the team to South Africa. She told me that she wasn’t going to miss a single race for at least the next few years. I think the accident shook her up more than she’d admit. But I liked having Mum around, and I knew Anja liked the company as well.
I’d only done a couple of days of testing, most of the work falling on the shoulders of Pierluigi and our test driver, Luca Badoer. Giancarlo told me to take my time recuperating as Badoer was more than capable of stepping up for a race or two. But I was Escort determined not to miss a race as I knew Aldo had designed another cracking car, and Lamborghini continued to develop the engine. Power had always been fantastic, now it was reliability.
Monza last year still lingered in the memory. A first win had been in touching distance…
There were no nerves during the first practice session. I put what happened in Japan out of my mind. I knew Mum and Anja were both nervous as I was preparing in the motorhome. I took the first couple of laps at a steady pace as I still wasn’t completely comfortable with the car. But once the tyres were warm and everything felt right, I put in my first flying lap of the season. By the end of the first practice, both Minardi’s were in the top ten.
Qualifying a few hours later would be the real test of how good our car was. All the big teams arrived with new cars each year. The smaller teams would sometimes arrive at the first few races with updated cars from the previous year, debuting their new car at the start of the European swing. As usual, Ferrari, Lotus, McLaren, Renault and Williams were at the top of the time sheets. Ligier, Tyrrell, BRM and Brabham were nipping at their heels. The rest were fighting to make it onto the grid with the usual backmarker teams.
At the end of qualifying on Saturday, the grid had a somewhat usual feel with the likes of Clark, Senna and Villeneuve near the top. But Minardi… We certainly threw down a marker as I put my car fifth on the grid with Pierluigi behind me in ninth. To say my mechanics went wild with delight at the end of qualifying… You would have thought I’d qualified on pole!
Lining up on the grid the next day, I stepped out of the cockpit as we still had ten minutes to go. I held a last-minute debrief with Gabriele, going over the various options we had available regarding pitstops. It was the usual case of the turbo cars being faster but thirsty regarding fuel. Kyalami could also be tough on tyres.
“Bring the car home in the points if possible,” Giancarlo told me before I put on my helmet, “The fact you’re back and driving is a win in itself, Marco.”
“I’m worried about my fitness,” I admitted, “I have a feeling that I’m going to be knackered by the halfway point.”
“Marco, if you are exhausted and you think it’s dangerous, tell Gabriele and I will authorise you to come in. We don’t want you having a big accident,” Giancarlo said.
“I won’t push myself beyond the limit,” I assured him and Gabriele.
The green light was a couple of minutes later and it was ‘Go! Go! Go!’ in the words of Murray Walker. I made a great start and nipped past Rosberg’s Williams into the first turn to take fourth place. Within a couple of laps, I was in the groove and settled in for a long first stint. I kept the cars in front within sight and managed to put a bit of space between me and the cars behind.
The laps ticked off until I was told that cars were starting to pit. It was still the team’s Achilles heel. The chassis was getting better. The engine was more powerful and increasingly reliable. But our pitstops were still a problem. After the lone pitstop of the race, putting on a set of harder tyres that would see me through to the end, I exited the pits in sixth place.
Within a few laps, I was on the tail of Laffite in fifth place. His Ligier-Matra was another V12 engine, but the strides Lamborghini had been making recently meant that our engine was only down on power to the Ferrari, and by barely a few horsepower. It was considered that our engine was more powerful than the other V12s, Matra, Maserati and the Weslake in the back of the Eagle.
The best place to pass at Kyalami is by getting a good slipstream out of Leeukop, keeping on the tail of the car in front through the Kink then pass just before the braking point into Crowthorne. Laffite did his best to fight me off, but he finally stayed to the left upon approaching the first corner and I slipped by into fifth.
There had already been numerous retirements in the race, leaving my next target as Jochen Rindt in the Cooper-Maserati. Another V12 engine, but the young Austrian was clearly struggling as I caught him at a second a lap. In fifth after passing Laffite, I was on Rindt’s tail, and a missed shift through the Jukskei Sweep allowed me to nip past him through Sunset.
I was now in fourth with around a third of the race to go. I felt exhausted already. I was now running on pure adrenaline and a desire to finish as high as possible. With ten laps to go, I was still in fourth though closing on third place at a rapid rate of tenths per lap. Gerhard Berger in the Benetton-BMW V6T hadn’t made a pitstop, using a variety of different tyre compounds to help him make positions as everyone else pitted, and the Benetton was known for having a large fuel tank so they didn’t always stop for fuel.
“How are you doing, Marco?” Gabriele asked.
“I’m Bayan Escort fine. Gap to Gerhard?”
“Five seconds. Seven laps to go.”
“Go and get him, Marco. A podium on your return would be magnifico!” Giancarlo added.
What we all knew was that the BMW was notoriously unreliable. Brabham ran the same engine and their drivers would either podium or retire at most races. The BMW in the Benetton was last year’s engine, usually detuned for reliability though therefore not as powerful. And the engines still had the habit of blowing up anyway.
Four laps to go and I was only a couple of seconds behind. By the end of that lap, I was almost on his tail. As I watched him during that lap, I could see he was definitely struggling with grip. On the penultimate lap, I followed him through the first couple of corners, through Jukskie Sweep and was ready to break for Sunset. And that’s where he made a mistake, out-braking himself and sliding off the track into the dirt. I was through into third.
Crossing the finish line at the end of the final lap, I swept over towards the pit lane as the team were hanging out over the pit wall. To be honest, I’d only finished third, but it felt like a victory. As I slowed down for the cool-down lap, I was still surviving on adrenaline, and the agony only hit me as I pulled the car to a halt in Parc Ferme.
As I greeted my mechanics, I practically collapsed against the barrier having hobbled towards them. I managed to get myself up on the podium, managing to lift up my trophy when it was presented to me before there was the spraying of champagne. After the official press conference, which was usually rather dull, I walked out to the media pen to chat with other journalists.
The Sky Sports UK reporter was always friendly. Helped she was rather attractive as well. She was smiling as I hobbled towards her. “Mark, how are you feeling?”
“I need a nap.”
That earned some chuckles before she asked, “Third place in your first race back after your horrific accident in Japan last year. You made some good passes. Did you ever think that you might not be here again?”
I pondered the question for a couple of seconds. “I guess when I was laid up in hospital there were moments of doubt. I don’t care who you are, when you’re in such an accident, doubts do crop up in your mind. Having to watch the Australian Grand Prix from back home in Italy wasn’t a lot of fun either. But to be honest, once I was out of hospital, even when hobbling around on crutches, I was determined to get back onto the grid. I’m still lacking fitness. I’m fairly sure the adrenaline has run out and I’m going to crash soon. And the agony will really hit me.”
“Well, it was a fantastic drive, and everyone is delighted to see you back on the grid, Mark. Go off and celebrate with your team.”
“I’ll probably do that after my nap!”
The first thing I received was a massage from Anja once I was back at the hotel. She then kissed my cheek and let me sleep for an hour. I woke up and dressed before heading downstairs to join Anja and Mum for dinner, a few of the mechanics were already back at the hotel along with Giancarlo. He was absolutely delighted with my third place, and was already talking about the rest of the season and what might be possible.
After a quick stop back in Italy where I continued my recuperation and rebuilding my fitness, we flew out to the Americas for the next three races. Argentina wasn’t as successful as South Africa, but I still managed to finish in the points in fifth. Brazil at Interlagos finished with a retirement due to a gearbox failure. Mexico saw another points finish though only sixth for one point.
The first race back in Spain was at Montjuich Park. Slight improvements had been made to safety though it was still an incredibly dangerous track. A couple of drivers even talked of a boycott in the lead-up to the race, but although there was agreement that further improvements should be made before we arrived again in a couple of years’ time.
Every driver took their position on the grid after qualifying. Being a tight street circuit, the nimble V8 engine cars had dominated qualifying. The Minardi I drove had proven to be quite a decent chassis as I still managed to qualify in the top ten. The turbos were competitive but not as dominant as usual.
Unfortunately, the race was littered with accidents as always, the undulating and bumpy nature of the track proving to be a real car breaker and test of endurance. Thankfully, the weather remained dry. I hadn’t driven Montjuic in the dry but had been told that it was terrifying. Not as bad as the Nurburgring, but that could be terrifying when the sun was shining brightly. To be honest, when I retired with a blown engine with twenty laps to go, I wasn’t particularly unhappy.
Returning to Italy to continue my fitness regime, I was feeling better after each race. I wasn’t limping around any longer, Escort Bayan and I could feel the progress being made regarding my strength, particularly at my core. Anja continued to be my cheerleader, and Mum had loved travelling with us to the Americas for the three races there.
And then came Imola…
*****
I enjoyed turning up at the circuit on Thursday and Friday as the hardcore fans were always out and about, hoping to shake my hand, get an autograph or even a selfie. I had no problem meeting and greeting fans before the start of the day. Like most drivers, once I was in the zone, I didn’t particularly want to be bothered, but I tried to arrive at the track nice and relaxed.
There were always barriers to keep the crowds back, glad that they were not kept behind wire mesh fences and other such things. I enjoyed stopping to chat with people and it made taking selfies for the fans much easier. I was busy signing an autograph when I noticed a rather gorgeous young woman standing a couple of paces away. Know that moment when your eyes meet with someone and you share something unspoken? I felt it then.
Making my way towards her, she smiled to reveal two rows of almost perfect teeth. “Selfie or photograph?” I asked in Italian. Fans came from all over the world though I always spoke Italian when I was in Italy.
“Both?” she asked in reply.
I took a selfie first and she had a few people laughing when she left a kiss on my cheek. Anja was laughing away nearby as I turned to sign the shirt she was wearing. It was a white shirt in the colours of our sponsor, Martini. “So you’re a fan?”
“Definitely. I was on the internet every day looking for news after your crash in Japan. Are you okay now?”
“Absolutely fine. Thanks for asking.” She blushed slightly and I had to ask, “Are you here every day?”
“I am.”
I looked around to see Gabriele standing nearby. He seemed to know what I was going to ask. I’d never done it before, but he immediately nodded and started to laugh as he made a phone call. Turning back to the young woman, I asked, “What’s your name?”
“Sophia.”
“Want to come into the paddock?”
I think she almost burst into tears before she hugged me tightly around the neck. “Oh my god! Are you serious?”
“Sure. Come on in.”
A couple of guards opened a gap in the barrier for Sophia to walk through, taking her hand and leading her towards the gates into the paddock. Anja was walking to my other side, meeting her eyes, thankful to see her smiling. Sophia could barely contain her excitement as we made our way to the motorhome, Giancarlo walking out to greet me and my companions.
Most of the big teams had motorhomes that provided dining and places for sponsors, guests, friends and family. Giancarlo gave me a simple look before leading us into the small dining area of the motorhome. Minardi’s was nothing compared to the size of the larger teams, but as the exposure of the team increased due to success on the track, it would enable the team to also improve its off-track activities.
Offering Sophia a drink, Anja also grabbed herself something before she kissed my cheek and said she’d go prepare my things. Sitting with Sophia at one of the small tables, she met my eyes and blushed rather shyly. I think she was starting to comprehend just where she was.
“I’m guessing you know quite a bit about me?” I had to ask, “No point really introducing myself?” I still offered my hand. “I’m Marco. And you’re Sophia. Are you local to here?”
“I live in Bologna…”
“Ah… I’m guessing that you know I live there too?” The smile broadened as she nodded. “Studying or working?”
“Well, I know that I’m younger than you. I’m only twenty-one. I’m still studying at university. I’ve always had an eye for numbers so doing a joint business and accounting degree.”
“So you’re smart?”
She chuckled as she replied, “Well, some people think I’m quite smart. I’m just doing a degree that I knew would do me some good when it came to starting my career.”
“Are you a Bologna native?”
“No. I’m from the south around Naples. All my family is still around there. I visit when I can, but I’ve loved living in Bologna since I arrived.”
“So have I! To be honest, I’m living there because it’s close to the team. If you don’t mind me asking, where abouts do you live?”
“Close to the university. I live with a couple of other students.” She cleared her throat and asked, “Are you with the woman who was with you when arriving?”
I thought about how to reply. “Professionally, she’s my assistant, therapist and generally helps me however she can. Privately, we’re not together in a monogamous sense. Friends with benefits at most.”
I expected the smile. “Oh, well… I must thank you for inviting me in here.”
“It’s not something I’ve done before. Are you here with anyone?”
“My father will be coming up tomorrow night and will attend the race. I’ve watched Formula One with him since I was a little girl. I haven’t missed a race here at Imola since I arrived in Bologna to study. Before that, Dad took me to Monza when I was thirteen for the first time.”
“Only you? Any siblings?’
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