My Formula 1 System

Chapter 98 Seated, Support And Then... Speed

Race Day: June 2, Hungaro Ring, Budapest, Hungary

Saturday had finally arrived, and the vast, stadium-like circuit of the Hungaro Ring was buzzing with energy, ready to host the Formula 2 Hungarian Grand Prix. The Featured Race was scheduled for the late afternoon at 4 p.m., expected to stretch into the evening, possibly concluding around 5 or even 6. At the moment, however, it was just a few minutes past 2 p.m., and the Sprint Race was underway.

The sky above was an interplay of clouds and light, creating a soft brightness that hinted at perfect racing conditions. Despite the forecast of overcast skies, no rain seemed imminent—a reassuring sign for both drivers and fans. The Hungaro Ring, with its 4.381 kilometers of winding asphalt, was no stranger to delivering intense battles, and today was no exception. The grandstands, towering and modern, were packed to capacity with enthusiastic fans waving Hungarian flags, chanting names, and creating an electrifying atmosphere.

Luca felt optimistic. From the perfect weather to the palpable excitement in the air, everything seemed to be aligning just right. Spending time in the Trampos Racing garage, he had been analyzing aerial images of the circuit. Every curve, every straight, every potential overtaking zone seemed etched into his mind. Meanwhile, Ansel and Haas had wrapped up the Sprint Race with solid performances—Ansel clinching a strong second place, and Haas close behind in fourth. Their finishes were respectable, though it wasn't yet confirmed if these results would play a role in setting the grid for the eighth round's Featured Race.

"Maybe it'll be the next Sprint Race," Luca mused as he folded up the aerial photos and set them aside. He spent about 20 minutes unwinding with his playlist, letting the music drown out the faint sounds of engines roaring in the distance.

When he finally decided to step out of the garage and join the team in the paddock, the spectacle of the Hungaro Ring hit him anew. Unlike Bahrain's desert surroundings, the Hungaro Ring was nestled amidst lush greenery and rolling hills, giving the modern track a timeless, picturesque backdrop. The circuit's contemporary design was awe-inspiring. Escalators carried spectators and personnel across its multi-level facilities, and the paddock area buzzed with activity as engineers fine-tuned cars, media crews set up interviews, and fans vied for glimpses of their favorite drivers.

Luca took an escalator himself, descending to the ground level where the team's fluorescent-lit garage awaited. The unmistakable scent of fuel, rubber, and heated metal filled the air, blending with the distant cheers of the crowd. Both of Trampos Racing's cars rested inside—one still streaked with grime from the Sprint Race, while Luca's remained spotless, awaiting its turn on the track.

"…And we extend a special welcome to our esteemed guest today, Ms. Éva Nagy, Hungary's Minister of Innovation and Technology, here to experience the thrill of the Formula 2 Hungarian Grand Prix…!" The announcement echoed through the paddock speakers, eliciting a fresh wave of applause from the stands.

As Luca stood there, taking it all in, a crew member hurried into the garage. Spotting Luca, he paused just long enough to deliver an update. "Oh, Luca. It's fifty minutes till lights out," he informed before darting up the short staircase, likely to relay the same message to Ansel.

Luca glanced at his watch—the digital display read a few minutes past 3 p.m. With less than an hour to go before the Featured Race began, the anticipation in the air was palpable. He inhaled deeply, letting the charged atmosphere fuel his focus. Though he should have headed to the cool-off room for the pre-race briefing with Mr. Grant, Mr. Moritz, Mr. Colt, and Ms. Vallotton, he couldn't resist venturing out into the paddock.

Stepping outside, Luca was immediately enveloped by the roar of the crowd. The grandstands, shimmering under the muted daylight, were alive with waving flags and a cacophony of cheers. The collective energy of thousands seemed to ripple across the circuit. The Hungaro Ring's layout—known for its tight corners and limited overtaking opportunities—stretched out before him, and it was a demanding 4.5 kilometers that would soon challenge every driver on the grid.

As Luca moved further into the paddock, his presence caught the attention of the cameras. Unbeknownst to him, his form was being broadcasted across all screens around the circuit. It wasn't until Victor, seated quietly in the paddock, pointed it out that Luca realized the sudden uproar of cheers was because of him.

Unsure how to respond, he simply waved to the crowd, focusing on areas where Trampos' signature red stood out among the sea of colors.

"...And there he is... Luca Rennick, 18. The pole belongs to that young man today, and he'll be starting just ahead of Max Addams. There's a lot of speculation about whether he can convert another victory. Let's see how Trampos has set things up for him..."

Luca made his way to one of the paddock's designated seating areas, where Trampos' male crew members were gathered. The team had strategically placed themselves just behind their pit box. To the right was Hatcherk's box, and to the left, a smaller team's. The pit lane, cutting right from Straight 4 and intersecting just before Turn 11, was a flurry of activity.

As men and boys gathered in the paddock, their conversation flowed seamlessly, as though they knew each other's minds. Dennis, crew member 2, in charge of the pit, had one hand on his waist as he adjusted his cap, glaring at the neat track where marshals were running drills. "Clean race earlier. Erik might've pushed harder for third, though. A bit too cautious into the last turn, don't you think?" he remarked to no one in particular.

McCauley, sipping from a steaming cup of coffee, overheard and approached. "Better cautious than in the barriers, mate. Fourth isn't bad for a Sprint..." He moved toward Luca, his gaze briefly shifting to the young driver. "After all, the Featured Races give us the real points, and him right there will get them for us."

"If he nails the start."

Luca rolled his eyes. He had Grid Launch skill now—a bad start was the least of his concerns.

"You sound like an armchair expert, mate," McCauley quipped, sinking into the chair beside Luca. "What'd you say after Bahrain? That Luca can't keep a lead past ten laps? Remind me again who crossed the finish line first the next race?"

Victor chuckled in his puffed sweater. McCauley took that as support and spread his arms wide, nearly spilling coffee onto Luca in the process. "I saw Max in the Sprint today. We have to admit, he's hungry," Victor said with a shrug.

"Everyone is hungry, folks!" McCauley hollered, loud enough for Hatcherk's garage to hear. "But it's Luca's job here to feed 'em dust!" He nudged Luca with his elbow. "Am I right, mate?"

Luca, who had been quietly fading from the chatter, was visualizing himself in the race. The faint strains of the season's theme song echoed through the circuit in the background. Snapping back to reality, he replied, "I'll try my best, like always," he said to McCauley. "You sound too confident."

"It's just support."

A younger crew member, Sam, who had been listening intently, jumped in with excitement. "Did you see the crowd when Luca waved? I swear, a quarter of Hungary's here just for him. That kind of support has to count for something."

"Support doesn't keep my car on the track," Luca said dryly.

"But it's good for morale," Dennis countered. "Speaking of which, can someone here please tell him to quit looking so stiff when he's on camera?! He looked like a deer in headlights up there."

Luca received a heavy slap to his back from McCauley as the crew burst into laughter, his mind still playing out the race.

"... Bueseno Velocità, 13, Max Addams, 67, Daniel Walding...!"

"... Trampos Racing, 43, Ansel Hahn, 21, Luca Rennick...!"

"... Squadra Corse, 66, Albert Derstappen, 75, Miles Bellingham...!"

The voice of the announcer calling out names and numbers rang in the air.

"Thirty minutes till lights out," someone informed the team. With a sigh, Luca stood, cutting short his time in the paddock to return to the cool-off room, his focus sharpening with every step.