The afternoon sun had hidden behind threatening dark clouds
an hour or so ago. A cold breeze blew across the vast open space, sending a
chill down everyone’s spine. All the onlookers knew what was in store –
“changeable weather conditions”. The three words that made every motor race
exciting, separated the great from the good and created local legends who would
be spoken of in the pubs not just tonight, but for years to come.
Twenty cars lined up on the grid. Young drivers below the
age of Fifteen from all over the country lined up for what was promising to be
an unforgettable classic. Rain was in the air, it was coming. The clouds and
the breeze were telltale giveaways. But when exactly would it arrive? Would it
be before the race started? Or would it be one of those chaotic showers that
fall in the middle of the race that disrupt the racing order? Looking up from
her newspaper, she saw the time: 10 minutes to go. Seated in the stands, she
felt butterflies in her stomach and bile rise to her mouth. This happened
before every race. She couldn’t help but wonder how her son kept his wits about
him in this situation. After all, he was the one banging wheels at a 140 km/hr!
He was fearless in his approach, taking the car to its ragged edge and ever so
occasionally, beyond it. Her lived by the racing adage penned by the
redoubtable Brazilian legend Ayrton Senna: “If you no longer go for a gap that
exists, you are no longer a racing driver”.
Days like this made her very nervous. The pit crew were
rolling the cars out on to the track. The drivers were strapped in, wearing
their helmets. Through the open visors, she could see all 20 men, no, boys, focusing
intently, mustering up all their powers of concentration. A cup of piping hot
tea always did wonders to calm her nerves. Her son was starting in third position
and she knew he would be fancying his chances of taking the lead on the first
lap itself. “ He’s “Lightning Luke” ”, she thought as she poured a cup from her
thermos.
The engines were revving now. Just a few seconds before they
would put pedal to the metal and go screaming around the racetrack. Her maternal
instincts always went berserk at these times: was the asphalt grippy enough?
were the tire barriers big enough? Was the ambulance equipped to be dispatched
at a moments notice if needed? This wasn’t her first rodeo. She also knew these
thoughts would be the farthest from her son’s mind. Luke was in the zone, focusing
on only the lights, waiting for them to turn green so he could floor the
throttle.
And when they did, he had
a great start. Possibly the best reaction time out of all the 20 cars on
the grid, he had shot into 2nd place and was almost alongside the
car in the lead by the time they made it down into turn one. The lead cars turned
in, almost side by side, at over a 100 km/hr. Luke’s mother put the cup down
and was on her feet, hands waving wildly, cheering the young protégé on. Just
then, there was contact between the two cars. A loud clanging sound was heard
as the metal bodies came together and skidded off into the runoff area. Both
cars looked damaged, their drivers shaken. But not out. Miraculously, both had
kept their engines running. And apart from a puncture on both cars, they looked
okay. Both cars gingerly rejoined the track at the back of the field.
When she saw that, she sighed in relief. He may be plumb
last on the track, but he looked okay! Her worst fear was her son not walking away
from a wreck like that. He had to nurse the punctured tire all the way around
the track, going agonizingly slowly to the pits. As she sipped her tea, she
knew he would change his tires and make his way back out again – he loved
racing too much! Just then, a drop of water fell on to her cup. And then
another. “Change to wet weather tires!” she screamed at the top of her lungs,
knowing full well that the pit crew couldn’t hear her. But they too had taken
note of this turn of events.
In the car, Luke saw the drops of rain fall on the visor of
his helmet. And smiled. This was going to be fun. The rain would liven up the
race, giving him a chance to fight back from his compromised position as the
wet surface would make the track unpredictable. A good display here, and who
knows, he could be in Formula 3 next year. Also, it would mean that everyone
else on the track would have to tip toe back to the pits for a change of tires
as well, helping him gain some time back on his rivals. He gripped the wheel
tighter and headed back out into the tricky conditions.
A few laps later, it wasn’t just tricky, it was treacherous.
The rain was pouring down and visibility was poor at best. He had made a few
great overtakes and some of his rivals were overwhelmed by the challenge of driving
in these conditions, skidding off the track into retirement. As he drove past
the start line, he saw P11 next to his name on the big timing screen.
His mother was sitting in the stand, fingers crossed, as she
prayed for his safety. Just hoping he got back out of the car with all his
fingers and toes untouched. She could barely see the car through the rain and
the spray, but even she could see he was on the limit. Luke knew he had to
trust his “feel”, his natural ability behind the car working like sensors, goading
him into slowing down as late as possible, and getting back on the throttle as
early as possible.
Soon, it was time for the cars to go round the track one last
time. The downpour had continued, and so had the drama. Luke had run an amazing
race so far, recovering back up to P3 as he picked his rivals off one by one.
He hadn’t put a wheel wrong in the wet, mixed caution with aggression and won
many wheel-to-wheel battles to get back up to the podium places. He was a few
seconds behind the pair battling for the lead, unable to catch up with them but
always a looming threat in their rear-view mirrors. As he crossed the start
finish line to begin his final lap, he noticed a new rivulet forming at the
braking point for the first corner. The lead pair, more focused on each other,
must have missed it. Their tires locked up, skidding out of control onto the
grass at the exit of the corner. But through some miracle, the pair had
synchronized their half spins perfectly and avoided contact with each other.
They went back on the throttle to resume their battle. Sensing an opportunity,
Luke made a lunge between them, trusting his reflexes even in these arduous
conditions. He swerved at the last possible nano second as all 3 cars emerged
from the corner with their noses alongside one another. “Yayyyy” his mother
roared in approval, as the hundreds of fans in the grandstands held their collective
breath. The sporting equivalent of walking on water was unfolding before their
very eyes! Plenty of stories to tell in the pub tonight.
Around the next few corners, Luke managed to sneak ahead and
take the race lead. Somehow, he had managed to win a race he was dead last in
after the first lap. As he parked his car in the pits, completely spent, his
team came over to congratulate him. Lifting the young lad on their shoulders,
they celebrated his triumph joyously. Watching Luke’s unabashed, uninhibited
glee made his mother’s heart swell with pride. “That’s my boy” she wanted to
yell, to everyone and to no one in particular. But she couldn’t. She could only
watch from afar as the son she gave up as an infant due to an unplanned
teenaged pregnancy grew up to be lightning quick. Foster parents had taken care
of the lad through the system, and it was only three years ago that she had
managed to trace Luke as the child she had left behind. Unable to confront him
with the truth, she still came to all his races and watched him perform
miracles on the racetrack. He was unafraid, a brave young man who had faced
tumultuous challenges growing up. And her? She had been a coward then and left
him, and her bravery deserted her even now. She wanted to hug him, to hold him
close, to tell him that he made her so proud. Ofcourse, she did none of those
things. She placed her hoodie over her face and walked away in the rain, grateful
for her son’s safety and victory. Would she one day be able to face Luke and
bring to light the truth? Should she?
