Racing Thoughts

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Sports  |  House: Booksie Classic
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Racing thoughts of a racing driver on the verge of losing the world championship.

Submitted: February 21, 2017

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Content

Submitted: February 21, 2017

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How could it have happened? He had dominiated all season. It seemed like he had it in the bag, He was miles ahead in the championship. His major adversary initially struggling with his car and soon falling out of contention after the crash. His car had been perfect from the beginning. Perfectly suiting his driving style. This championship was rightfully his. He and no one else could claim to be the best driver in the world.

To make matters worse, he had already lost most of his lead while being sidelined for breaching regulations. Overtaking before the start. Ignoring the black flags. The suspensions would have been softer if there wasn't that suspicion that his team were using illegal driver aids. Surely that didn't matter. It was a matter of safety. Especially after the crash. And he was the best without these aids as well.

And now he was sidelined next to the track, staring into the jaws of an unlikely defeat. Ultimately raced into oblivion by the Englishman. The man he had called a second-rate driver in the press. The man who he had defeated over and over again this season. The man whose dogged determination had kept him into the title fight by winning all races during his suspension. The man who had plainly outdriven him, the rain-master, in a soken wet Japanese Grand Prix, on older and blistering tires. The man who had just hounded him into a race-ending error. And so, leading the final race of the season, with just a single point separating them in the title fight, he had flung his car into the barrier. Forced to yield to the man he had so openly disdained.

In a moment of despair, he had tried to seize what was rightfully his in an attempt to take the Englishman with him into the abyss. Swinging his fatally damaged car back on track, he had forced a collision with the man that had taken the battle to him.

And now he was standing lonely next to the track. Helpless to see the Englishman continue, drop by the pits before strollong to the finish and snatch the championship. The checkup should just take seconds. 

It became minutes.

It became laps.

The Englishman abandoned his damaged car.

Yes. A championship always finds its rightful heir.



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