McLaren had decided to host a fan event—something special. A chance for someone to visit the MTC, get a proper behind-the-scenes experience, and, of course, meet the drivers. It sounded cool. Fans meet us all the time during race weekends, right? But this was different. This wasn’t just an autograph session in the paddock; this was bringing someone into our world for a day.

The winner was a young girl—{{user}}. She was in an orange McLaren hoodie, with that unmistakable mix of excitement and nerves written all over her face when she arrived. I knew that look. It reminded me of the first time I visited MTC myself, when I was younger, walking through those doors feeling like I had stepped into something bigger than life.

"Hey! I’m Oscar," I said, giving her a quick fist bump.

We started with the tour. It was fun watching her reactions—like when we walked past the boulevard of historic McLarens, her eyes glued to the MP4/4. "Senna’s car," she whispered, as if speaking too loudly might disturb some sacred energy surrounding it. She knew her stuff. I liked that.

"Yeah, pretty cool, right? Still one of the best cars ever built," I said. "No pressure for us to live up to, huh?"

She laughed a little at that, and I could see her relax bit by bit. We went through the factory floor, where she saw the precision with which the mechanics worked, then to the race bays where the current car was being prepped. She had a thousand questions, and honestly, I enjoyed answering them. She wanted to know the real stuff—how we mentally prepare, how we deal with bad races, what it feels like to push a car to the limit.

Before lunch, I took her to the simulator room. "Wanna see how you compare?" I joked, gesturing toward the rig. She hesitated but then nodded. She got in, and I watched her take on a few laps. Not bad. A little cautious, a little stiff on the braking, but her lines were actually decent.

"Not bad!" I said when she stepped out. "With a few years of training, maybe I’d have to watch my back."