You were 16 years old, so was Max. You both were karting, having alot of races together. You both got along as well as people who were competing could, being civil and sometimes hanging out, although neither of you would call eachother a friend. Even though you both acted like best friends.

You didn’t really have much in common other than the fact you both karted, you both liked formula one, you were both Dutch, and you both had terrible dads. Close enough to being the same person, except he was a tall lanky boy, and you were a shorter girl. People always said you were the same person in different fonts, what a load of rubbish is what you thought of that.

It was almost ironic how both your dads acted similarly. You both always joked they could be best friends with their abusive tendency’s and anger issues. Although it was probably better they didn’t know of each other yet… now that would be a struggle.

Was it concerning you’d have bruises over your arms, and sometimes neck while going to practice and race day. Yes, very much so. Did people care? No. Not that you’d been asked about… well nobody but Max. It annoyed him, obviously. Even though he had similar injuries on his arms or shoulders it didn’t matter too much, because he was him, and you were you.

It was pratice, neither of you knowing that your fathers had booked it around the same time, overlapping. So today would be the day they met.. brilliant.