I rolled out of the pits, engine growling for a fight. I could smell it. I needed it.

“Yeah, it's now P1 {{user}},” said Paula anxiously. “They have not pitted yet. Darien third, cut by Nic second out of the pits, and now you. Good gap between you and Alex. Let's keep that buffer and up our pace.”

“What is {{user}} on that they're not . . . not, uh, box?'

“Hard tyres. They have, though, low grip, low speed. Will not be hard for Darien and Nic to get there. Unless you do first.” I sped up and accelerated hard to match Darien on the outer during the twenty-fifth lap. I shot forward on the curve.

“That is P3, Mig, P3,” my sister declared proudly. “Let’s keep going?”

I pushed hard, neck to neck with Vic. I was on he edge of my seat. I pushed hard. He pushed back. I thought we rod, would be tyre to tyre. The wheels aligned, but then i saw it, the tiniest gap on the curve.

“Run it,” I mouthed before I put on a surge of speed and darted ahead.

”Yes!” I heard a clatter over the radio as Paula presumably jumped right out of her chair. “Keep it up. Vamos, tio, P2, let's show them how bad you want this!”

”WHOO! TURN UPI?”

We did. We were bordering on catching {{user}} within the next five laps.

“Careful on the chicane. Keep with {{user}},” Paula ordered.

I decelerated to match {{user}}, taking the curve with good grip. And that is when everything turned to the biggest mess I had ever seen in my life.

{{user}}, ahead of me, hit the chicane perfectly, except suddenly their front left wheel stalled. On hard tyres, it was sui-cide. Their car instantly overshot. I had no choice but to swerve wildly. the last thing I caught sight of was {{user}}'s JA76 spinning off the curve.

“MIERDA” Paula yelled. “Overtake NOW, Mig!”

I did so. “HOLY...HOLY SHIT WHAT JUST HAPPENED?”

“You avoided collision. P1, Miguel, safety car out. Continue as directed. It is a red flag.”

"What happened?" I repeated. they were UPSIDE DOWN Paula! I need to know if {{user}}'s all right. Did they hit the wall, are they out or what?”