Page 79 of Downforce

As if he’s in reverie.

My father’s reminder that everyone on a team is as important … if not more so than the person behind the wheel.

“We don’t build these cars alone,” he’d once told me after he snuck me into Amato’s facilities when I was just five years old. No one except essential personnel is allowed to see the cars before their debut. Even back then, drivers had very limited access to the team cars before the start of the race.

But I’d asked my dad dozens of questions about the car after his first test drive of the season. He must’ve gotten so sick of me that he relented and brought me in to see the car for myself, a secret between the two of us, and one of the engineers who’d let us into the facility.

It was then that he stressed the importance of everyone on the team after I’d told him what a great car he’d built.

“I didn’t build the car,” he corrected me, and then took me over to the wall to show me the names of all fifty members of the Amato team at the time. He knew the names of everyone without looking. Knew their wives and children’s names if they had them, as well.

“How so?” I ask the engineer.

The lift of his eyebrows and gleam in his eyes tells me he wanted me to ask this question.

“When I mentioned that I didn’t think I was smart enough to get a degree in engineering, he told me the story of the Formula 1 team owner who’d publicly announced that this sport had no place for people like him.”

I swallowed down the anger that rises in my throat.

Nearly three decades ago, my father was a Brazilian man working his arse off to break into a sport dominated mainly by Europeans. For many of them, his skin was a little too sun-kissed and his accent when speaking English was too thick for their liking.

“Then he pointed to the picture on the wall taken the first time he won the Driver’s Championship.” His smile widens. “He’d said that the owner and his team were no longer in Formula 1 but that he was still standing.”

Many teams have come and gone in F1 over the decades.

“That’s my favorite picture of him,” I confess before I can stop myself. What I don’t say is that I still have that signed photo on the wall of my bedroom. One of my most prized possessions.

“What’s your name?” I ask the engineer.

“Samuel.”

I extend my hand out to shake his. “Pleasure to work with you, Samuel,” I say, although we’ve met before.

He gives me a puzzled expression at first but eventually shakes my hand.

“I have to admit, I was surprised when I heard you were joining the team,” Samuel says. “I mean, many of the rumors claimed you had no interest in joining Amato.”

I almost tell him that those weren’t just rumors. It’s true that I had zero interest in being a driver for the team sporting fire engine red as their signature color. But it’s a partial truth.

“There’s another rumor going around,” I comment.

That piques his interest.

“That Amato is in contention to win our first Constructor’s Championship in over three decades,” I say.

He runs a hand through his hair as if he hasn’t allowed himself to even consider such a thought.

“What do you say, Samuel?” I ask. “Should we make it happen?”

Samuel glances around, eyes roaming over to the various car parts in the facilities before his gaze lands on the simulator.

“I think I’d like that,” he answers, voice low but distinct.

I squeeze his shoulder. “Then why don’t you show me a couple of things before I jump into the simulator one final time before heading out.”

Samuel eagerly answers my questions about the car and a few issues I had in my last race before I get into the simulator.

After a couple of practice simulations, I decide I’m not done for the day. By the time I reach my flat, I’ll have enough time to use the gym in the building to get in a good workout before the day is over.