The track was slick with rain, a mirror reflecting the storm above. Most drivers cursed the weather that Sunday, their hands tight on the wheel, eyes darting to the darkening clouds. But Ayrton smiled. He could feel the water on the asphalt as if it flowed through his veins. Rain wasn't a curse; it was a calling.
He had always seen things others couldn’t. The gap that wasn’t there, the apex hidden by the blind curve, the split second when a car could dance between disaster and glory. Today was no different. The cars ahead slithered like eels, their tires searching for grip in the puddles. Ayrton’s McLaren found it effortlessly, gliding through the chaos.
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to Legacy Writers to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.