visits 2 (ayrton/bruno)
-♥-
October 15th 2009. 3:21 am.
You are already 26, and you just can’t keep your mind off the thought that in 8 years you’re going to surpass your uncle forever.
8 years, the age you were as Ayrton let you drive his boat. 8 years, the approximate time you had to lay off your true calling: motorsport.
You haven’t spoken to anyone, not even your mother, about your uncle’s ‘special’ visit 5 months ago. You don’t want her to worry over you thinking you have gone insane, you’re not too sure yourself, but you do treasure that blue glove Ayrton slipped on your hand that night and you are almost positive she has seen you actually wearing it more than once but she’s never mentioned a word. Not that you’d say anything to her either.
5 months ago he also promised you he’d fetch you ‘when the right time came’. He hasn’t come yet and you do feel a little disappointed by this. Or maybe a lot.
As you mull over this you blink rapidly, trying to hold back a few threatening tears; but you keep your eyes closed after the last blink and a hot, shiny teardrop slides down your cheek and dampens your pillowcase.
As soon as you open your eyes again you see a young-looking guy staring straight at you from one corner of your darkened room and his face suddenly becomes relaxed with a boyish smile when he sees you spot him.
“Happy birthday, Bruno Senna,” he says, and you are seriously creeped out to say the least.
His face is eerily familiar and those big blue eyes are tinted with sadness even though his lips are pulled up in a genuine smile. And then you know.
“Wow. Thanks, Henry.” You smile a little at him. “It… really means a lot.” You don’t know what you’re supposed to say when a dead person congratulates you on your birthday; you just settle for putting your feelings in to words.
“No problem,” he answers. He hands you something too; it’s the fabric and texture and mainly the color which make you recognize it as the left glove matching yours.
And suddenly you’re in the middle of a dissipating fog in a circuit you’ve been in before but never raced in quite yet. And he is there in his blue overalls with his arms spread wide and a loving smile adorning his lips.”
“Tio!” you shout, making a run towards him and hugging him hard.
“Happy birthday, kid,” he whispers, looking up into your eyes. “It’s just… I can’t believe you are so tall. The last time I saw you… before May you were just an ickle boy.”
“Well, thanks, uncle. Mom just fed me well.” You joke, sticking out your tongue playfully to the side.
“Of course, of course,” he says, and his eyes get glassy as he remembers his sister. “Well, as you might have noticed… the right time has come.”
“Why do you always choose special dates?”
“Isn’t it more exciting this way?”
-♥-
This car is certainly not like any other you’ve driven before. And you’ve driven lots of cars, from your uncle’s F1 antique singleseaters to more modern GP2 or LMP1 or Porsches, Nissans, BMWs or whatever.
You can’t really put your finger on what makes it different though. Maybe it’s the way you are racing it. Or who you’re racing it with.
After scarcely four laps, your uncle is leading by almost two seconds. Gilles Villeneuve is second, driving on the very edge to close the gap separating him and Ayrton. Third-placed is Roland, driving apparently nonchalantly and still keeping the pace of the two frontrunners.
You cross the line fourth, 0.8 behind Ratzenberger’s red-and-white car. But your mind is also occupied partly, with Henry Surtees, who is literally on your heels: 0.3 seconds after you in the last lap. The race still has sixteen more laps to go and race director Juan Manuel Fangio is still keeping an eye on the ominous overcast sky above your heads, always so threatening but never actually breaking down into a storm.
Suddenly, as you’re going flat out through Turn 5, the fastest one in the circuit, Henry presses the throttle down in a desperate attempt to overtake you. You close the gap immediately but his car swerves to the right in a straight line, at over 300 kph in a maneuver that is too reminiscent of Imola 1994 for your liking.
But there’s absolutely nothing to worry about, since Henry’s car just bounces off the invisible protections softly, as if he’d crashed against a cushion at 5 kph. And of course you take advantage of it, coming a bit closer to Roland, just 0.5 behind him.
Surprisingly Gilles is leading now, as Henry struggles to catch up with you after his small mistake. But as you approach Turn 7, the slowest one, for the sixth time, you go for it-and overtake Roland in one graceful move. Your uncle is next at only 1 second: you are determined to pass him like you did frequently when you both raced karts in his farm all those years ago.
Henry has finally managed to catch up with Roland, and he is battling hard with him. The obviously more experienced Austrian is holding his place successfully so far, but a young and fearless Surtees is using virtually every chance he sees to pass him.
When everyone has completed lap seven, Gilles is just 0.5 seconds before Ayrton. A gap of 0.8 separates you from him. Roland and Henry have basically the same time, barely a second behind your car.
Unbelievably you have just clocked the fastest lap as you pursue your uncle frantically. You still have to keep an eye on the frenzy behind you, as the thing you want least is to get caught in it.
-♥-
You’re quite sure you have just witnessed the best F1 passing in history. Too bad it’s only your eyes and memory that will bring it back to the living.
It happened in Turn 11, the last corner of the circuit. Gilles’ car slid wide and from your cockpit it looked like Ayrton had passed him for sure, coming a couple of meters clear of him-but Gilles somehow pressed the throttle and they went parallel to each other for the rest of the corner. You swore you saw sparks flying from between the two cars, yet some way or other the two supremely skilled drivers behind each of the steering wheels managed to keep them on the track.
Finally your uncle manages to cross the line 0.1 seconds away from Gilles-but it is over for the Canadian, as Ayrton starts to escape from him at an unbelievable rhythm.
You’re enjoying a moment of relative calmness, as the two frontrunners and both cars behind you are entangled in their own battles. And then you realize how different you are from all of them. You realize their lives are over and yours is still going, yet right now you’re sharing… you’re sharing your existence with them. And it feels so right but your brain tells you it’s terribly wrong and against all logic. But then again, who talks about logic in a sport in which-
Your car slides violently and it snaps you back to reality. Or whatever this is.
-♥-
Lap 13
You’re concentrating on the feel of the steering wheel through your gloves, as you’re somewhat lacking something to do and even though you’re fairly close to Gilles, Ayrton seems a world away.
The next thing that happens before your eyes is so astonishing you doubt you will forget it either.
From your point of view all the pressure is on Gilles and Roland, as they’re the ones being chased. But surprisingly it is Ayrton who was a small outing, coincidentally at the Tamburello-like corner: Turn 5. His car just appears to slide wide, and it’s just a small trip through thte gravel trap, but it’s all you and Gilles need to pass him, one by each side in a perfectly coordinated move, looking almost as if it was planned beforehand.
It occurs in the hairpin, two corners after Ayrton’s mistake. But it’s the Canadian who goes on to occupy first place as he overtook your uncle
-♥-
Lap 14
If there is something you’re sure of in this unusual and hazy reality it is the fact that you are having the time of your life. Or existence. Or whatever this is supposed to be.
You’re speeding at an unbelievable velocity through the corners, your uncle stuck to you like glue. The wind caused due to the speed is ruffling your haild wildly and there is a big smile on your lips as you guide your car through thte triple chicane, then the hairpin, and it is only in the last corner of this heavenly circuit in which your uncle’s astonishing and purely innate skill shows and he overtakes you.
Before you can help yourself you let a small chuckle out and take the role of predator in this sort of game you’re playing with your uncle, a game with the same rules as all those wonderful karting battles in the early 90s.
-♥-
Lap 16
Your uncle has escaped from you and is now targeting Gilles Villeneuve, the leading man for the last two laps. The two amazing drivers are battling fiercely; your uncle is practically shoving his nosecone in Gilles’s way in literally every corner. But Villeneuve closes him in a brilliant way every time he attempts to gain the lead.
Yet after much struggling from both of them, the inevitable happens: Ayrton’s front wing lightly brushes Gilles’s left rear tyre as the latter tries frantically to avoid being passed by your uncle; thankfully these cars are nothing like the ones the living use, and the only consequence is Gilles spinning and Ayrton passing him.
So you press the throttle even more to try and reach them, but they were too far in front of you so you stay at 0.2 seconds from Gilles.
And here’s where the Senna style begins to show. You find yourself emulating your uncle’s aggressive moves, trying the hardest you can to
-♥-
Lap 17
As you drive flat-out through Turn 2 the first raindrops start dampening your curly hair. It is classical for every race to be held in this circuit to have some rain, be it lots or just a light shower. The five of you look upwards instinctively.
You don’t know how or what brings you to do it, but you quickly put your eyes back on the road to make the most of Gilles’s momentary and somewhat stupid distraction.
As soon as you pass him you hear him laughing behind you above the roar of the engines, mostly at himself, and when you look in the rearview mirrors he is holding his left hand up, thumb pointing skywards, and you understand he’s recognizing his own mistake.
-♥-
Lap 18
Your car receives a sudden extra boost, you don’t know if it’s just your determination or that the throttle reached new levels. You take advantage of it and then you’re in the straight and you open wide so you’re right of your uncle and it all happens so fast and slow at the same time you’re not really sure how but you’re in first place now.
-♥-
Lap 20
It’s the last lap and you’ve almost opened a one-second gap. Your uncle is second, he has just gained the place back from Gilles, who passed him aggressively a few corners before.
All throughout the race Henry and Roland have been battling in a world of their own, to the point when virtually every time you looked in your rearview mirrors you saw a different car behind you.
The rain is starting to fall less hardly now, but strangely visibility wasn’t reduced all throughout the race-it was just run in different conditions, that’s all.
You cross the line, astonished but extremely proud of your own accomplishments. You step out of the car and you almost bump into Gilles Villeneuve, who is holding out his right hand.+
“Bruno Senna, congratulations,” he has a small French accent but you’re too baffled to realize it because you’re shaking hands with someone who died over a year before you were born. “And happy birthday!” he adds with a smile.
“Yeah! Way to go, Bruno.” Henry gives you a high-five and runs his hand through his messy wet hair.
“Awesome job!” Roland is walking away backwards and waving. “Gotta go, see you later guy! Till next time, Bruno!”
You can’t keep a smile off your face when Roland acknowledges that there will be a next time. Another epic race with not your usual racers.
Everyone waves goodbye to Roland and you turn towards the other three.
“Hey, tio?” It’s still on your mind and you know you’re not leaving without knowing it. “A few laps before the end of the race… you spun out. Why?”
Gilles turns towards your uncle too, and you can tell he had probably wondered the very same thing when it happened.
Ayrton looks a little sheepish as his lips take the shape of a small, shy smile.
“You mean… you mean at Turn 5, right?” He asks, even though you know he knows. Henry is now looking at him too, interesting in something that probably happened while he was too busy with Roland. “Well, um… you won’t really believe it, Bruno, but…” his smile is wider now as he says with decreasing intensity, “I was thinking about you, boy.”
“About me?”
He grins at you and looks into your eyes. “I’m proud of you, kid. So, so proud.”
The fog returns and you know what’s coming next.
“Tio! Come back soon!” You scream uncertainly, not really sure if he heard you.
His blurry hand reaches for yours. “I will. Happy birthday, my dear sobrinho.”
-♥-
“Bruno!!”
You open your eyes reluctantly, stifling a small, quiet groan.
“Yeah, mom?”
The next thing you know, you can’t breathe. Your mother is hugging you harder than ever, and you’re sort of squished into a sandwich between Bianca and Paula.
“Mom! I’m-choking -”
Her eyes are filled with tears and you are even more confused when you see the look of relief on your sisters’ faces.
“Oh, Bruno! We-we thought we’d lost you!” your mother is slightly agitated, and that just adds up to your confusion.
“What? What’s wrong?” you feel yourself; nothing apparently wrong.
“You weren’t breathing, Bruno!” Bianca looks worried too. “We shook you and screamed your name for ten minutes but you didn’t react to anything!”
“Oh. Well… I’m okay now.” You smirk slightly even though you know you could have died. “I-I had some… uh… unfinished dreams to take care of.”
Your mother doesn’t look too pleased with your answer, but she lets go.
Paula’s voice is suddenly heard in the silence that follows,
“Bruno? Why are you wearing two gloves?”
October 15th 2009. 3:21 am.
You are already 26, and you just can’t keep your mind off the thought that in 8 years you’re going to surpass your uncle forever.
8 years, the age you were as Ayrton let you drive his boat. 8 years, the approximate time you had to lay off your true calling: motorsport.
You haven’t spoken to anyone, not even your mother, about your uncle’s ‘special’ visit 5 months ago. You don’t want her to worry over you thinking you have gone insane, you’re not too sure yourself, but you do treasure that blue glove Ayrton slipped on your hand that night and you are almost positive she has seen you actually wearing it more than once but she’s never mentioned a word. Not that you’d say anything to her either.
5 months ago he also promised you he’d fetch you ‘when the right time came’. He hasn’t come yet and you do feel a little disappointed by this. Or maybe a lot.
As you mull over this you blink rapidly, trying to hold back a few threatening tears; but you keep your eyes closed after the last blink and a hot, shiny teardrop slides down your cheek and dampens your pillowcase.
As soon as you open your eyes again you see a young-looking guy staring straight at you from one corner of your darkened room and his face suddenly becomes relaxed with a boyish smile when he sees you spot him.
“Happy birthday, Bruno Senna,” he says, and you are seriously creeped out to say the least.
His face is eerily familiar and those big blue eyes are tinted with sadness even though his lips are pulled up in a genuine smile. And then you know.
“Wow. Thanks, Henry.” You smile a little at him. “It… really means a lot.” You don’t know what you’re supposed to say when a dead person congratulates you on your birthday; you just settle for putting your feelings in to words.
“No problem,” he answers. He hands you something too; it’s the fabric and texture and mainly the color which make you recognize it as the left glove matching yours.
And suddenly you’re in the middle of a dissipating fog in a circuit you’ve been in before but never raced in quite yet. And he is there in his blue overalls with his arms spread wide and a loving smile adorning his lips.”
“Tio!” you shout, making a run towards him and hugging him hard.
“Happy birthday, kid,” he whispers, looking up into your eyes. “It’s just… I can’t believe you are so tall. The last time I saw you… before May you were just an ickle boy.”
“Well, thanks, uncle. Mom just fed me well.” You joke, sticking out your tongue playfully to the side.
“Of course, of course,” he says, and his eyes get glassy as he remembers his sister. “Well, as you might have noticed… the right time has come.”
“Why do you always choose special dates?”
“Isn’t it more exciting this way?”
-♥-
This car is certainly not like any other you’ve driven before. And you’ve driven lots of cars, from your uncle’s F1 antique singleseaters to more modern GP2 or LMP1 or Porsches, Nissans, BMWs or whatever.
You can’t really put your finger on what makes it different though. Maybe it’s the way you are racing it. Or who you’re racing it with.
After scarcely four laps, your uncle is leading by almost two seconds. Gilles Villeneuve is second, driving on the very edge to close the gap separating him and Ayrton. Third-placed is Roland, driving apparently nonchalantly and still keeping the pace of the two frontrunners.
You cross the line fourth, 0.8 behind Ratzenberger’s red-and-white car. But your mind is also occupied partly, with Henry Surtees, who is literally on your heels: 0.3 seconds after you in the last lap. The race still has sixteen more laps to go and race director Juan Manuel Fangio is still keeping an eye on the ominous overcast sky above your heads, always so threatening but never actually breaking down into a storm.
Suddenly, as you’re going flat out through Turn 5, the fastest one in the circuit, Henry presses the throttle down in a desperate attempt to overtake you. You close the gap immediately but his car swerves to the right in a straight line, at over 300 kph in a maneuver that is too reminiscent of Imola 1994 for your liking.
But there’s absolutely nothing to worry about, since Henry’s car just bounces off the invisible protections softly, as if he’d crashed against a cushion at 5 kph. And of course you take advantage of it, coming a bit closer to Roland, just 0.5 behind him.
Surprisingly Gilles is leading now, as Henry struggles to catch up with you after his small mistake. But as you approach Turn 7, the slowest one, for the sixth time, you go for it-and overtake Roland in one graceful move. Your uncle is next at only 1 second: you are determined to pass him like you did frequently when you both raced karts in his farm all those years ago.
Henry has finally managed to catch up with Roland, and he is battling hard with him. The obviously more experienced Austrian is holding his place successfully so far, but a young and fearless Surtees is using virtually every chance he sees to pass him.
When everyone has completed lap seven, Gilles is just 0.5 seconds before Ayrton. A gap of 0.8 separates you from him. Roland and Henry have basically the same time, barely a second behind your car.
Unbelievably you have just clocked the fastest lap as you pursue your uncle frantically. You still have to keep an eye on the frenzy behind you, as the thing you want least is to get caught in it.
-♥-
You’re quite sure you have just witnessed the best F1 passing in history. Too bad it’s only your eyes and memory that will bring it back to the living.
It happened in Turn 11, the last corner of the circuit. Gilles’ car slid wide and from your cockpit it looked like Ayrton had passed him for sure, coming a couple of meters clear of him-but Gilles somehow pressed the throttle and they went parallel to each other for the rest of the corner. You swore you saw sparks flying from between the two cars, yet some way or other the two supremely skilled drivers behind each of the steering wheels managed to keep them on the track.
Finally your uncle manages to cross the line 0.1 seconds away from Gilles-but it is over for the Canadian, as Ayrton starts to escape from him at an unbelievable rhythm.
You’re enjoying a moment of relative calmness, as the two frontrunners and both cars behind you are entangled in their own battles. And then you realize how different you are from all of them. You realize their lives are over and yours is still going, yet right now you’re sharing… you’re sharing your existence with them. And it feels so right but your brain tells you it’s terribly wrong and against all logic. But then again, who talks about logic in a sport in which-
Your car slides violently and it snaps you back to reality. Or whatever this is.
-♥-
Lap 13
You’re concentrating on the feel of the steering wheel through your gloves, as you’re somewhat lacking something to do and even though you’re fairly close to Gilles, Ayrton seems a world away.
The next thing that happens before your eyes is so astonishing you doubt you will forget it either.
From your point of view all the pressure is on Gilles and Roland, as they’re the ones being chased. But surprisingly it is Ayrton who was a small outing, coincidentally at the Tamburello-like corner: Turn 5. His car just appears to slide wide, and it’s just a small trip through thte gravel trap, but it’s all you and Gilles need to pass him, one by each side in a perfectly coordinated move, looking almost as if it was planned beforehand.
It occurs in the hairpin, two corners after Ayrton’s mistake. But it’s the Canadian who goes on to occupy first place as he overtook your uncle
-♥-
Lap 14
If there is something you’re sure of in this unusual and hazy reality it is the fact that you are having the time of your life. Or existence. Or whatever this is supposed to be.
You’re speeding at an unbelievable velocity through the corners, your uncle stuck to you like glue. The wind caused due to the speed is ruffling your haild wildly and there is a big smile on your lips as you guide your car through thte triple chicane, then the hairpin, and it is only in the last corner of this heavenly circuit in which your uncle’s astonishing and purely innate skill shows and he overtakes you.
Before you can help yourself you let a small chuckle out and take the role of predator in this sort of game you’re playing with your uncle, a game with the same rules as all those wonderful karting battles in the early 90s.
-♥-
Lap 16
Your uncle has escaped from you and is now targeting Gilles Villeneuve, the leading man for the last two laps. The two amazing drivers are battling fiercely; your uncle is practically shoving his nosecone in Gilles’s way in literally every corner. But Villeneuve closes him in a brilliant way every time he attempts to gain the lead.
Yet after much struggling from both of them, the inevitable happens: Ayrton’s front wing lightly brushes Gilles’s left rear tyre as the latter tries frantically to avoid being passed by your uncle; thankfully these cars are nothing like the ones the living use, and the only consequence is Gilles spinning and Ayrton passing him.
So you press the throttle even more to try and reach them, but they were too far in front of you so you stay at 0.2 seconds from Gilles.
And here’s where the Senna style begins to show. You find yourself emulating your uncle’s aggressive moves, trying the hardest you can to
-♥-
Lap 17
As you drive flat-out through Turn 2 the first raindrops start dampening your curly hair. It is classical for every race to be held in this circuit to have some rain, be it lots or just a light shower. The five of you look upwards instinctively.
You don’t know how or what brings you to do it, but you quickly put your eyes back on the road to make the most of Gilles’s momentary and somewhat stupid distraction.
As soon as you pass him you hear him laughing behind you above the roar of the engines, mostly at himself, and when you look in the rearview mirrors he is holding his left hand up, thumb pointing skywards, and you understand he’s recognizing his own mistake.
-♥-
Lap 18
Your car receives a sudden extra boost, you don’t know if it’s just your determination or that the throttle reached new levels. You take advantage of it and then you’re in the straight and you open wide so you’re right of your uncle and it all happens so fast and slow at the same time you’re not really sure how but you’re in first place now.
-♥-
Lap 20
It’s the last lap and you’ve almost opened a one-second gap. Your uncle is second, he has just gained the place back from Gilles, who passed him aggressively a few corners before.
All throughout the race Henry and Roland have been battling in a world of their own, to the point when virtually every time you looked in your rearview mirrors you saw a different car behind you.
The rain is starting to fall less hardly now, but strangely visibility wasn’t reduced all throughout the race-it was just run in different conditions, that’s all.
You cross the line, astonished but extremely proud of your own accomplishments. You step out of the car and you almost bump into Gilles Villeneuve, who is holding out his right hand.+
“Bruno Senna, congratulations,” he has a small French accent but you’re too baffled to realize it because you’re shaking hands with someone who died over a year before you were born. “And happy birthday!” he adds with a smile.
“Yeah! Way to go, Bruno.” Henry gives you a high-five and runs his hand through his messy wet hair.
“Awesome job!” Roland is walking away backwards and waving. “Gotta go, see you later guy! Till next time, Bruno!”
You can’t keep a smile off your face when Roland acknowledges that there will be a next time. Another epic race with not your usual racers.
Everyone waves goodbye to Roland and you turn towards the other three.
“Hey, tio?” It’s still on your mind and you know you’re not leaving without knowing it. “A few laps before the end of the race… you spun out. Why?”
Gilles turns towards your uncle too, and you can tell he had probably wondered the very same thing when it happened.
Ayrton looks a little sheepish as his lips take the shape of a small, shy smile.
“You mean… you mean at Turn 5, right?” He asks, even though you know he knows. Henry is now looking at him too, interesting in something that probably happened while he was too busy with Roland. “Well, um… you won’t really believe it, Bruno, but…” his smile is wider now as he says with decreasing intensity, “I was thinking about you, boy.”
“About me?”
He grins at you and looks into your eyes. “I’m proud of you, kid. So, so proud.”
The fog returns and you know what’s coming next.
“Tio! Come back soon!” You scream uncertainly, not really sure if he heard you.
His blurry hand reaches for yours. “I will. Happy birthday, my dear sobrinho.”
-♥-
“Bruno!!”
You open your eyes reluctantly, stifling a small, quiet groan.
“Yeah, mom?”
The next thing you know, you can’t breathe. Your mother is hugging you harder than ever, and you’re sort of squished into a sandwich between Bianca and Paula.
“Mom! I’m-choking -”
Her eyes are filled with tears and you are even more confused when you see the look of relief on your sisters’ faces.
“Oh, Bruno! We-we thought we’d lost you!” your mother is slightly agitated, and that just adds up to your confusion.
“What? What’s wrong?” you feel yourself; nothing apparently wrong.
“You weren’t breathing, Bruno!” Bianca looks worried too. “We shook you and screamed your name for ten minutes but you didn’t react to anything!”
“Oh. Well… I’m okay now.” You smirk slightly even though you know you could have died. “I-I had some… uh… unfinished dreams to take care of.”
Your mother doesn’t look too pleased with your answer, but she lets go.
Paula’s voice is suddenly heard in the silence that follows,
“Bruno? Why are you wearing two gloves?”