Monaco Grand Prix
Location: Monte Carlo, Monaco
Date: Mar. 18
Track: Circuit de l'Étoile (Stellar)
Luca felt a deep sense of fulfillnt as he realized that he was now a Sunday racer, no longer just a Saturday competitor in Formula 2.
The weight of this transition truly hit him on Friday, qualifying day, because in F2, qualifying sessions were traditionally held on Thursdays.
However, this wasn't just any qualifying session. This would be his first ti experiencing the new format that the FIA had announced during the Prize Giving Gala.
They had introduced it as a well-practiced system, now set to beco the primary qualifying format for Formula 1 moving forward.
It was one of the many fifteen changes proclaid that night.
This qualifying was divided into three elimination rounds:
Q1 (18 minutes): All 20 drivers set their fastest laps. The slowest five are eliminated and placed P16 to P20.
Q2 (15 minutes): The remaining 15 drivers battle again, with another five eliminated to lock in P11 to P15.
Q3 (12 minutes): The top 10 drivers fight for pole position, determining the front of the grid.
The unique thing about this qualifying format was that it didn't use an alphabetical order system to determine who went first because no one was actually "going first."
Instead, the format followed a quick structured knockout system, where all drivers participated in tid sessions as ntioned above.
Anyone could choose to go out within that set ti to chase the fastest lap. A driver's exit onto the track would likely be backed by team strategy, as teams would consider track conditions, weather, and traffic before sending their drivers out.
There would be no lineup or grid, but the green light at the pit lane would signal when the track was open for the lap challenge, the ti ticking.
Luca and the team drove to Monte Carlo to participate in the qualifying session. They got there early, the first team to arrive, around 11 AM.
To pass the ti, they decided to hold their Track Walk on the sa day, walking through the track that ran through the streets of Monte Carlo and La Condamine, two of Monaco's key districts.
They started from the pit lane, moving farther away from the Start/Finish line.
Luca smiled as he walked along, rembering every single thing from last year when he finished P2 right on this very circuit.
It felt close, yet unreachable, as if that was a different tiline.
Mr. Berry and his fellow engineers understood it was necessary to inform both Luca and Rodnick about the loopholes and advantages they had discovered in the qualifying format.
Luca, eager for so real team action, listened closely as Mr. Berry spoke asuredly and carefully.
The team visited all four checkpoints, starting with Casino Square before moving on to Fairmont Hairpin, the Tunnel Section, and the Swimming Pool Complex before returning to the Start/Finish line.
The Swimming Pool Complex was a nice view that bordered the now only chicane in Stellar, near the Monaco Harbor. It was the single construction made by the FIA according to their plans for expansion.
Circuit de l'Étoile didn't have many grandstands, so at least the few set up there could accommodate even just one thousand or two.
By the ti the team returned, other teams had arrived and were already setting things up.
The marshals began to make the track clear and safe, ensuring no debris or obstacles remained on the racing line.
Barriers were checked, escape routes were confird, and the final safety inspections were completed under the watchful eyes of FIA officials that filled the streets.
1 PM
Luca felt a slight tinge of nervousness. His first real taste of F1 action was about to begin. It was only natural to feel a bit on edge.
Everyone was ready, and he had never seen the garages this tense before.
Faces were set with stiff focus, chanics moving with urgency, engineers murmuring final adjustnts into their headsets.
The atmosphere was thick with nothing but anticipation, and very soon, fuel and rubber.
Luca knew this was the season's first qualifying session, but if he could offer a piece of advice, it would be to lighten up just a little.
It almost felt like the crew mbers of rival teams harbored more hostility toward one another than the drivers themselves.
He had just exited the uniform room, now fully suited in Jackson's colors, as he joined his team in their final strategy discussions.
For a brief mont, his eyes drifted toward Squadra Corse's garage.
There stood Antonio Luigi, clad in black and silver with gold accents, casually sipping electrified water while speaking with his engineers.
2nd place.
Luca pictured Luigi's expression when he had inevitably realized he wasn't winning the championship, that Rodnick would be the one to take it all.
Luigi had to be an incredible driver. Possibly ruthless. A wild card. Because Luca couldn't picture a composed, disciplined racer losing control and crashing into a boy marshal.
He wondered if Luigi even rembered that incident. Had he ever asked about the boy, if he was okay afterward?
"...Attention all teams and drivers. The qualifying session for the Monaco Grand Prix will begin in twenty-five minutes. Please ensure your cars are prepared and positioned accordingly..."
The air was a bit chilly, a strange contrast to the heat of the mont.
Luca rubbed his palms together, about to head back into the garage when sothing on the pit lane caught his eye.
He halted mid-step, straightened up, and squinted. He wasn't a machine, but he didn't need to be because he recognized them instantly by the suits they wore.
Eleven Trampos Racing crew mbers stood in the distance, staring at him like lifeless statues.
Luca recognized McCauley amongst them, Derek, Sandy, a girl he knew very well and a little plump figure—Sam.
It felt as if he saw a ghost but wasn't terrified because he knew the ghost was present but didn't expect it to appear and startle him.
He wished they'd stop looking at him like that, like lost ducklings staring at their mother duck.
"Luca, co on, head over here," a chanic called from the garage.
Luca nodded, his eyes flickering around briefly before he muttered under his breath.
"Fuck," he cussed.
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