Banging Wheels by Natalie Banks Page A

them, but even they had their limits.
    After what seemed like an eternity, Ozzie came back in with some news.
    “Rain’s here to stay, so we have to go.”
    She wriggled back into her own vehicle to the sound of Drake’s car being fired up next to her, before it settled down into a low, menacing rumble. It was show time. The revs changed and he pulled away, the flashing red taillight — obligatory in wet weather — beating like a pulse as he left the safety of the garage and went out into the storm.
    Drake had set the second fastest time in the dry qualifying run, while she was only fourth. She’d never raced on this particular circuit before, so she’d had to learn all the lines and braking points. You don’t just think, “Oh, I’ll brake now”; you find the optimal braking point and then use a reference point as a reminder of where it is. It could be the marker board telling you how many yards it is until the corner, or something less obvious like an advertising hoarding or a particular tree. You always find something. But it changes subtly as your fuel load lightens through the race and your tires get worn. And it changes drastically with the rain. At least that was something of a leveler — they’d all be guessing somewhat on that first lap or two.
    Now it was her turn to head out. The familiar low level braraaaaarp of the engine resonated through the garage as her engineer started the car and she blipped the throttle. It was time to go. She exited the antiseptic fluorescent lighting of the garage and headed out into the gloom.
    The sky was an evil shade overhead. She loved driving in the rain, but there was something ominous about this. She felt a shiver as she headed down pit road. Soon they were circulating, ready for the off, the treaded tires spitting water about at a low level, but as they came onto the straightaway and hit full speed, all that changed. Suddenly, the tires were ejecting water in huge arcing plume, creating a wall of spray behind each car. The cars in front vanished behind an opaque screen of water.
    They were away.
    The rain pelted her overalls and coursed back from the front of her visor in jagged rivulets. At these speeds, rain doesn’t appear to fall — it just hangs in the air waiting for you to collect it.
    She slithered around the first corner, adjusting to the grip levels, matching up fuel weight with cold tires and water levels. She was checking ahead and checking her mirrors, but in all directions it was just a watery void. Most normal people put in this situation would be grateful to make it around a circuit like this intact. But racing drivers are a special breed. It’s not enough to survive — you’re looking to compete, to excel, to win.
    At only the third corner, she met with an incident — as she made a smooth turn to the left, her instincts told her to straighten up, which she did. Suddenly a car out of nowhere came sliding past her on the inside, completely out of control, brakes fully locked, exiting the track in a half-spin. Adrenaline fully flowing now, she eased back onto the line — sudden movements get punished in this weather, as whoever that was had just proved.
    Ahead of her was only spray — the water thrown into the air by Sam Daniels’ car. She knew that because she spotted a flash of yellow from his car in the slower corners, but otherwise it could have been anyone. Behind her... who knew? Her mirrors were just full of her own spray. Anything could be going on. Each time she came into the slow, hairpin bend, she took a moment to look across and get a feel for the spread.
    Now it was time to attack. This was a winnable race for her, and she needed to take every chance she could. Drake wouldn’t be letting up — that was for sure — and these were the conditions that favored her. She had to make the most of them.
    In these conditions, you don’t drive by looking forward so much as sideways, using your knowledge of track-side buildings, trees and