Don't Let Go: Day 11

Word Count: 66,050

Summary of Events:

Tor was allowed to go with his mother to the reading of Uncle Zikki's will, where he learned that Uncle Zikki had created a trust fund in Tor's name, from which he would be given an annual allowance toward his racing, but it still wasn't enough money. He learned from Madlenka that she'd gotten some good leads from her grandparents, but none of them had gotten back to her yet, so, with Orlanda's help, Tor departed for Italy, still missing over a quarter of the funding he needed. After notifying his team that he was in Italy — but without full backing — Tor was leaving the track when he was approached by a Czech man, who represented a Czech company that was interested in sponsoring Tor, if they could see him in action. Tor was granted dispensation by the officials to participate in a practise in order to be seen in action, while his Opa brought his Oma and his parents along when Tor asked him to come in hopes of an agreement being reached because they had all panicked and called the police when Tor and Orlanda hadn't returned from their hike. Immediately on the practise session beginning, Tor went out to do a flying lap without any other cars on the track . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

Reaching the main straight, Tor accelerated so that he was at top speed when he shot over the start/finish line, which started the clock for his flying lap.

Tor nailed the apex of all three of the opening corners — which were little more than soft curves, really — before racing down the short straight to the next two turns, which he also executed perfectly before he raced through the next soft curve toward the second-largest of the four hairpin-like turns of the track, which was at the end of the track’s longest straight.

Heading around the nearly 45˚ corner that led into the more complicated part of the track with another apex met perfectly, Tor then wove through the two softer curves that led into the second-smallest and smallest hairpins on the track, after which came two nearly 90˚ turns, and then finally, after a short straightaway, the largest of the hairpins, which led back to the main straight.

Tor didn’t slow down his speed at all, but decided to pursue a second flying lap consecutively.

“What was my time?” Tor asked.

“One thirty three point five,” his engineer replied. “One thirty three point five.”

“I’m doing another one,” Tor said.

“I suspected as much,” his engineer replied.

If Tor’s first flying lap had been perfectly executed, his second, he felt, was impeccably flawless, and he didn’t think there was anything he could possibly critique about it whatsoever.

Once he’d crossed the line the second time, Tor released the throttle and started on a cool-down lap.

“The officials might want to check our car,” his engineer said.

“Why?” Tor asked.

“You did the lap in one thirty point zero,” his engineer replied. “The lap record is one thirty two nine.”

“So you mean I have the new lap record?” Tor asked.

“Maybe,” his engineer replied. “So long as you didn’t exceed track limits or anything.”

“That lap was flawless,” Tor replied.

“Let’s hope so,” his engineer said.

“I’m boxing,” Tor said.

“Copy,” his engineer replied.

Tor hoped that he officially had the lap record — at least, for Formula 4, whose cars weren’t as fast as even Formula 3 cars, as they were supposed to gradually get faster until the fastest was a Formula 1 car, gradually getting the drivers used to more and more speed — he didn’t want to have exceeded track limits and gotten his time deleted, especially not when his career depended on it.

“Äh, unfortunately it’s not the lap record,” Tor’s engineer said as Tor rounded the final turn before the pit lane entrance.

“No!” Tor cried.

“You didn’t exceed track limits,” his engineer replied. “It’s perfect, it stands. Apparently it’s not counted because it’s not in a race. If you nail that kind of time in one of the races this weekend then it’ll be the new lap record.”

“Oh,” Tor said, feeling relieved. “It was perfect.”

“It was amazing,” his engineer agreed.

Pronunciation:

Äh: euh

Don't Let Go: Day 10

Word Count: 60,027

Summary of Events:

Tor contacted Alexa, Madlenka, and Uncle Zikki's best friend Arndt, to see if they knew of anyone who might be interested in sponsoring him. Unfortunately, Alexa informed him that none of Uncle Zikki's sponsors who didn't already sponsor Tor were interested in doing so because Tor wasn't planning on moving to the US to race. Arndt supplied Tor with the names of two startups that agreed to small deals, which was better than nothing, but Tor had heard nothing from Madlenka, and he had less than a week before he needed to get to Italy for his next race. He was, however, approached by his older sister, who made an offer to help Tor when it came to how he was getting to Italy from a practical standpoint…

Excerpt of the Day:

“Can you?” Tor asked.

“Ja,” Orlanda replied. “I’ve got some friends from school that live in Rome, and I promised I’d visit them this summer.”

“And you’ll take me with you?” Tor asked.

“Secretly, of course,” Orlanda replied.

“Of course,” Tor agreed.

“I’m thinking we tell Vater and Mama we’re going for a hike,” Orlanda replied. “Which we would do, but, instead of coming home, we go to the airport and fly to Rome.”

Tor nodded. “And then you would take me to the track or…?”

“Only if you need,” Orlanda replied.

“Okay,” Tor said. “You’ll be able to leave on Thursday?”

“Ja,” Orlanda replied. “And stay until Monday too.”

“Good,” Tor said. “I’ll make sure I’m ready.”

“But like a hike,” Orlanda whispered.

Tor nodded, smiling gratefully at Orlanda, who gave him a mischievous grin in return before leaving.

In terms of her actual sentiments about his racing career, Orlanda was generally neutral, not really having the most significant of interests in racing, but, at the same time, being willing to watch it and hear about it, but in terms of the ends it would accomplish, Orlanda was quite interested.

Orlanda was the one who had an interest in the company. She had devoured the subjects Tor was being forcibly tutored in with relish during her school years, and was actually in the midst of expanding her education in them at university.

Her original intention had been to get a position at the company, but her and Tor’s combined efforts to that end had met with little success; indeed, somehow they’d resulted in Tor getting disowned by Großvater — not that Tor minded not having anything to do with him, if he was honest — while Orlanda was still slated to receive an inheritance upon Großvater’s death.

Tor didn’t altogether understand why Großvater still meant to give something to Orlanda, considering he had been quite scandalised by the fact that she wanted to take over the company — and had rather loudly gone on about the proud history of the company having been handed from father to son from its founding in protest — but Tor didn’t really ponder the matter too much.

He was, however, grateful that Orlanda had become more determined than ever when her aspirations of getting work in the company at all — forget her aims to run it — had been so stoutly rebuffed to help Tor succeed in his racing career in a bit of revenge on Vater and Großvater for rejecting her, when she was twice as willing as Tor would ever be.

Even though Tor had never thought he’d see the day when Mama would fail him, the fact that he had Orlanda to fall back on — except when it came to getting a hearing with Vater, as she met no more success on that front than Tor did most of the time — was something he had to admit that he appreciated. Now all he needed was the money.

Pronunciations:

Arndt: awnt

Großvater: grohssfahteh

Don't Let Go: Day 9

Word Count: 54,051

Summary of Events:

Tor, having posted about his broken headphones on social media, was contacted by the manufacturers of the headphones, who offered to replace them for free with a set of the upgraded model that was coming out in a month's time, customised as he wished. Surprised and grateful, Tor accepted the offer before wondering if — considering he needed sponsors owing to his father's financial withdrawal — they might be interested in sponsoring him too. They expressed interest, so Tor directed them to Opa for more information while he continued to have to deal with massively unpleasant lessons with his tutor, as well as homework every night.

Excerpt of the Day:

Feeling a sustained vibration against his leg — which meant a phone call, versus a text message or some other notification — Tor gratefully put his pen down and withdrew his cellphone from his pocket to see that the caller was Opa. He headed away from the kitchen island and toward the back door as he answered the call.

“Hallo Opa.”
“Hallo,” Opa replied. “I’m pleased to inform you that you have a new sponsor.”

“That headphone company?” Tor asked, closing the back door behind him.

“Ja,” Opa replied, going on to inform Tor of the agreement they’d reached.

“Hoi,” Tor said. “I didn’t expect the numbers to be that big.”

“I didn’t either,” Opa admitted. “But we’re not complaining either.”

“Nein,” Tor agreed. “Not at all.”

“I have bad news too, though,” Opa said.

“Oh?” Tor asked.

“Your team called me,” Opa replied.

“Why?” Tor asked.

“Your father called them and told them that you won’t be participating in the remainder of either championship owing to the extreme level of grief you are suffering because of the death of your uncle,” Opa replied.

Anger flared in Tor. “You’d better have told them that information is utterly false.”

“I told them that we don’t want it to be true,” Opa replied.

“But it isn’t true!” Tor protested.

“Tor,” Opa said. “Your father’s cancelling of his personal and corporate financial support took away almost half your backing. The contract that was just signed doesn’t even make up half of what you lost. In your current financial situation, you’re not racing.”

Dropping his shoulders, Tor looked down at the stones of the patio, feeling as if Opa’s words had been a bucket of water that had doused the fires of anger he’d been feeling moments before.

“What do we do Opa?” Tor asked.

“You can get more sponsors,” Opa replied. “But, whether you’ll get them in time or not, is a completely different matter, especially considering how much you need.”

“How many sponsors the size of the one we just signed would I need?” Tor asked.

“At least another five,” Opa replied. “If they agree to larger deals, it could be less, but I wouldn’t really hold out any hope for one of those to come along in the timeframe that we have.”

Tor sighed. “I don’t want to miss a race Opa. I can’t afford to.”

“Sometimes that’s just how it is Tor,” Opa said soberly.

“But,” Tor said.

“I know,” Opa said. “But we can only do what we can, Tor, and if that isn’t enough, that isn’t enough.”

“I won’t let him force me to stop,” Tor said. “I will keep racing.”

Opa sighed, but said nothing.

“Thank you for letting me know Opa,” Tor said.

“You’re welcome Tor,” Opa replied quietly.

“Bye,” Tor said.

“Bye,” Opa replied.

Don't Let Go: Day 8

Word Count: 48,058

Summary of Events:

Tor decided he wanted to move in with his grandparents to escape his father's punishments, but his plan was thwarted when his Opa refused to come get him and his things and urged him not to work so hard to destroy his relationship with his father. Thus, Tor was forced to meet the tutor, whom he quickly got upset at, throwing his largest textbook at the tutor before going up to his room, where he held out against his father's efforts to get him back to his studies for over an hour. Eventually, however, his mother asked him to go resume them for her sake — and under her supervision — to which Tor begrudgingly acquiesced. Once the tutor was gone, Tor expressed his displeasure to his mother, while also apologising for the damage his textbook had done to the fence…

Excerpt of the Day:

“Danke, Tor,” Mama replied. “What did you do?”

“I threw the textbook at him,” Tor replied, pointing at the still-dirty book.

Mama looked at the book, a shocked look coming over her face before she looked up at him. “Tor!”

“He dodged the worst of it,” Tor replied. “I was aiming for his stomach.”

“Tor,” Mama scolded. “I know you have a temper, but you could have caused severe injuries.”

“I shouldn’t have to do this Mama,” Tor argued. “My marks are passing, which is all they need to be because I’m not going to need them for the rest of my life.”
Mama shook her head. “That’s no justification Tor.”

“Mama,” Tor pleaded.

“Don’t even start Tor,” Mama said sternly. “You will apologise to the tutor tomorrow for losing your temper at him.”

“He made me mad,” Tor protested.

“Conrad,” Mama said firmly.

Tor lowered his head. The invocation of his first name with Mama was much more serious than with anyone else.

“You have the ability to control your temper,” Mama said firmly. “And you must keep it under control, for you will live a more lonesome existence than even someone like you could stand if your temper controls you.”

“Ja Mama,” Tor replied quietly, keeping his head down.

Mama placed a gentle hand on his and he looked up at her to see her face was as tender and affectionate as ever.

“Danke Tor,” she said softly. “I know you don’t like the tutor, but that doesn’t mean that you are justified to have acted in a fit of temper in such a way that you could honestly have killed him.”

Tor sighed.

“Now how about we get this homework out of the way and then you can go back to your game?” Mama said.

“Do I have to?” Tor asked.

“Better now than later,” Mama replied.

“Why do I have to do it at all Mama?” Tor asked.

“It will make tomorrow easier Tor,” Mama replied.

“But I don’t want him to come tomorrow,” Tor protested.

“I know Tor,” Mama replied softly.

“Then why are you making me do it Mama?” Tor asked.

“Because the tutor has been hired to teach it to you,” Mama replied

“Mama,” Tor complained. “Why don’t you just tell Vater to sack him?”

“My little boy,” Mama said softly. “Darling, bitte.”

“Why?” Tor whined.

“Because your Vater has hired him,” Mama replied.

Tor looked at Mama with pleading eyes. “I don’t want to do it Mama.”

“You aren’t a puppy Tor,” Mama said. “Come, let’s go inside so I can make supper while you work.”

Tor made his most pleading eyes at Mama, even managing to summon a few tears.

“Enough Tor,” Mama said. “Doing some extra studying won’t do any harm.”

Quivering his jaw, Tor blinked repeatedly at her as she stood up.

“Stop that Tor,” Mama chided, tapping his nose firmly. “Bring your books, come.”

Sighing reluctantly, Tor got to his feet and picked up the books, carrying them into the house while Mama carried the tray with their empty bowls and used spoons toward the house.

Pronunciations:

Vater: fahtuh

Bitte: bihtuh

Don't Let Go: Day 7

Word Count: 42,056

Summary of Events:

Upon arriving home from Austria, Tor was informed by his mother that his father wished to speak with him immediately, so he went to see what his father had to say. To his shock, his father informed him that the family company's sponsorship and any other financial support his father had provided his racing career were being withdrawn immediately, as his father didn't want Tor to die racing. Tor, to his embarrassment, burst into tears at the news and fled to his mother, who didn't comfort and reassure him as usual, but told him she didn't want him to die racing either, prompting Tor to get upset at her. His sister confronted him about his actions, prompting him to leave the house, driving his father's car without any license to speak of — as he couldn't legally even have a learner's license yet — to his Opa and Oma's house. He talked with his Oma about the matter before being taken to the police station to face punishment for having driven illegally and returned home, where his father informed him he was forbidden to leave the house — except to go to the backyard for sunshine — for the rest of the month. Tor argued with his father about the matter until his mother fled in tears, prompting Tor to hurry after her, hugging her and apologising . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

“I was hurting Mama, and it was foolish,” Tor said. “I shouldn’t have said any of what I said to you earlier. I’m sorry, Mama.”

Sliding his left hand up from between Mama’s shoulders to reach the base of her skull, Tor pressed her head against his shoulder rubbing his forefinger against her scalp gently so that he didn’t pull the tender little hairs that hid down there, especially considering Mama had her hair done up like she usually did so that it didn’t get in her face while she was trying to take pictures, or get into her food when she was cooking.

“But I’ll never be happy working at the company Mama,” Tor said. “Nobody could ever do anything that could make me happy there.”

Mama shifted her head against his chest, prompting him to loosen his left hand’s press.

“Tor,” she whispered, her voice still trembling. “Please, Tor… don’t tell me that you have to keep driving a casket on wheels to be happy.”

Tor grimaced at Mama’s chosen term. “But it’s true Mama. I love racing too much to give it up Mama.”

“But isn’t there a different kind you could do?” Mama asked. “A safer kind?”

“Probably,” Tor conceded. “But I want to race in Formula One like Uncle Zikki, and to last there like he didn’t, to win the Driver’s Championship like Michael Schumacher and Sebastian Vettel. Besides Mama, no one has died in Formula One in six years.”

Shaking her head, Mama pressed her hands against Tor, who loosened his hold on her reluctantly, meeting her tear-filled blue eyes with his own.

“It’s still too dangerous, Tor,” she replied.

Tor had nothing to say. He knew it was dangerous to be a racing driver. Racing history was strewn with the bodies of men who had died well younger than they could’ve, had they not been men, like he, whose hearts thrilled at the sound of a powerful engine, and the feel of it propelling them forward at unfathomable speeds, among whom now lay Uncle Zikki.

“I’m sorry, my little boy,” Mama whispered. “I have too much fear.”

“I’m sorry too, Mama,” Tor replied softly, not breaking his gaze with her. “But I have to do it.”

Mama closed her eyes and sobbed. Tor drew her back close against him and leaned his cheek on her head as she wept. His tears slid silently, those from his left eye sliding down the side of his nose and across his upper lip heading down to his jaw, those from his right heading for his ear, but getting absorbed by Mama’s hair before they could reach their destination.

He wasn’t surprised that Mama was afraid, as she was so much like Oma, and Oma had been afraid of losing Uncle Zikki for years, but he couldn’t quit racing just because Mama was scared. He couldn’t even quit because he was scared — and there were a few times where he had been scared to get into a racing car, or to keep racing — he had to race.

Pronunciation:

Schumacher: shoomahker

Don't Let Go: Day 6

Word Count: 36,008

Summary of Events:

Tor managed to finish in the points positions in the first two races of the weekend, and hoped to maybe even capture a podium in the final race, as he was starting closer to the front than he'd started in those two races. A first lap incident helped his cause by advancing him from P13 to P6, and Tor then gained P5 by the driver ahead of him pitting quite early, prompting him to set his sights on the next driver ahead of him, the arrogant Italian…

Excerpt of the Day:

It was the catching up to Valerio that would be the greater challenge, as Valerio was a genuinely fast driver, even if his defensive skills were lacking, and Tor was sure that if he was told that someone was closing in on him, he’d push even harder, which would make it hard for Tor to gain on him.

Nonetheless, Tor was pleased when his engineer informed him over successive laps that he was gaining, even if only by the smallest of increments, on Valerio, whom he was starting to be able to see on the track ahead of him for longer and longer periods of time.

A glance toward his pit board as he surged down the main straight, however, made Tor’s heart sink.

On one hand, it displayed that he was 1.9 seconds behind Valerio, but on the other, it bore the instructions that he was to box next lap for new tires. Tor was sure his were in good enough shape to carry on past Valerio, where he could have a push lap before diving into the pits, but the team obviously had other ideas.

“Do I have to box this lap?” Tor asked. “Can’t I get past Valerio first?”

“Box this lap please,” his engineer replied. “Box this lap.”

Tor was annoyed, but he pushed as hard as he could in hopes that he might be able to undercut Valerio in accordance with team orders, and even force Valerio to pit in an effort to ward off his attempt, even though in the case of Valerio, passing on the track wasn’t often much more difficult than an undercut strategy — or an over-cut one, for that matter.

On the final straight before the sweeping curve that led into the pit lane, Tor felt his car vibrating massively, suggesting there was something wrong with one of the tires, but he didn’t dare let off the throttle, it wasn’t like he wasn’t close to the pit lane entrance.

“I have massive vibrations,” Tor reported.

“Copy, that’s why you’re boxing,” his engineer replied.

Tor rounded the curve when suddenly the rear end of his car snapped. He let off the throttle and fought for control, as well as to aim his car into the pit lane he was massively grateful to be so close to.

Once he was safely in the pit lane, Tor slowed down to a crawl, making his way toward the team’s pit box, where the mechanics and fresh tires were waiting for him. He saw in his rearview mirrors as he crawled along that it was his right rear tire which had blown, which made sense with the way his car had snapped.

Arriving in his pit box, Tor put his car in neutral while the jack men jacked him up and the other mechanics rapidly replaced all four of his tires before he was dropped down and allowed to drive out of the pit lane feeling a lot more balanced in his car.

Don't Let Go: Day 5

Word Count: 33,013

Summary of Events:

Uncle Zikki's funeral was held, during which Tor cried extensively — and, thus, was grateful that Uncle Zikki had wanted his pallbearers to wear their racing suits, complete with helmets, as it allowed him to keep the fact that he was crying so much hidden. Nevertheless, in a matter of days he was in Austria, where, after going out for lunch, he and his girlfriend, Madlenka, they then went on a hike, on which she asked him if he wasn't afraid to die, to which he replied that he wasn't, for racing was his life, and dying doing it wouldn't be a big deal; this, however, made Madlenka react with hurt and walk away from him…

Excerpt of the Day:

Taking long, brisk strides to catch up to her, Tor caught a gentle hold of her hand.

“I love you, Lenka,” he said as she stopped and turned to look at him.

She didn’t look like she believed him. He took up both of her hands.

“I really love you, Lenka” Tor said, even leaning in and kissing her right cheek softly. “But racing is what gets me out of bed every morning. You, on the other hand, would do a far better job of keeping me in bed.”

A small smile showed Madlenka understood the jovial intent of his closing sentence, even though he wasn’t able to make it sound as jovial as he’d meant.

“Even still,” Madlenka said, her smile fading. “I feel like you’re rushing back to being normal, or trying to rush back, and not taking the time to grieve, the time that you need to grieve. Don’t try and force yourself to be okay if you’re not just to pursue winning the championship. I know you’re a competitor and that you want to win not just the race, but the greater prize, but…”

“If you want me to be okay, then I need to race Lenka,” Tor said. “I can’t be okay without racing.”

Madlenka didn’t look terribly convinced, but she merely sighed before looking toward the trail ahead of them. Tor released one hand and they fell into silent step together onward.

As much as losing Uncle Zikki was one of the worst things Tor had ever had happen in his life — and far worse than the worst thing he’d ever wanted to have happen in his life — it was not so bad that it would make him turn away from racing in any way; not merely because Uncle Zikki wouldn’t have wanted him to stop or to be afraid, as Uncle Zikki had been one of the number who’d believed that, of the two of them, Tor was actually the better, more talented driver, and had believed that for that reason, chiefest of all, Tor would enjoy a more successful motorsport career than he had, but because he didn’t know what he would possibly do with his life if he didn’t race.

He could do without his cellphone, his video games, his family, food, anything, but he couldn’t be without racing, and not even the fact that it had taken from him one of the most dearest and beloved people in his life was going to stop him from continuing to do it.

It wouldn’t necessarily be easy, especially as he got to points in his motorsport career where he was more visibly following in Uncle Zikki’s footsteps than he was at present, but Tor didn’t know how he could possibly be alive without going racing, it just didn’t compute.

Maybe he was rushing back, but Tor didn’t think it was for the reason everyone thought he was. He wasn’t rushing back out of fear of losing the championship; he was rushing back because he didn’t know how to possibly live — especially in the face of the loss he’d suffered — without it.