🏎️💨 The seven times world champion winner, Lewis Hamilton is lost. After a horrible race day and a very bad argument with his Mercedes Team, the pilot got lost somewhere in northen Italy. His car got broke down and he got saved by a young italian...
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Off the way.
🏎️💨
- The things that I lost here, the people I knew They got me surrounded for a mile or two The car's in reverse, I'm grippin' the wheel I'm back between villages and everything is still
The car had stopped in a cloud of dust. The braking had been abrupt and sudden, and it was only thanks to his personal preparation that he was not thrown into the cockpit like a puppet. He slammed his hands on the steering wheel, furious that the escape was over so early: he wanted to drive to the end of the world, as far as possible, away from everything and everyone.
But in fact when he opened the seagull wing door, of his shiny black Mercedes AMG SLS, he realized that perhaps his wish had in fact come true. He was in the middle of nowhere: open yellow countryside, isolated, under the scorching sun of a sulty end of July. The dirt road had damaged a tire, causing it to explode, and the smoke coming out of the front hood did not promise anything good.
He passed a hand over his face, furious more with himself than with the car. It was a very bad idea. He wasn't usually so impulsive, and that's why: To act by being governed by anger or emotions in a negative way, you never end well.
But it had been a pretty awful day, at the end of a pretty awful week that was part of a pretty awful month during a pretty awful year.
He had simply wanted to drive until he forgot everything, until he freed his head from any thought. He wanted to feel free. But now he was just feeling... more angry.
He took off his Prada sunglasses, and rubbed his eyelids with his fingers, as he looked at that luxurious Mercedes, now completely dusty, that seemed to make fun of him, reminding him that deep down at that moment they looked like each other: Two champions now dented and offside.
He leaned into the passenger compartment of the car and leaned inside to grab his own iPhone. His English bulldog, comfortably sitting in the passenger seat with his belt fastened, barked to attract attention.
«I know, it was bullshit.» he admitted, as he unlocked the phone screen with his fast fingers: «be patient, Roscoe. Now I'll make a phone call and sort everything out.»
But just as he was about to press the green button to call his father and get picked up, sending him the location, the phone died.
« oh no! No, no, no...» exclaimed Lewis looking at the now completely black phone screen that simply reflected his alarmed expression. He tried to revive it by pressing the screen over and over again and pressing the power button on the sides, but it was all useless. The battery died, and he was lost who knows where, somewhere in northern Italy.
