Pit Lane Persephone

Chapter 17: Seb

Sunday, October 13 – Race 16: Sachsenring, Germany

The rain begins to fall on lap eleven.

I've already worked my way up to second place with Dai in my sights when the first drop hits my visor. By the next corner, my tires are losing grip on the increasingly wet surface, and I give up trying to gain ground to focus on keeping this position. Runoff soon starts to cover the inside corners, and my Ducati leaves a thick spray of water in its wake. My gloves are soaking through and the rest of the leather suit will soon do the same, but I care less about comfort than safety.

My setup is based on dry conditions. The rain not only forms a dangerous barrier between my slick tires and the asphalt, but also cools the carbon brake rotors. Cool discs aren't as effective, so I'm happy to see the white flags come out. This is a rare chance to change bikes, which I'll definitely take today.

A bunch of other guys are also heading into the pits, but there's little room for strategy in my decision. Risking a crash by going for another lap with subpar grip just to avoid the jam isn't worth it. We'll all switch to our secondary machines more or less at the same time, then make up lost seconds together. Only the riders who started the race with wet tires and steel rotors won't go out. With the mixed forecast, they'd gambled on rain and won. What time they lost with a less-than-ideal initial setup for the earlier dry conditions can be made up while we're in the pits.

Nearing the Cadmium box, I can see the techs with my other bike. It has to be mine because Lauren is already on her spare. She had started the race on it, losing her primary one to the crash on Friday afternoon. Nigel originally thought a few hours' work would repair the damage, but a crack in the frame forced him to pull the bike out of rotation. With no other options, my teammate started today with intermediate tires and steel disc brakes. They're worse in the dry than what I have, but now that the track is wet, the setup will give her an advantage until I make the switch.

I pull to a stop in front of the open garage, drop my left boot to the ground, and swing my right foot over the seat. Enzo grabs the handlebars from the front, and I seamlessly hand over the machine before getting on the other idling bike right next to it. Checking for traffic, I shift into first gear and pull into pit lane.

I've lost about twenty seconds—twenty-five tops, which is a lifetime in such a fast-paced competition—before rejoining the race with three others. We reach turn one at the back of a pack that didn't pit, and unless I make a move now, I'll be stuck following until the circuit opens up. My rain tires feel steady and I gain two spots overtaking from the outside on turn two. The next slow-going right and three left-handers aren't ideal for overtaking, so I pause the push.

I'll have a better shot on the straightaway between seven and eight, the weather just needs to hold. While the rain had started off in intermittent, large drops, it's now more of a light drizzle. If it doesn't get worse again, we will get to run all of the remaining sixteen laps. Otherwise, the race can be called off as early as after the next five. If I want to finish on the podium, I have to pass at least ten others within that distance.

I lean into the corner, the spray from the bike in front hitting my visor. The beads flow down the smooth plastic thanks to a special water repellent coating, but more take their place. Looking past the droplets, I straighten out of the turn ready to begin the advance, but I cross a puddle and lose traction in the rear. As the back tire skids across the wet pavement, I shift my weight and add gas to regain control.

The slight error is just enough to leave the door open for my pursuers. Martin and Kojima—on the number five and nineteen machines, respectively—slip through on the inside, but I close the gap before anyone else can. God, I hate rain.