In daily driving, in rain or snow, your tires can easily slip and lose control. This is why snow tires or chains are necessary. It's the most common example of a loss of grip.
In Formula racing, this demand for grip is magnified a thousand times. Even on a dry track, grip is the single most decisive factor affecting a car's speed and stability. If the tires can't hold the road, a car at 300 km/h can become an out-of-control rocket, with unimaginable consequences.
Every racing tire has an ideal "working temperature window." Within this range, the friction between the rubber and the tarmac is optimal, and the car's handling and acceleration are at their peak.
If the temperature is too low, the tires are "asleep" and can't grip the road. If the temperature is too high, the tires will rapidly degrade, blistering or delaminating, and their performance will fall off a cliff.
The life of a tire follows a trapezoidal curve: a gradual climb to reach the working window, a stable plateau, and then a sharp decline as they overheat. If they aren't changed, the performance will drop until all grip is lost.
Therefore, a top-tier driver must learn to manage their tires—to find that golden window and keep the tires in it for as long as possible. This is especially true in "push mode," when tire temperatures skyrocket.
This is why, before a race, you see all the tires in the pit garage wrapped in "tire blankets"—which work just like electric blankets—to keep them in their working window. It's also why drivers weave aggressively on the formation lap, trying to generate friction and build heat.
Even so, for the first few laps of a race, especially on hard tires or a cold track, the tires are still not in their optimal range.
In this state, the car lacks grip. The driver must be delicate, managing the throttle and steering, trying to find a rhythm. It's in this uncertain phase that you can truly see a driver's car control and sensitivity.
And that was exactly the situation now.
At the start, all four drivers were on equal footing. Their tires were cold; the single, sub-three-kilometer formation lap at Fiorano wasn't nearly enough. With very little grip, the cars all felt "light" and floaty. The racing line was everything.
Snap!
The instant the lights went out, Kai's feet moved on pure reflex, a perfect, high-speed ballet of clutch and throttle.
The tires screamed as they bit the asphalt. The red car launched, and before anyone could blink, Kai was already closing in on Zhou Guanyu's tail.
The grid at Fiorano puts P1 on the right and P2 on the left, meaning Kai at P4 was starting directly behind Zhou. Zhou's start was a fraction slower, and Kai nearly drove straight into his gearbox.
But Kai was calm. His eyes scanned both sides, looking for space.
The first corner was a right-hander, so the normal, cleaner racing line was to the right. The left side was covered in dust and debris, all of which could damage the tires or, worse, cause a loss of grip. Normally, everyone would fight for the right.
But Kai wanted to go left.
Yes, the left was dirty. But for that exact reason, he calculated that Armstrong, Zhou, and Alesi would all be jamming themselves to the inside. The outside would be wide open, allowing him to sweep around them all.
But he immediately spotted a detail—Zhou's car wasn't angling right to squeeze Alesi. It was going straight.
Great minds think alike. Zhou was also planning to go around the outside of Alesi.
Aggressive. Tough. Bold. The normally mild-mannered Zhou was a shark on the track.
In that split second, Kai realized his path was blocked. He would either crash into Zhou or have to brake so hard he'd lock up and spin.
In that thousandth of a second, Kai dabbed the brakes, a micro-adjustment, and yanked the car to the right, diving into the central gap between Zhou and Alesi, ready to fight it out.
The next second: wheel-to-wheel!
He was side-by-side with Armstrong!
Armstrong's start had also been excellent, just a fraction slower than Kai's. The young New Zealander, a typical academy product, had immediately aimed for the gap between P1 and P2, hoping to shoot the opening.
On one side was Armstrong, who had the line but was slightly slower. On the other was Kai, who had the faster reaction but had been forced to change his plan.
As a result, Kai's right-front tire was just inches ahead of Armstrong's left-front. They were locked together, about to touch.
Kai didn't lift. Armstrong didn't lift.
But just then, an obstacle appeared: Alesi.
Alesi, on pole, wanted to use his advantage to pull away, but he wasn't an idiot. He knew his tires were cold. He'd been watching his mirrors.
At first, he had defended the inside, trying to block the apex from Zhou. But when he saw both Zhou and Kai angling for the outside, he yanked his wheel to the left, aggressively cutting them off and going wheel-to-wheel with Zhou.
Zhou, who had just managed to get away from Kai, was now faced with Alesi. He instinctively jerked his wheel, which pushed his line even wider, forcing him to run half his car over the kerb.
It was absolute chaos.
And this is where Armstrong's "academy" nature was exposed. Despite his experience, he was still young. He was a "good boy," a sunshine-and-rainbows driver, not a street brawler.
He had aimed for the middle gap, but seeing Alesi's aggressive block, he was caught. Faced with a choice between a certain crash and a potential slide, Armstrong chose the safer option: he lifted.
He didn't brake, but he backed off the throttle.
In Kai's eyes, the car to his right suddenly fell back. A tiny, split-second seam had been torn open in the chaos.
An opportunity.
Without a fraction of a second of hesitation, Kai tucked his car in, diving into the space Armstrong had just abandoned, slicing between him and Alesi and cutting to the right.
Armstrong: ???
He was completely stunned, staring in disbelief at the car that had just materialized in front of him. He had to slam on his brakes to avoid hitting him.
And just like that, Kai had cut from P4, across the front of P3, and was now on the inside of P1.
Brake!
Kai braked at the absolute, terrifying limit, the car teetering on the edge of disaster, and dived into the right-hand corner. His tires bit the red-and-white kerb, and he emerged perfectly side-by-side with the pole-sitter.
Alesi looked over: ???
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