Driven (From Swindon Advertiser)

Driven

11:19am Monday 25th October 2010 in Literary Corner

Engines revving up….

Smell of fuel, misfiring engines roaring.

Expectations of pole soaring.

Feeling the electrons rush through my synapses.

The World outside the starting grid collapses.

3...2...1...Green Light, Go!

Goodbye Pits, Goodbye Paddocks, But with immediate lack of concentration, “ Hello tyre wall, Thanks for helping me crash and look like a ‘Wazzuk.’ ”

Steering back onto the racing lines… Split second decision - Shift gear, Brake, turn into chicane, accelerate - No fear?

Pick up the confidence (or stupidity) ; increase velocity.

Barriers approaching (my own fault) ; returning anxiety.

Front wing pierces the air at ‘Scary MPH’.

Weaving rear wings in front there for me to devour.

I’m so close to winning.

All I need is to overtake 10 cars, Then go flat out for 5+ laps, Easy Peasy if I weren’t so queasy.

Now impossible to overtake the flurry of cars in front of mine.

Frustration seeping through my helmet all the time!

Leading drivers at the front of the pack, Disappearing into a blur for me, stranded at the back.

I now know I am 2 minutes away from chucking my crash helmet and flame-proof racing overalls to the ground.

Aggressively reverberating in my head “Nice one me, you’ve let your sponsors down, your family down, but most importantly you’ve let yourself down.”

The adrenaline’s own race in my body speedily slows.

Chequered flag violently attacking the wind, past it my sub-standard car mows.

The fans are still cheering but I don’t know what for, I walk back to the pits, unable to move my head from staring at the floor.

By Callum Anger, 16, New College