Saudi Arabia: FP3 and Qualifying: This is Our Chance!

The sun was NOT shining as Hunt returned to the waking world. Outside, it was a dreary day, with an overcast sky and moderate amounts of rain. 'Today's the day,' He thought. 'Today's the day I beat him. At the end of today, my name will be our highest. It's all or nothing.'

As he started his morning routine of getting changed, brushing his teeth, and making breakfast. He started mentally planning his day. First, he would work with the team to set an ideal lap time, and then he would work to get there. Along the way, he would finally top his teammate.

Breakfast consisted of porridge with strawberries and an egg sandwich. It was all topped off by a cup of freshly brewed coffee.

Wolfing everything down, he quickly grabbed his wallet and phone before leaving his hotel room. It was there that he ran into his friends.

"Good morning," He greeted them.

"What's up?" Albon replied.

"Not much, you guys wanna ride?" Hunt offered.

Albon looked over at his two companions and said, "Sure!"

The car ride was in comfortable silence, with most of the group either half asleep or mentally preparing themselves for the day ahead of them.

Finally, the car pulled up to the circuit. "We're here," Hunt said, breaking the silence.

"Thanks," Lando said before getting out.

"You're welcome."

Hunt and George parted ways from their friends and headed towards their garage.

"Good luck," George said to Hunt.

"Thanks," he replied.

And with that, the session began for the two drivers.

"Good morning, mate. I hope you slept well; you're going to need it." Mark greeted. "Come on over; we need to set a target goal. Yesterday during FP2, your fastest lap was 1:29.597. Let's aim for a 1:29.0. We expect everyone to speed up by about a second, so that's a good target time."

"Alright." Hunt replied, "If it's not too much, can you tell me what George's target time is?"

"Let me go check," Mark said before looking through the data. 'George's target lap is a 1:28.8."

'Two-tenths is the difference.' Hunt thought to himself. 'That's doable.'

"Thanks," Hunt said before he remembered something else. "Oh yeah, I forgot to ask. How's the weather? Is it going to be slicks or interns?"

"It looks like slicks but could cross over to inters at the end. Qual looks to be dry, but that could change. Better get some dry laps before it starts getting too wet."

As he climbed into his car, Mark came over the radio.

Mark: You know the drill. Radio check! Radio check!

Hunt: loud and clear.

When Hunt's mechanic signaled that it was clear for Hunt to exit the garage, Hunt stepped on it and peeled out.

The feel on the track was as you would expect for an overcast day; the track was cold and the tires took longer than usual to warm up, hence the need for Hunt to do many burnouts before he felt that the tires were up to temperature.

As he rounded the final corner, he stepped on the gas to begin his first push lap. His first lap resulted in a respectable 1:29.4, a 2-tenth drop from his fastest lap in FP2.

Mark: That was a 1:29.4; a good lap. That was 2 tenths faster than your best lap in FP2, and you need to drop 4 more tenths to hit our target of 1.29.0.

Hunt: Copy.

As Hunt was getting more and more dialed in, his lap times were dropping. At the end of the session, Hunt ended up P7 with an end time of 1:28.929, dropping 7 tenths of a second from his FP2 lap time.

Mark: Ok. That's it; the session is over. You are now P7, and your time is 1:28.929

Hunt: YES! Where's Russell?

Mark: Russell is P6 with a time of 1:28.864.

Hunt: Congratulate him for me, please.

Hunt was thrilled; this was the closest he had come to beating his teammate. He was sure that the next time he ran in qualifying, he would finally place ahead of his teammate.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Post Practice

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

As Hunt jumped out of his car, his mood was soaring.

"Don't you look happy?" His engineer remarked. "What's gotten you so pumped?"

"I just got closer to completing a personal goal," Hunt said nonchalantly. "Anyways, what's the plan?"

"We're going to look over some footage and data to see if we can make any improvements."

"Alright."

After reviewing data and footage, the team concluded that Hunt was set for qualifying; there were some places where time could be found, but those were addressed fairly quickly.

"Good luck with whatever your personal goal is," Mark said.

"Thanks," Hunt said with a smile.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Qualifying 1

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

As Hunt was putting on his overalls, he was planning how he'd want his qualifying to go. First, he would drive the first two sessions like normal, aiming to get to the next session. Then, for Q3, challenge Russell's position. Finally, in the dying moments, swoop in and deliver a knockout blow and take Russell's spot on the timing tables.

"Hey, Hunt? You there?" Someone tapped him on the shoulder. It was George.

"Yeah, I'm here." Need something?" Hunt asked.

"Nah, I'm just here to tell you good luck; there are some mighty quick drivers out there. Don't be too discouraged if you're not as high up as you were in FP3."

Hunt nodded and thanked him.

As Hunt climbed into his car, he thought about George's little speech. He shrugged it off.

Mark: You know the drill.

Hunt: Yep, loud and clear.

Mark: Copy.

Hunt peeled out on a set of softs looking to just push enough to get through without putting too much wear on his tires.

After finishing his outlap, he geared up for his flying lap. It was a tiddly lap, not pushing too hard, he made sure to save tires where he could but still aiming to be within about a half second of the fastest lap. The time landed him P4 as not many people had run yet. However, by the 5-minute mark of the session, his lap was only good enough for P12. Deciding that it was too risky to leave the lap as is, he drove for his final lap in Q1 and moved his car up to P9 and firmly securing a spot in Q2,

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Qualifying 2

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As Q2 rolled around, Hunt thought everything was going to plan. However, when he was ready, the world told him no.

"Hunt," Mark said to him, "Unfortunately. one of your earlier runs damaged a part of the floor, our team is working to mend it. But that will take time."

After 10 minutes, Hunt's team had successfully fixed the floor and Hunt was on his way. His lap had to be a good one, and he delivered. His lap was clean until a small lockup put him onto a non-ideal line. This little mishap lost him about 2-3 tenths of a second. This placed a what would be P6 lap, down in P9, and in contention to be knocked out of Q2. In the end, fate was on his side and he barely squeaked into Q3 at P10.

Hunt: Phew. Sorry for that guys.

Mark: It's ok. Just. Y'know. Don't do that again?

Hunt: No promises.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Qualifying 3

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

The floodlights were shining brightly as Q3 officially began. The goal was to get out early on a set of used tires and set a burner lap to get a feel for the evolution of the track. After all the early laps of Q3, the times were Hunt in P8 and Russell in P7. After a few minutes passed, as no one wanted to be the first on track, Like at Monza, slipstream was the defining factor between setting a fast and a slow lap.

However once people decided it was now or never, traffic was quickly becoming an issue.

Hunt: What the **** are we doing? Are we going to go or what?

After there was little to no time left on the clock, Hunt decided he would lead the pack before time ran out.

Accelerating down the straight, Hunt started his final flying lap of the session. Into turn 1, he nailed the breaking zone and turned in for the apex. It was quickly met and he set his sights on the next corner. After completing the series of corners, he rocketed off to the next set of corners and the fast left and right sections demanded concentration from the driver. After that came turn 13 a long left-hander that emptied into another fast left and right section. It was in this section that everything went horribly wrong.

As Hunt turned the wheel in for Turn 16, his front right tire clipped the inside wall, sending his car flying across the track and then hard into the wall. Hunt's Q3 was over.

Hunt: ****! ****! ****! ****! NO!

Mark: Are you ok?

Hunt: ****! Sorry guys, Yeah I'm OK.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Post Qualifying

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As Hunt walked into the Garage, he was fuming. He almost had it, and then he blew it.

"****!" He screamed before flinging his helmet into the wall across from him.

"What the hell was that for!?" Mark said.

"I'm just…frustrated, I've been trying to beat Russell at something this past weekend and it just hasn't worked out. It irritates me. No matter how hard I try I can't seem to beat him."

His engineer started laughing. "Good one there, William. Beat Russell? Over one lap? Do you even know who your teammate is?"

"What do you mean?"

"George Russell was known as Mr. Saturday. He would drag even the worst cars well above where they should have been. Hell, he even once got a Williams into Q3. You'd have a better chance of winning a bullfight than beating George over one lap. Tell you what, instead of beating George over one lap, try to beat him in championship points. Now get going; we've got a lot of work if you still want to race tomorrow."

"Thanks for the advice," Hunt said before leaving.

As he pushed open the door to his hotel room, he sighed. He had overdone it; he let his emotions get the better of him and planted his car in a barrier. Now he was staring down a tough challenge. Tomorrow, he told himself he would not let the same happen.