Page 4 of Speed Crush

With food, this good and company this easy, maybe a little treasure of my own wouldn’t be the worst thing.

A few weeks off the grid after Mega Max Velocity Park Grand Opening? Fishing, camping, even sky-diving. Honestly, it's already starting to feel like the smartest move I’ve made for my off-season schedule.

Lily sets her knife down and looks at me earnestly. “Thanks again for agreeing to help out with the indoor winter camp, Noah. I mean, you’re a literal Formula One world champion—international circuits, champagne podiums, the whole glamorous package. And now you're here, helping us launch our Mega Max and then volunteering to coach at its first event, a winter go-kart camp for the older teens.”

“Yeah, buddy. I really appreciate you spending your off-season here,” Levi pats me on my back. “The whole town's been waiting for this. We wanted someone the older kids could actually learn from—and they’re excited as hell to have a real Formula One driver coaching them.”

I nod. “Go-karts are where it all begins. One of these kids could be the next Formula One driver. And I’ll be honored to be the one who inspire him or her.”

Lily tilts her head. “Did you start with go-karts too?”

"Yeah. I was ten. Tiny outdoor track just outside Milan—my parents flew us in to see where my grandfather used to race. The sound of the engine, the way the kart responded—I was hooked. After that, they basically dropped me off at that track for the next two summers while they worked in California. I mean… I had the best time. It was just me, the karts, and the mechanics. I didn’t mind."

I glance at Levi. “Back then, it was just karting—no data feeds, no engineers watching throttle traces from halfway across the world. Just me, the kart, and whatever instinct I had. That’s what I loved. What got me hooked—long before F1 ever entered the picture.”

“And now?” Levi asks.

"Well, F1 racing is another different animal altogether. We've got wind tunnels, tire degradation, battery management systems, energy recovery systems, DRS zones, complex aerodynamics, so on and so forth."

“But still, I’m very curious to check out your modern, indoor go-kart facility." I say.

Levi leans forward. “You still think about the F1 classics?”

I pause, a wistful smile tugging at my lips.

“Every time I get behind the wheel,” I admit.

"Honestly, I miss the sexy roar of a proper V12. Nothing sounds like it. And now, with the shift towards electric, that visceral growl is becoming a thing of the past."

“Back then, the engine sang. Now it hums politely. Efficient, quiet. A tad boring.”

Lily grins. “You’re sound like an old man at twenty-eight.”

“Careful,” I warn. “Next thing you know, I’ll be rambling about how fuel mapping used to be an art form before the algorithms took over.”

“Please don’t,” Levi mutters into his glass.

Lily laughs. “Anyway—fair warning. The media is sniffing around about you. We tried to keep it focused about the track, low-key, but…”

“...you invited Noah Verelli, Formula One world champion,” I finish. “Yeah, I get it. Low-key was never really in the cards. But hey, that’s kind of the point of launching the world’s first one-mile indoor kart track.”

“We appreciate it, Noah. Really.”

"Buddy," Levi adds, "after the Grand Opening appearance, you'll have the whole go-kart camp to ease into small-town life. Fishing. Snowfall. Bowling. And maybe a chance to sway a population that still thinks I'm the town celebrity—when they get a load of you."

“Don't listen to Levi,” Lily grins. “You, Noah Verelli, are all everyone’s been talking about lately.”

I raise a brow. “You mean the town knows who I am?”

“The whole town’s pretty invested in making Mega Max a success, so I’m sure they’ve done their research on who’s who. More importantly, they know you drive fast, win big, and look good doing it,” she says.

“And they’re very excited to meet you,” Levi adds, deadpan. “Especially Amy Bello, my physiotherapist. She asked if you’re single. She also asked if you moisturize.”

“Tell her I exfoliate, too,” I say with a grin.

They laugh. The kind that fills the space like it belongs there.

I finish my eggplant parm dinner, lean back in my chair, and exhale slowly.

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