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F1 AIE Chapter 1

By: Serrated on Apr 13th, 2012 | syntax: None | size: 6.55 KB | hits: 469 | expires: Never

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-Authors note-
The first few chapters of this story were written pre AiE thread 100. The quality improves later on. Trust me.
>The anticipation,
>The adrenaline,
>That’s what you feel staring at those start lights hanging above the track.
>At any moment, those lights will signal the start of the United States Grand Prix
>It’s November, and you’ve been racing in Formula One all this season.
>But the feeling never changes; this is what you live for.
>The speed
>The power
>The gravitational forces pulling on you at every turn
>It never gets old.
>Sitting in the car, qualified 4th, you start thinking to yourself.
>You’re sitting in a marvel of human engineering
>0 to 100 kph in 1.7 seconds
>Oh god, that feeling of immense acceleration
>You couldn’t wait for it.
>Aerodynamics that make it seem like you’re driving on a rail
>…until you punch the throttle too hard coming out of a turn.
>Make sure not to do that today.
>Looking around, you observe the drivers beside and in front of you on the grid.
>Red Bull got another one-two start. Fucking Vettel
>Webber is alright in your book, but Seb just gets on your fucking nerves.
>You’d love to sacrifice your front wing on his tire to blow it out, make it look like an accident.
>Nah, that’s just childish.
>You have a race to win
>And going in the pits on lap 2 to get a new front wing would shatter that chance.
>You look to the car beside you, an exact copy of the car you’re driving.
>Looks like you and your teammate are starting 3rd and 4th.
>How he got a faster lap time than you in qualifying you’ll never know.
>You then look at the rear wing of his car and chuckle to yourself.
>You two, being the bronies you are, placed small decals of your favorite p0nies’ cutie marks on each side of your rear wings.
>The top corner of his wing sporting three small diamonds, top corner of your wing showing off a very badass looking greyscale thunderbolt.
>They’re small enough so the television cameras can’t catch them that well. but big enough to see if you know where to look.
>Other drivers have noticed before, chastised you for it, but you couldn’t seem to find a fuck to give.
>In your mirrors, you notice an impressive sight.
>Ferrari, McLaren, and Mercedes cars are situated behind you.
>How your team, brand new to Formula 1 in 2012, is faster than Ferrari, McLaren, and sometimes Red Bull, still baffles everyone who follows the sport.
>Is it the cutie mark decals?
>Yeah, it’s not the hours upon hours of car designing, wind tunnel tests, and simulator time.
>It’s the fucking p0ny stickers.
>Speaking of car design, your team didn’t go the way of the platypus like the majority of the teams did.
>Thank fuck.
>Fucking duckbill nosed F1 cars.
>Yours and McLarens cars are the only ones on the grid that look normal.
>Suddenly, red light.
>Oh shit here we go.
>The inaugural Grand Prix at the Circuit of the Americas is about to begin
>little do you know, you’re not even going to complete one lap.
>700+ HP V8 engines start revving up.
>You rev yours a few times, shuddering at the feeling of such insane power.
>and it’s all yours to unleash when the lights go off.
>The second of five lights light up
>The third
>Fourth
>Your teammate gives you a thumbs up
>You return the gesture
>All five lights are blazing
>You rev close to the red line, getting ready to let go of the clutch
>As does everyone else as the entire grid screams with power.
>A few more agonizing seconds, and the lights go off.
>You blast forward
>Towards a stalled out Webber
“SHIT”
>Lightning quick reflexes take over your arms and you successfully swerve past the immobile Red Bull machine
>Barely missing the right rear tire by centimeters
>No one else hit him either, lucky guy.
>Like the pro racer you are, that little predicament is instantly forgotten as you focus on the first turn ahead of you.
>You speed ahead and… ah there it is, that feeling of acceleration you are so in love with.
>No woman could please you like this car could.
>First turn coming up an… Holy shit, your teammate got inside of Vettel!
>Go you glorious bastard go!
>He brakes late, takes the turn smoothly, and guns it out of the corner in a wide arc that almost cuts Seb off into the grass.
>You see this coming out of the corner.
>“I bet he didn’t like that.”
>You start to catch up to the two cars in front of you as you navigate the esses with precision.
>All of a sudden, a large piece of front wing emblazoned with “Red Bull” fly’s past your helmet.
>No fucking way…
>They both go off the racing surface, your teammate spinning dramatically with a blown right rear tire and Vettel with insane under steer.
>That fucking twat took out your teammate in the same exact way you thought that you would take him out just before the race started!
>You’re so enraged that you don’t realize that the lead has been handed to you on a silver platter.
>That is until you reach the turn leading to the longest straight on the circuit.
>Holy fuck you’re leading the race
“Holy fuck I’m leading the race”
>That’s going to make this long straight so much more amazing
>Out of the corner, ease on the throttle, and hold on!
>The engine sings its powerful song as you shift though the gears.
>This feeling.
>This fucking feeling right here.
>It’s so glorious you almost hate the corner coming up for taking the feeling away from you.
>But you’ll be back here at least 50 more times, so it’s not that bad.
>So you think…
>Here comes your braking point
>Smoothly press th… wait… FUCK…
>You’re not stopping, your brakes have gone out…
>”SHIT, SHIT, SHIT, SHIT”
>Your throttle seems to be stuck too…
>”AW FUCK ME!”
>You’re hoping to god that the gravel runoff area will slow you down enough to where your neck doesn’t snap when you hit the wall.
>HAHA LOL NO, don’t you remember? This is a Hermann Tilke designed track! This runoff area is solid asphalt!
>Fucking Tilke…
>Speeding towards the wall you don’t notice that the cutie mark decal you placed is starting to… glow?
>Yeah you’re too focused on imminent death speeding at you at over 200 mph.
>Fuck, this is it then huh?
>You brace yourself, hoping that all the safety features in the car at least allow you to live.
>You can kiss your legs goodbye if you do live though.
>This is gonna fucking hurt
>Just then, the decal glows intensely
>just before you hit the wall, an outside force completely envelopes your car
>And in an instant you disappear, machine and all, off the face of this planet.

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-Authors note-
The first few chapters of this story were written pre AiE thread 100. The quality improves later on. Trust me.





>The anticipation,
>The adrenaline,
>That’s what you feel staring at those start lights hanging above the track.
>At any moment, those lights will signal the start of the United States Grand Prix
>It’s November, and you’ve been racing in Formula One all this season.
>But the feeling never changes; this is what you live for.
>The speed
>The power
>The gravitational forces pulling on you at every turn
>It never gets old.
>Sitting in the car, qualified 4th, you start thinking to yourself.
>You’re sitting in a marvel of human engineering
>0 to 100 kph in 1.7 seconds
>Oh god, that feeling of immense acceleration
>You couldn’t wait for it.
>Aerodynamics that make it seem like you’re driving on a rail
>…until you punch the throttle too hard coming out of a turn. 
>Make sure not to do that today.

>Looking around, you observe the drivers beside and in front of you on the grid.
>Red Bull got another one-two start. Fucking Vettel
>Webber is alright in your book, but Seb just gets on your fucking nerves.
>You’d love to sacrifice your front wing on his tire to blow it out, make it look like an accident.
>Nah, that’s just childish. 
>You have a race to win
>And going in the pits on lap 2 to get a new front wing would shatter that chance.
>You look to the car beside you, an exact copy of the car you’re driving.
>Looks like you and your teammate are starting 3rd and 4th.
>How he got a faster lap time than you in qualifying you’ll never know.
>You then look at the rear wing of his car and chuckle to yourself.
>You two, being the bronies you are, placed small decals of your favorite p0nies’ cutie marks on each side of your rear wings.
>The top corner of his wing sporting three small diamonds, top corner of your wing showing off a very badass looking greyscale thunderbolt.
>They’re small enough so the television cameras can’t catch them that well. but big enough to see if you know where to look.
>Other drivers have noticed before, chastised you for it, but you couldn’t seem to find a fuck to give.

>In your mirrors, you notice an impressive sight.
>Ferrari, McLaren, and Mercedes cars are situated behind you.
>How your team, brand new to Formula 1 in 2012, is faster than Ferrari, McLaren, and sometimes Red Bull, still baffles everyone who follows the sport.
>Is it the cutie mark decals?
>Yeah, it’s not the hours upon hours of car designing, wind tunnel tests, and simulator time.
>It’s the fucking p0ny stickers.
>Speaking of car design, your team didn’t go the way of the platypus like the majority of the teams did.
>Thank fuck.
>Fucking duckbill nosed F1 cars.
>Yours and McLarens cars are the only ones on the grid that look normal.
>Suddenly, red light.
>Oh shit here we go.
>The inaugural Grand Prix at the Circuit of the Americas is about to begin
>little do you know, you’re not even going to complete one lap.

>700+ HP V8 engines start revving up.
>You rev yours a few times, shuddering at the feeling of such insane power.
>and it’s all yours to unleash when the lights go off.
>The second of five lights light up
>The third
>Fourth
>Your teammate gives you a thumbs up
>You return the gesture
>All five lights are blazing
>You rev close to the red line, getting ready to let go of the clutch
>As does everyone else as the entire grid screams with power.
>A few more agonizing seconds, and the lights go off.
>You blast forward
>Towards a stalled out Webber
“SHIT”

>Lightning quick reflexes take over your arms and you successfully swerve past the immobile Red Bull machine
>Barely missing the right rear tire by centimeters
>No one else hit him either, lucky guy.
>Like the pro racer you are, that little predicament is instantly forgotten as you focus on the first turn ahead of you.
>You speed ahead and… ah there it is, that feeling of acceleration you are so in love with.
>No woman could please you like this car could.
>First turn coming up an… Holy shit, your teammate got inside of Vettel!
>Go you glorious bastard go!
>He brakes late, takes the turn smoothly, and guns it out of the corner in a wide arc that almost cuts Seb off into the grass.
>You see this coming out of the corner.
>“I bet he didn’t like that.”
>You start to catch up to the two cars in front of you as you navigate the esses with precision.
>All of a sudden, a large piece of front wing emblazoned with “Red Bull” fly’s past your helmet.

>No fucking way…
>They both go off the racing surface, your teammate spinning dramatically with a blown right rear tire and Vettel with insane under steer.
>That fucking twat took out your teammate in the same exact way you thought that you would take him out just before the race started!
>You’re so enraged that you don’t realize that the lead has been handed to you on a silver platter.
>That is until you reach the turn leading to the longest straight on the circuit.
>Holy fuck you’re leading the race
“Holy fuck I’m leading the race”
>That’s going to make this long straight so much more amazing
>Out of the corner, ease on the throttle, and hold on!
>The engine sings its powerful song as you shift though the gears.
>This feeling.
>This fucking feeling right here.
>It’s so glorious you almost hate the corner coming up for taking the feeling away from you.
>But you’ll be back here at least 50 more times, so it’s not that bad.
>So you think…

>Here comes your braking point
>Smoothly press th… wait… FUCK…
>You’re not stopping, your brakes have gone out…
>”SHIT, SHIT, SHIT, SHIT”
>Your throttle seems to be stuck too…
>”AW FUCK ME!”
>You’re hoping to god that the gravel runoff area will slow you down enough to where your neck doesn’t snap when you hit the wall.
>HAHA LOL NO, don’t you remember? This is a Hermann Tilke designed track! This runoff area is solid asphalt!
>Fucking Tilke…
>Speeding towards the wall you don’t notice that the cutie mark decal you placed is starting to… glow?
>Yeah you’re too focused on imminent death speeding at you at over 200 mph.
>Fuck, this is it then huh?
>You brace yourself, hoping that all the safety features in the car at least allow you to live.
>You can kiss your legs goodbye if you do live though. 
>This is gonna fucking hurt
>Just then, the decal glows intensely
>just before you hit the wall, an outside force completely envelopes your car
>And in an instant you disappear, machine and all, off the face of this planet.

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