Apex Ch 01 1

The Oxford Dictionary states that an apex is:

The top or highest point of something, especially one forming a point.

The highest point of achievement; a climax.

And in motorsports, it is the point in turning a corner when the vehicle is closest to the edge of the track. 'Hitting the apex' means turning the corner as fast as possible by taking the shortest and fastest line. Hit the apex on every turn during a lap and you're on a bloody good one.

'Apex' is also the title of the fourth studio album of the band 'Unleash the Archers'. An absolute fucking banger of an album that cemented my adoration for the band.

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A/N - Hello, dear readers. It's me again, back with another series. Having finished writing and uploading 'League of His Own', a series that focused on my first favourite sport, rugby league, I thought that I'd give my other favourite sport the same treatment. I'm a petrol head and watch numerous categories of motorsport, though to be more specific, my favourite is Formula One.

The popularity of the sport has exploded in recent years thanks to the Netflix series 'Drive to Survive'. I've been watching the sport full-time since 1992 and had taken an interest in it before that, primarily thanks to my grandfather. I don't particularly like the path the sport has taken in recent years. A sign that I'm just getting old!

This story is starting in this category as I think most of the people who follow me are aware this is one of my favourite categories to write stories for. But to keep at least an element of realism, it simply cannot remain in this category in many other future chapters. Therefore, like my series 'The Marine', it is going to jump about quite a bit after perhaps one or two chapters in this category.

For those who might be fellow enthusiasts, though this story is set in the modern day, it is very much inspired by events of yesteryear (the 60s, 70s and 80s). The historic teams. The courageous drivers. The danger. The thrills. The spills. Death lurked at every corner. Getting through a season without a driver being seriously injured was rare. The technology was rather simple. Some of the tracks were incredibly dangerous. Some of the drivers were international playboys.

I've thought about writing a story involving Formula One since the first few stories I uploaded, and I figured it was simply time to bite the bullet and give it a go. There's going to be drama. Politics. Romance. Sex. Success. Failure. Death. Sorrow. And triumph.

I've added a couple of author's notes in the body of the text to explain one or two things.

Finally, because I know I've droned on, but this first chapter is going to cover his first couple of years climbing the ranks towards Formula One, with the second and third chapters continuing that same focus. I intend to have the fourth chapter as starting his journey in Formula One.

Australian / British standard English. There is a good chance of reading the following: lots of profanity, characters drinking, typos, and bad grammar at times.

Proofreading and editing suggestions for this and all future chapters provided by OhDave1. Any mistakes are still mine.

Comments are appreciated as always.

Feedback by email is always welcome. Enjoy chatting with anyone who likes my work.

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Before making the big time, a driver must learn the ropes.

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The office I was sitting in next to my mother was rather dull. The walls were only covered in a couple of pictures of Formula One cars. A nearby bookcase was full of titles, mostly in Italian, and a couple more framed pictures. The desk in front of me held a laptop, a lamp, a pen and inkwell, another framed photo though it was facing away from me, and there was nothing else. A potted plant rested in two corners. There was a lounge behind me.

The man opposite me behind the desk was what I would call distinguished. Well-dressed though I'd expect nothing less from an Italian, even if he was the owner of a small Formula One team. To my left was my mother, and to my right was a local lawyer that my mother suggested we bring with us. She might have been a financial advisor, but this contract would be the first of my life that I would be signing that could end up paving the way to me becoming a Formula One driver.

"You're sixteen now, Marco," Giancarlo stated, "The Minardi Formula One team will support you for the next five years until you are legally allowed to join the Formula One grid."

(

A/N - No such rule existed but I've made the minimum age 21 for the purpose of this story. As of 2024, the minimum age to race in Formula One is 18. Some call this the 'Max Verstappen Rule' as he made his debut at the tender of 17.)

"But I'm still going to need at least a little sponsorship, right?"

"We can certainly help you with that. The team will provide a little funding before you make the step up to the big leagues. If you start cleaning up in the junior formula then sponsors will come knocking, looking to provide sponsorship. It'll mostly be from the tobacco industry, so they won't start approaching until you're eighteen."

"Do we have to sign now?" my mother asked.

"Of course not. We know this is a big decision. Take the contract, return to London. I know Marco..." I was legally christened as Mark back in Australia. This was Italy. I was always going to be referred to as Marco whenever I was in Italy. They knew my background. "I know Marco has already signed the contract for his first season in Formula Regional. Should he win that at the first time of asking, I will ensure he is on the European Formula Three grid the season after with a very good team. We'll discuss which team for Formula Two in a year or two."

"We'll take the contract home with us and certainly have a response for you within a couple of days, Giancarlo," my mother stated, "Everything looks above board, but this is obviously an important decision for my son."

"Of course, of course. The one thing that will definitely be of interest to you is the testing work that will be available once he is eighteen. He's not legally allowed to race, but he is allowed to test Formula One machinery at that age. Three years of being able to test will be the perfect way for him to get ready for the real thing."

Mum slid the paperwork into her briefcase before we stood up, everyone shaking hands before we were escorted downstairs. Another round of handshakes before Mum led the way outside to the hire car. Although I'd been racing go-karts since the age of five and had been racing single-seaters since I was fourteen, I was still only sixteen and had only recently obtained my learner's permit. That meant my mother still drove me around most of the time.

We always found it amusing that I could fly around a circuit in a single seater, sometimes doing upwards of 200km/h, yet I wasn't trusted enough to drive a car around at 50km/h.

"Your Italian is always excellent, baby," Mum stated once we were on the road back to Bologna airport, "How are your French and Spanish coming along?"

"I'm comfortable with French," I replied in the language, "But still struggling with some Spanish," I added in that language.

"I guess all those years speaking Italian with your grandmother... And me most of the time..." She took my hand and smiled. "You want to sign the contract, don't you?"

"Although I'm going to have to wait a few years, to drive for an Italian team would be great. No chance I'll get a chance at driving for Ferrari at an early age, and Minardi is everyone's second favourite team anyway."

"We'll review the contract when we get home, and if you're happy, we'll sign it and send it back. But what you need to do is two things for now. Make sure you keep up with the schoolwork your tutor assigns you and keep yourself nice and fit. You're testing with Prema next month and it's your time to impress. First the championship back home in January before we return to tackle Europe. It's going to be a long year."

Landing in Heathrow a couple of hours later, we returned to our small two-bedroom apartment, Mum immediately opened her laptop to catch up with some work while I wandered off to my bedroom to continue with the work my tutor assigned me. On the bookshelves were plenty of trophies that I'd won over the years, most of them in karting either in the United Kingdom or across Europe. As soon as I was legally allowed, I stepped up into single-seaters, racing in the Formula Four series in both the United Kingdom and Italy. Mum had been worried that I was spreading myself too thin, but I think I'd done rather well.

The championship trophy that I had sitting next to my bed for winning the series in the United Kingdom was testament to that.

Lying back after finishing a little bit of work, I closed my eyes and daydreamed.

*****

I have a rather simple name. Mark Jones. I was told from a young age that someone by the name of Mark Jones was never going to make it as a Formula One driver. If I were Marco Jonisi, then perhaps I would have that chance. But an Australian with an ordinary name without any real sort of backing was never going to make it.

And those words were from my now estranged father.

My father never really provided any support. It was all my mother with my mother's father and mother. Mum was a true-blue Aussie at heart, as was my maternal grandfather. My maternal grandmother? Totally Italian. Spoke with an Aussie accent most of the time, except when she was excited or angry. Then she was a full-blooded Italian with all the hand gestures one would expect. Her parents were Italian immigrants, my maternal grandmother was a dual national even though she had been born in Australia. And it was thanks to her that I had been able to obtain an Italian passport and could remain in Europe without a problem.

I didn't know all that much when I was competing in go-karting competitions in Australia, but Mum was doing all the research possible. When she realised that staying in Australia wasn't the right path to take and that moving to the United Kingdom would certainly help open doors, she sat the family down and told us her plan.

"We need to move to Europe," she told my father and older sister, "John, your son is going to be a world champion. He's ten years old and already grinding kids who have five years more experience into the ground. The team he drives for knows how good he is. They know he's going to be wasted here. I agree with their suggestion that moving to Europe is the right thing to do."

"He could make a perfectly adequate career driving in the Supercars Championship," my father replied.

"He wants to drive in Formula One and I want to give him every opportunity to get there. Staying here will not help him. The United Kingdom is the centre of motor racing in Europe. Most of the Formula One teams are based there. The junior teams are dotted around Europe. His knowledge of Italian will help him when he's working his way up the ladder."

"I'm not quitting everything just for some pipe dream," my father stated.

Mum scoffed before she turned to my sister. "What do you think, Candice?"

My sister glanced between my mother and father a couple of times before looking at me. "I don't want to leave, Mum..." Then she smiled at me. "But I know how good Mark is. Mum, maybe I can stay here with Dad..."

"No," I said, getting up and walking around the table to hug my sister. I was ten, she was fifteen. I felt her hug me back, kissing the top of my head. I knew my little sister adored me. She would come to nearly every race I competed in.

"Mum's right, Mark," Candice whispered, "I've been to see plenty of your races. You're already so good. And if you want to be the big motor racing star, staying here won't help you achieve your ambition."

I heard my Dad sigh, releasing my sister to stand next to my mother. He looked between us before he threw up his hands. "If you choose to go, our marriage is done," he warned.

"Fine," Mum retorted before she turned to Candice, "I'd love for you to come with us, sweetie, but I understand that you don't want to leave behind all your friends. We can figure out visitation once I'm settled in the United Kingdom with Mark."

"That's it? No further discussion?" my father retorted.

"Frankly, John, I know for a fact that talking to you about this will be like talking to a brick wall." She paused before I felt her arm around my body. "And I also know all about Stacy."

"Who?" Candice wondered.

Mum put her hands over my ears as I watched my sister's jaw drop and my father look rather embarrassed before it quickly turned to anger. He was up and out the door, hearing him yell a couple of insults in the direction of my mother. Even at my tender age, I was surprised that my mother wasn't upset. In fact, she looked rather relieved by everything.

We were in the United Kingdom by February early the next year. Mum organised for my sister to remain with our maternal grandparents as she refused to remain with our father once the truth of what he'd been doing fully came out. Mum had left anything to do with the divorce in the hands of a family lawyer and had otherwise sorted out all the financials with him. From the little I knew, my father was perfectly happy to wash his hands of all of us.

I was sixteen at the start of this story. I haven't heard from him since we left Australia.

Until the time I turned fourteen, I spent nearly every weekend travelling around the United Kingdom or Europe to compete in go-karting. It's the testing ground for every young driver, whether male or female, and it's where you learn the basics of driving and racing, in addition to learning the mechanics of the machine that you're racing.

The last couple of years I spent go-karting involved travelling around Europe having won everything I could win in the United Kingdom. I would compete in various national championships in addition to European-wide competitions. At times, it felt rather isolating as it was only me and my mother, and once we were traversing Europe, Mum ensured that I had a tutor with us to ensure my schooling didn't take too much of a backseat.

My tutor was definitely my first crush. Her name was Adriana, and she was an Italian living in London. She was only twenty-six when I was thirteen. She was fluent in English and Italian, and could teach me French, Spanish, Maths, various science subjects, and was also a confidant and quickly became my best friend outside of the few friends I made in the paddock. I'd rarely been to school back in the United Kingdom, Mum relied on a couple of tutors over the years, and even homeschooled me herself when it was necessary.

I guess because of all that, Mum and I were now incredibly close. I was half-asleep on my bed when I felt her sit on the side of my bed, trying not to smile as I knew she was going to leave a big, wet kiss on my cheek. That's exactly what happened, opening my eyes to see Mum lovingly gazing down at me. Her blue eyes were behind the lenses of her glasses. Her brunette hair was up in a ponytail. Mum always dressed to impress, with red lipstick and faint make-up applied, and she hadn't changed out of the blouse, jacket and skirt she'd been wearing for our trip to Italy.

"Do the work Adriana sent you?"

"Some of it."

"Good. Complete the rest tomorrow. She won't inundate you too much before we fly out to Italy for your test. Once we're on the road again for Formula Regional, she'll be with us full-time to make sure you keep up with it."

"Have you thought about Christmas as we'll be back in Australia come the first week of January?"

"Would you like Adriana to come over for Christmas lunch?"

Mum was teasing me, of course. She knew all about my crush though I'd never said a word. I was just the typically awkward teenager around a beautiful young woman. "Well, if she's not doing anything... You know..."

Adriana did come and join us for Christmas dinner. Mum cooked a ham and a turkey; Adriana was incredibly helpful. I even managed to do a couple of things. It was a great day, the three of us stuffing ourselves with food, Mum and Adriana enjoying more than one bottle of wine. When she left, Adriana gave me a long cuddle, letting me know she was very excited about heading to Australia with us for a couple of months before we would spend at least six months in Europe.

After a quiet new year as I was asleep before midnight, and Mum was in her bed at the same time, we flew out and back to Sydney a couple of days later. We were greeted at the airport by a team member from my new team, Prema. They were an Italian-based squad who had teams in most junior formula categories from Formula Regional to European Formula Two, and even had squads that competed in sports cars and touring cars.

A Formula Four car is a rather simple piece of machinery. In the United Kingdom, every car used a Ford Ecoboost engine. 1.6 litres capped at 160 bhp. Standard ECU. H-pattern gearbox. Everything is standardised, and it was up to the set-up the driver wanted and then his skill behind the wheel.

A Formula Regional car is slightly larger than a Formula Four car. In the European championship, I would be powered by an Alpine (Renault) engine. 1.8 litres capped at 270 bhp. In the Tasman championship, I would be powered by an Alfa Romeo engine with the same capacity and brake horsepower as the Alpine in Europe.

My meeting with Minardi had taken place before my flight to Australia. I had signed the contract and wore a little Minardi Formula One Team emblem on my clothing on the other side of my chest where the Prema emblem was located. No one under eighteen was allowed to wear anything with the emblem of a cigarette brand.

Those first couple of laps I did at my first test at Sydney Motorsports Park were an eye-opener. An extra 110 bhp certainly makes a difference. The Pirelli tyres provided much more grip than the Avon tyres I'd been using in the United Kingdom. The car felt lighter and was easy to throw into the corners. Once I was confident that the car wasn't going to drive me into a wall, the team were quickly giving me feedback, pitting occasionally to go over the data, before I had my helmet on and I was back on track putting in the laps. By the end of my first day, I was in the top ten and the best rookie.

After a debrief with my two engineers at the end of the day, and some encouraging words from the team manager, Mum drove us back to the hotel that was organised for us. And that's where my big sister was waiting for me. I hadn't seen her in over a year and she burst into tears upon seeing me. We hugged for what felt like hours before my grandparents appeared and I found myself hugged by my grandmother for an equal amount of time. My grandfather shook my hand before he needed a hug too.

"I'm guessing that you're hoping to not get any taller," Candice stated at dinner.

"Five-nine would be about perfect. I just need to build up my core strength, and once I'm in the big time, make sure that my neck muscles can handle all the G-forces."

"Have you enjoyed it so far?" my grandmother wondered.

"The best decision Mum ever made for me was moving us there. Seeing my name in the likes of Autosport is such a big thing. I'm still nowhere near Formula One, and being completely realistic, the chances of me making it are still incredibly slim. But signing the contract with Minardi will hold the door open just enough for me to possibly slip through when the time comes."

Spending two months travelling around Australia and New Zealand was great fun. Mum was by my side the entire time, and Candice was with us during January and the Australian leg. An event was held every weekend, so there was a lot of travelling involved. And being the only Australian driver on the grid who was currently competing in Europe, though there was plenty of local talent still on the grid, there was quite a bit of interest in me.