Ten seconds. In daily life, it's barely enough time to take a sip of coffee. But in racing, a ten-second gap is an eternity. It spans entire classes of performance.
You only see gaps like that in these underdeveloped regional championships. In any serious spec series, the field would be packed tight, tenths of a second separating the grid, not postal codes.
By afternoon, scrutineering was complete, and the entry list was finalized. The drivers with free time were already out on track for unofficial practice.
"Liam, something came up at the firm. I have to head back," Arthur said, looking apologetic after hanging up a call.
"It's fine, Dad. Go handle it," Liam smiled.
"Alright. Be safe out there." Arthur patted his son's head and hurried off.
"Busy man," Mr. Chen remarked, watching him go.
"Yeah." Liam nodded. The fact that his father had taken time out of his schedule just to get him registered meant a lot.
"You sure you don't want to get some laps in?" Mr. Chen asked.
"No thanks." Liam shook his head. He'd put in plenty of seat time over the last month.
"Suit yourself. Get some rest tonight."
Leaving the track, Liam headed back to the hotel and flopped onto the bed.
Ah, finally some peace and quiet.
Knock knock knock!
He hadn't even gotten comfortable before someone was banging on the door.
Who is it?
If it was Mr. Chen, he would have just called out.
Liam checked the peephole and saw a familiar face.
Click.
"Martina? Louise? What are you guys doing here?" Liam opened the door.
"Hello, my dear Liam. Arthur was worried about leaving you alone, and since I happened to be in Portside on business, he asked me to check in on you," Martina beamed.
"Nee how! Liam!" Louise shouted, butchering the Mandarin greeting with impressive confidence.
"Hello, Louise." Liam ushered them inside.
"Her pronunciation is... unique," Martina teased, setting down a small overnight bag. "I hope you don't mind if Louise and I crash here? We got a suite down the hall, but we wanted to say hi."
"Not at all. Thanks for coming," Liam smiled. His dad was worrying about him being lonely again. He didn't realize Liam had been used to solitude for a very long time.
"Mamma! What are you saying?!" Louise looked between them, desperate to join the conversation.
"Oops. I forgot little Louise doesn't understand," Martina feigned shock.
"Hmph! Mamma, you have to translate for me! I want to talk to Liam too!" Louise stomped her foot, a little diva in the making.
"That won't work. You haven't paid my translation fee. If you want to talk to him, you better study your English," Martina countered.
"Argh! It's too hard! English is impossible!" Louise wailed, looking defeated.
"Sorry about that," Martina said to Liam.
"It's fine." Liam scratched his cheek. She really assumes I understand everything, huh?
"Liam, if you're serious about becoming a racing driver, I strongly suggest you come to Italy with us," Martina said suddenly, her tone shifting.
Liam paused. He hadn't expected the topic to pivot so quickly, but it aligned perfectly with his own thoughts.
"Don't worry about it tonight. Focus on tomorrow's race first," Martina added.
"Okay."
Since race day started early, lights out came quickly.
The next morning, after the driver's briefing, Liam and his mechanic fueled up the kart, collected his tires, and finalized the setup.
Qualifying practice began from the pit lane. Drivers would complete an out-lap, and once they crossed the start/finish line, the green flag would wave, starting the clock.
Although it was called "Timed Practice," the format was effectively a flying lap session. You had ten minutes, but usually, only three hot laps counted.
On this track, ten minutes was enough for ten laps easily, so most drivers would peel off after their three flyers were done—usually in four or five minutes.
The buzz of two-stroke engines filled the pit lane.
"Safety first," his mechanic reminded him.
"Liam! Jia you!" Louise shouted, butchering another Chinese phrase she'd apparently picked up just for today.
"Drive well. Be safe," Martina nodded.
"Got it."
Liam flipped his visor down, hit the gas, and the kart rolled out of the pits.
Obeying the pit lane speed limit, he merged onto the track, weaving left and right to put some heat into the tires. Click-clack went the steering rack.
Just then, a kart plastered with sponsor stickers pulled up alongside him. The driver flipped his visor up, stared at Liam for a second, and then VROOM—sped off ahead.
That was Linus from yesterday.
Liam didn't know what his game was, but he kept his guard up.
Specification karts had two plastic impact bumpers on the front. If you hit someone, they fell off. Lose one, and it was a 5-second penalty.
Per the rules, it didn't matter why they fell off—contact was contact. And you couldn't reattach them during the session. Try that, and you'd get a black flag and a disqualification.
Vroom! Vroom!
One by one, karts completed their warm-up lap and started pushing. Two minutes in, the first valid times hit the board.
46.232
"That's Ryan's time. Better than last year, but he's still just pack filler," a coach muttered.
"Sigh," his father exhaled.
Whoosh! Whoosh!
Three more times popped up.
46.565
46.211
45.556
"45s! Kyle, let's go!" a young woman clenched her fist.
"He needs more. A 45 won't get pole," the coach shot her down.
Whoosh!
44.201!
"Who is that?!" A parent gasped, looking at the timing screen.
"Zach! Last year's runner-up! He drives for Speedsters."
Since most of them had been racing for a year or two, the familiar helmet livery gave it away.
"So fast!"
"Yeah. If my kid could run that, I'd die happy."
"Hey, look at that kid. Who's he? Still driving like he's on a Sunday cruise."
"Dunno. Probably a rookie. Saw the crowd and got scared."
"Heh."
Whoosh!
Another kart crossed the line.
44.200
"Hiss! Look at that gap!"
Someone sucked in a breath. A difference of 0.001 seconds? That was pure luck.
"Tyler. Also from Speedsters."
"Figured. Those two are in a league of their own this year. Nobody else is close."
"Yeah, but they're moving up to Junior class next year. Maybe my kid has a shot at the podium then."
Off-track, parents watched anxiously while coaches scribbled notes, ready to debrief their little drivers.
As the top times were set, the atmosphere in the paddock buzzed.
Louise leaned over the railing, her eyes tracking Liam's kart. She was getting frantic.
"Mamma! Why isn't he pushing yet?! If he crosses the line now, it's his last lap!"
"Why are you more nervous than the driver?" Martina facepalmed. Then, a teasing thought struck her. "Little Louise, do you have a crush on Liam?"
"Eh?!" Louise's arms went weak, and she nearly slipped off the railing. She puffed out her cheeks. "Mamma! Don't say weird things! I... I..."
Her eyes darted around, and she grasped for an excuse. "You said it yourself! Big brothers protect little sisters, so... so little sisters have to worry about big brothers too!"