Pitlane Powertrain.

Lights red.
Tracks Baren.
Final checks done.
Electronics ON
Ignition ON
Starter ON
and just like that, the entire soundscape is consumed with the soundtrack of internal combustion engines. Everything goes mute for a second. All is tuned out. Your senses are heightened. You feel the gentle idle reverberating through the car, down your spine, in your feet. The smell of oil and rubber, filtering through your nostrils- each individual smell distinguishable, but barely. The track runs though your vision, every corner, bump, elevation change, all memorised to the last undulation. You tighten, then loosen your grip on the steering wheel.
Your jaw clenches, heart rate soaring. On the surface you’re calm, barely sweating, no shakes. Left leg twitches on the clutch, ever so slightly, but to you it feels like it’s resonating through the car almost cutting the engine. Sensations heightened. You’re ready. Are you ready? Yes. No. Yes.
No hesitating. He who hesitates is lost. Clock counts down. Seconds feel like minutes. Just let me go damnit. The anticipation is worse than the deed. Glance in your mirror. Guy behind you looks worried. Good. You like them vulnerable. No quarter given none taken. Hard but fair.
Lights go green.
Drop a gear
Disappear.