How to participate in the best Formula 1 race in the world
BarcelonaAs a child, there was no more effective way to detach myself from the TV than when they were broadcasting Formula 1 races. The combination of hyper-speed vehicles—which my limited vision could barely detect—the crazy commentary of the commentators, and the imagined stench of gasoline kept me away from the screen for weeks. Formula 1 and my life have moved forward like two parallel rivers, with no feasible or latent possibility of getting closer. The change came thanks to a birthday present for Marcel's sixth birthday, a spare until then. As soon as the controls were properly charged with batteries that had to be fished out of remote drawers, the cars made a few reconnaissance laps around the living room before entering the darkness of the hallway.
The next afternoon, once the birthday party was over like someone leaving behind a debilitating flu, it was time to head to the park with Marcel and Joana. Vehicles at liberty. They had one for each of them, a detail that reduced the percentage of chances of the cars causing a fight: all you had to do was run the red one and the other would accept the blue one. Her favorite color. Joana—blue suited her, but she couldn't quite get the hang of the controller—she's just turned two—"Drive, Dad," she asked me. I had no choice but to take on the role of Formula 1 driver. It was the first time I'd tried it. A ball of nerves exploded in my stomach when I pressed a button and the car shot off. Marcel's car ended up dying upside down in a pothole. Winners and losers, but I quickly let it go. Perhaps the most useful thing was for her to draw her own conclusions while we put into practice what we dubbed "the best Formula 1 race in the world." She added—and finally the red and blue cars started racing. Since we didn't want to risk losing the signal, the three of us ran behind the cars. the route, when they got stuck or when someone accidentally presses the reverse button.
The race lasted fifteen minutes and ended unceremoniously when we got distracted because one of our favorite dogs had just arrived at the park. After the animal licked us as much as he wanted, we threw him the tennis ball his owner had left us. The dog chased it, spirited as ever, until it was time to go home. We left, unaware that participating in that chaotic, uncompetitive race—the best Formula 1 race in the world—had made us happy.