After the Nimban Deuxième Prix
Drake Stevenson climbed out of his strange eight-wheeled Imagination-powered contraption and peeled off his red and yellow helmet. It was over. The dream he had harbored since he was a child would not come true. His final race as an open-wheeled driver had come to an end. He would not compete for the World Grand Prix Championship. He would not stun the world with some amazing performance in the rain in a place like Audioslavia or Nekoni or Eastfield Lodge. He would not be known for his breathtaking drives, making up thirty seconds in thirty laps to beat the world’s greatest drivers. Instead, he would be known for being one of the biggest “what if?” stories in the history of the World Grand Prix Championship.
But some of that magic came out on this rainy afternoon in Nimbus Bay. Drake had run up front for much of the race, and while he wasn’t known as a wet-weather specialist, he made the most of the conditions, thinking back to his time running on dirt in Hapilopper. The 9th place finish was deceiving. It was clear that he should have been up near the front when the flag dropped, but racing luck being what it was, he fell back in the last quarter of the race.
And while Drake was incredibly happy to finally be free of what had been the worst season of his life, he couldn’t help but feel melancholy for what had happened. He couldn’t help but question the decisions he had made so many months before. He couldn’t help but wonder that maybe, if he had gone a different route, this past season wouldn’t have been such an unmitigated disaster. Sure, he scored points, but everyone expected him to contend for the championship. Everyone expected him to win races and be one of the threats to watch for the upcoming World Grand Prix Championship season.
If anything, he probably should have wondered what would have happened if he hadn’t checked out mentally from racing for Nexus Racing. Early on in the season, several incidents happened that sapped his confidence away, and by the time the second half of the season had gotten started, it was plainly obvious that Drake was going on autopilot. His track walks had been much shorter and much less detailed than they had typically been in the past. His living quarters in Nimbus Bay, not far from the Nexus Racing shop, a very nice apartment he had rented for the past year, became more and more deserted as the season progressed, and it got to the point that Drake probably spent one day a month there, if that.
Drake had chosen to spend more and more time with Team Blue as a way to rebuild his confidence, and chose to spend more time living in his old apartment in Hapilopper City with roommates Chris Holmes and Claire Randall. Maybe, had he spent more time in Nimbus Bay instead, he might have been able to get more acquainted with the Chase Cutter, a car so wildly different from anything Drake had ever driven in his life. But there were things that had happened throughout the season, both professionally and personally, that sapped away his desire to be with the Nexus team, and at one point, his will to live. It wasn’t a reflection on the team, and when Drake wrote a farewell letter to Nexus Racing, he made that point clear.
To the entire Nexus Racing Staff:
Thank you very much for the opportunity to drive your car for this season. While this season has certainly had more difficulties than successes, I will forever be grateful for the chances I have been given as a driver for one of the premier teams in international motorsport. However, it has become crystal clear that I must return home, and the dream I have had since I was a little boy, the dream of becoming a World Champion, has come to an end.
Those difficulties, however, should not be blamed on you, the hardworking staff of Nexus Racing, who put in very long hours and probably spent more time away from your families than you’d like to admit, to produce racing cars for both myself and Janne. My mental state has not been what I wanted it to be this season, and I will admit that my dedication to this team has not been what it should have been throughout the season, and for that, I would like to personally apologize to all of you. You deserved better than what I was able to provide. At a better time, and given better circumstances, I think I could have given you the results you truly deserve.
I wish all of you luck in the future, in the World Grand Prix Championships in the future. I know I will be watching from home to cheer you and your bold idea on. And anytime y’all come to Hapilopper to compete, let me know. We’ll get together for a party.Until we meet again.
Drake C. Stevenson
There were just a handful of Drake’s personal items in his Nimbus Bay apartment. There were pictures – of himself and his family; of him and his old high school sweetheart; and of him and the Eelandii VTGP crew after he took that third place finish in Vilita. That picture meant so much to him, even more than any others. That picture to him meant hope. It meant that dream, the dream he told all his friends and family about, was probably going to come true. A few tears ran down his eyes as he put the pictures and other items into boxes the morning after the race. That picture of him and the Eelandii team would be put up in a very prominent place in his new house in north Hapilopper City.
A friend of Drake’s in Nimbus Bay helped him get to the airport, to board the plane back to Hapilopper City, as well as get the boxes onto the plane. There weren’t many, as Drake didn’t have a lot of stuff with him, but everything he had carried some kind of meaning. Drake hugged the friend and said goodbye, but expressed a promise that they would indeed keep in touch.
Hapilopper Airlines Flight 96
A few hours later
Perhaps it was appropriate that the plane from Nimbus Bay to Hapilopper City was so empty. With his eye on purchasing a new house in the north end of Hapilopper City after having been thrown out of his apartment, Drake opted to take a cheaper seat in coach rather than the usual first-class tickets that Preston Autos had purchased for him. But Preston Autos had pulled the plug weeks before, stating they would not support Drake competing in Grand Prix racing moving forward.
But Drake looked around the massive flying machine and could only spot a handful of people. The plane just felt so quiet as he looked around. The plane had yet to take off, and Drake was harboring some second thoughts. Maybe he could cause a scene on the plane, get thrown off and stay in Nimbus Bay, and maybe, just maybe, try one more time with Nexus Racing. Maybe those dreams could still come true.
He looked out the window and took a long look at what was outside. It was too much for him, emotionally. This dream he had harbored since he was seven years old was ending, the dream of being a World Grand Prix Champion, and he couldn’t take it. It had truly come to an end.
Andrew’s Pub, Hapilopper City
Thirteen hours later – and an hour after landing in Hapilopper City
Chris Holmes, Frank Bronson and Chet Byrd waited at the terminal at the Hapilopper City Airport for Drake to arrive. They figured they’d give Drake a proper homecoming. They figured that Drake would be more than happy to see his Hapiloppian friends, and maybe they’d get positively shitfaced at Andrew’s Pub to celebrate. When they saw Drake come out of the jetway, they saw he was in no mood to celebrate. For the last twelve hours, Drake had contemplated what could have been, and the more he thought about it, the more upset he got.
Nevertheless, the four went to the pub, possibly as a way to lift Drake’s spirits. It only made him more upset. It was here that Drake made the official announcement that he would be competing for Nexus Racing, and it was here that he had kicked off what he thought would be the start of a magnificent Grand Prix career.
“You know, I shouldn’t have signed with them,” Drake said sadly. “I probably had a race seat with Eelandii waiting for me and I blew it. Or, I could have run with you guys for a season.”
“Drake, you had no way of knowing that wasn’t going to work,” Chet said. “You had no way of knowing you’d be driving a shitbox. I mean, shit pal. Eight wheels? Imagination? I ain’t ever had any idea of whatever that meant.”
Drake cringed at the word “shitbox.” The Chase Cutter was not a shitbox, he thought, and instead, he felt like the car could have won races had he felt more motivated.
The next morning, however, was somewhat refreshing. For the first time, Drake had woken up as a former Grand Prix driver. He was called into the Team Blue office, where team principal Amanda McAlister officially welcomed him back to the team. For the remainder of the season, Drake would compete in the HASCAR Challenge Cup, while possibly running for the second open charter in NSSCRA from time to time. He took the position with decidedly mixed feelings. On one hand, he was grateful Team Blue had welcomed him back, and he was ready to pick up where he left off in the Challenge Cup. On the other hand, he wondered what he could have done differently. Leaving the shop, Drake went over to a local diner to have some lunch and think about it.
As he walked out of the shop, Rudy Edwards walked in, walking right by Drake as he sauntered in. The two nodded their heads curtly. Drake and Rudy knew why the other was there. Edwards, the leader of the national championship car series, was set to discuss a potential World Grand Prix Championship bid with Marty Lewis, the head of racing operations for Preston Autos. Edwards, 22, had his whole career ahead of him. His dream was still alive. His goal of becoming a World Grand Prix Champion was still very much in play.