A sound that didn’t just make itself heard through my ears but through every cell of my body. From the soles of my feet to the tiny hairs on my arms. No part of me didn’t get blasted by it. As for seeing the Formula One car as it sped under us—we were standing on a black-and-white bridge over Silverstone racetrack—it was nothing more than a blur with wheels and a streak of blood red. How anyone could drive that fast and stay in control was beyond me. “What do you think?” Ruben shouted, spinning around to watch the car speed away. I did the same, and he slipped his arm around my waist and steadied me. A gust of wind dragging behind the car had whipped my hair around my face and caused me to falter. Every bit of me was still vibrating, and the roar echoed around my head and in my chest. “Really bloody loud,” I shouted. “Is there just the one?” I glanced over my shoulder, wondering if there was more I needed to brace myself for. “Looks like it. The McLaren team have arrived a day before everyone else.
