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Just imagine: You're a mid-field F1 driver. You're sitting in P10 with 5 laps left, trying to bring home a points finish for your team. You're completely in the zone, focused on your braking points and your exits. You're truly one with the track and the car. Then suddenly, you begin to hear the sound of hardbass from behind. "It can't be," you say to yourself as you try to deny the sound, but it grows louder, and louder. A creeping fear rises within you as your brain finally puts 2 and 2 together, and you realize the grim situation you're now in. You look at your rear-view mirror, and all of your worst fears and suspicions are confirmed. It's the Torpedo himself, barreling down on you on fresher tires. The heart palpitations begin. Your hands start to shake. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You frantically try to think what to do, but all of your thoughts are drowned out by the now-deafening sound of hardbass. You shed a tear as you look at your front wing, knowing this is the last time you will see it fully intact. You come into a low-speed corner. As you're about to hit the apex, you look back in your mirror. To your horror, you see Kvyat coming up the inside at 320 kph, screaming angry Russian. You try to turn outside, but it's too late. "Do svidaniya, comrade," you hear Kvyat say, as he crushes your front wing into fragments, and shoves you off track. You're now retiring your vehicle, as you see Kvyat speed off in the distance.
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