Chapter 3: The Offer
The sky above Duiven was pale and cloudless as the small family car pulled into the same lot for the third Saturday in a row. The kartbaan hummed with activity, but the routine was no longer unfamiliar. Alex, now with a bit more bounce in his step, walked beside his father, helmet in hand. His eyes scanned the track—not nervously like before, but with anticipation.
Willem and Miriam exchanged a glance. They had seen the change in their son, subtle but undeniable. Alex was still quiet in new surroundings, still preferred not to be touched without warning, but there was no mistaking the focus he brought to racing.
Leo was waiting near the pit area, already halfway through zipping up his borrowed suit. "You're here!" he called, grinning. "They've split the groups today. We get our own track time—just us."
Alex smiled. "That's good."
Victor stood nearby, arms folded, eyes tracking Alex as he moved. He hadn't said much after last week. Just a nod. But today he approached with purpose.
"Alex," he said calmly. "You're early."
"Wanted to see the track again."
"Good instinct." Victor glanced at the kart being rolled out. "You've got fifteen minutes before the next rotation. Go warm up."
Alex's time on the track felt smoother than ever. He didn't force it. He didn't overthink. He let the flow of the curves pull him, let the vibrations in the wheel guide his adjustments. When he returned to the pit, his face was flushed but satisfied.
Victor gave a short nod. "You're improving."
Leo clapped him on the back. "Told you! You looked faster this time."
The boys sat on the edge of a plastic bench, sipping water. Alex glanced around at the other kids who were arriving—some older, some younger. All of them with different helmets, different suits, but the same anticipation.
"I wish I could come here more often," Alex said.
Leo nodded. "Yeah. Me too. But my dad says it's expensive."
Alex didn't reply, but the thought stayed with him.
While the boys talked, Victor turned to Willem and Miriam.
"I wanted to speak with you both," he said. "Privately."
They stepped a little aside, just far enough from the noise.
Victor kept his tone level. "I've coached young drivers for more than ten years. Alex... he has something rare. He reads the track, the space around him—naturally. But talent like this needs structure. And time."
Miriam glanced at Willem before asking, "You mean more lessons?"
"More than that," Victor said. "I want to offer Alex a spot in a small training group I supervise. Real karting—outdoor tracks, proper coaching, timed runs. We train three times a week."
"Where?" Willem asked. His voice was cautious.
"Normally we use Lelystad," Victor admitted. "But I know that's too far, especially with your jobs. So for the first month, I'll base sessions out of Eefde. Closer. Less pressure."
Miriam frowned. "How much would it cost?"
Victor didn't hesitate. "Around €500 for two months. That covers kart use, track time, coaching, tires—everything. After that, if Alex does well at the regional youth tournament, there's a good chance he'll receive a scholarship. That would take care of future costs."
Willem folded his arms. "We're not pushing him into this."
"I'm not asking you to," Victor said. "But I don't want to let this kind of potential go untrained. This isn't about turning him into a star tomorrow. It's about giving him a path, if he wants it."
There was a short silence.
Then Alex's voice, from behind them: "I want to try."
They turned. He stood with Leo, but his gaze was steady.
"I want to race. I want to learn how to do it better."
Victor nodded, not smiling, but something softened in his expression. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a small card.
"Details are on the back. First session's next Tuesday. Eefde. Late afternoon. We'll bring a kart suitable for him."
Willem took it slowly. "We'll talk tonight."
Victor gave a simple reply. "That's all I ask."
As they left the track that day, Alex was quiet again—but not out of nervousness. He was thinking, picturing the wide turns of a real track, imagining the sound of tires over asphalt.
That night, at the dinner table, the topic returned.
"It's not a small thing," Miriam said. "Three times a week. That's a lot."
Willem nodded. "We can make it work for a month. If he still wants to do it after that… we'll find a way."
Alex looked between them. "I'll wake up early for school if I have to. I'll do my homework faster."
Willem smiled slightly. "Alright. We'll give it a try."
The next few days went by in a blur of anticipation. Alex couldn't stop thinking about it. His backpack sat ready by the door. His shoes were cleaned. He practiced tying his gloves until the motions were automatic.
On Tuesday, they drove to Eefde. The track there was bigger, older, and open to the sky. The karts were faster. The noise was louder.
Victor greeted them at the gate. "Welcome to your next chapter."
He led Alex to a kart painted in white and blue, sleek and small. "This is yours for now. We adjusted the seat for your size."
Alex ran his hand along the side. "It's beautiful."
"Go get changed. We'll start with warm-up laps, then braking drills."
As Alex pulled on the racing suit, something settled inside him. A sense of direction. He didn't know how far this road would go. But he was on it now.
And he was ready to drive.
End of Chapter 3