Chapter 6: The Path to Qualification
The early morning sun cast long shadows over the karting track in Eefde as Alex helped Victor unload their gear. The paddock was quieter than usual — no crowds, no official races today. Just training. But for Alex, every day behind the wheel mattered.
Victor knelt beside the kart, tightening bolts and adjusting the pressure in the rear tires. "We'll go over that footage we took last week," he said. "Then I want you to run a few laps against someone new."
Alex looked up, curious. "Who?"
Victor tilted his head. "His name's Ezra. He's been driving a little longer than you — not much, but he's sharp. Different style. Good for you to learn from."
Alex nodded without hesitation. He felt ready, though he wasn't quite sure for what.
---
Inside the track office, Victor loaded a small tablet with onboard footage. The screen showed Alex's previous session: shaky hands on the wheel, late turns, missed apexes — but also moments of raw precision.
"See here," Victor said, tapping the screen. "You braked early. That's fine for now, but watch what it does to your exit."
Alex leaned closer. The video replayed in slow motion. He could see it now — the small overcorrection, the slower acceleration.
"You see it?"
Alex nodded. "I lost time."
Victor smiled. "Exactly. Now watch Ezra."
He switched the footage. Another kart. Smoother lines. Later braking. More confident throttle.
"He's not faster because he's older. He's faster because he trusts the kart. That comes with time — and with knowing when to push."
Alex studied every movement.
Victor placed a hand on his shoulder. "Let's go put it to the test."
---
Out on the track, Ezra was already warming up, weaving side to side on the straight. He wore a dark blue racing suit and a tinted visor. Alex felt a small flutter in his stomach, but pushed it down.
Victor waved him over. "Three sets of five laps. First set: follow him. Learn. Second set: pass if you can. Third set: clean lap on your own."
Alex strapped into his kart. The engine growled to life.
The first set began.
Ezra took the lead, diving into corners with practiced aggression. Alex followed. He mirrored the lines as best he could, keeping steady distance. Turn by turn, lap by lap, he saw where Ezra lifted, where he coasted, where he attacked.
By the fourth lap, Alex was already adjusting. A tighter line into turn 6. More throttle out of the hairpin. His movements sharpened.
Victor, stopwatch in hand, nodded with approval.
Second set.
Alex started behind again. But this time, the gap narrowed quickly. By lap three, he was on Ezra's bumper.
Into the long left-hander, Alex braked later. He slipped inside — not cleanly, but assertive.
Ezra held him on the exit.
Victor motioned for them to switch positions.
They went again.
This time, Alex defended. Tight inside lines. Early blocks. He wasn't faster — not yet — but he held his own.
After the session, the boys pulled into the paddock.
Ezra lifted his visor. "You're not bad. Just need to stop second-guessing."
Alex shrugged. "Still learning."
Ezra grinned. "We all are."
Victor handed Alex a water bottle. "Nice work. You read the track. Adjusted in real time. That's the foundation."
Alex took a long drink. His heart was still racing.
"You've got three more weeks before the qualifier," Victor said. "We'll keep building. Today wasn't about speed — it was about awareness. And you've got that."
Alex looked back at the track.
He didn't just want to drive anymore.
He wanted to race — properly. And win.
---
Later that evening, at home in Arnhem, Alex sat at the dinner table with his parents.
His mom poured him tea. "How was training?"
"Good. Hard. Victor made me follow someone and then try to pass them."
His dad raised an eyebrow. "Did you?"
"Almost," Alex said. "But I learned more that way."
They exchanged glances.
"We've been thinking," his mother said gently. "This is a big commitment. Three times a week is a lot."
"I can handle it," Alex replied quickly.
His father sighed. "It's not just about time. It's about balance. School. Rest. Being a kid."
"I am being a kid," Alex said. "Just… in a kart."
They smiled.
"You've earned our trust," his dad said. "We'll keep going. Just tell us if it ever becomes too much."
Alex nodded. He wouldn't stop. Not now.
---
That night, lying in bed, he replayed the day's laps in his head. Each turn. Each mistake. Each small victory.
He closed his eyes and imagined the future.
Not fame. Not trophies.
Just the perfect lap.