#ahhh so looking forward to seeing him FINALLY in f1

[yrsonpurpose]

OSCAR PIASTRI ☆ MCL60 Launch

[imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul]

Return to Me - Chapter Four

Chapter Four: Sorry, baby.

A/N: I’M SO EXCITED FOR YOU ALL TO READ THIS CHAPTER AHHH. I may have been listening to In a Crowd of Thousands from Anastasia while writing this, so maybe you all should definitely listen to it while reading this chapter?? As always, let me know what you think and ask to be tagged if you want!

Oh! Oh! Y/N/N stands for ‘your nickname.’ I usually just picture it as an abbreviated version of your name but to each their own.

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader Word Count: 4,897 Synopsis: With the horrifying news of Starkiller Base’s immense powers, tensions are high among the Resistance. Before they can mount an attack to take out the planet-destroyer that is intent on destroying them, the reader and Poe have a few things to get off their chests.

Tag List:  @xeniarocks​, @too-many-baes​, @araceli91103​​​, @holybatflapexpert​​, @themihala​​, @idocarealot, @treblebeth​​, @treestarrrrrrrr​​, @thescarletknight2014​​, @charlottie2998​​, @ibikus​​, @mellow-f1​​, @mrsdaamneron​​, @trustme3-13​​ @missjess71, @ella-solei​​​, @minelskede​​, @gleigh42​​​, @usuallyweepingnacho, @givemethatgold​​​, @and-claudia​​​, @constantdisgrace​​​, @wordsinwinters​​​, @readingvogueonprivetdrive​​, @trshbb​​​, @kaitlynw011​​​, @ihave2muchtimeonmyhands​​​, @constantdisgrace​​​

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Poe took off his helmet and shook out his sweaty curls, squinting as the sun hit his face. A light feeling was in his chest for the first time in a while. It felt good to have finally done something right, especially considering that because this mission was a success, he could stop feeling guilty about messing it up in the first place.

As he dismounted from his X-Wing and began talking to one of the mechanics nearby, he heard frantic beeping. He looked around for the source of the noise, glancing across the landing pad to see the culprit moving so fast that he looked like a bright orange ball rolling to him.

“BB-8! My buddy!” he cried, running to the droid as well. He embraced him and listened as he explained what happened since he left him on Jakku. BB-8 told him about Rey and Finn, his daring escapes from the First Order, and finished his tale with how he just yelled at you. Poe laughed at the droid, patting his head. “Well, thanks for looking out for me, buddy.”

“Poe? Poe Dameron!”

Poe lifted his head at his name and saw Finn, a man he thought dead until hearing BB-8’s story, running towards him. With a gigantic grin, Poe raced to him and embraced him tightly. Finn told him everything about the mission: how he escaped Jakku, meeting Han Solo, and his role in the fight on Takodana. Once he was done, Finn looked at him pleadingly.

“I need your help.” 

“Alright,” Poe said with a nod.

He led him back to the situation room, finding everyone scurrying around in a panic. He pushed through the crowds until he spotted General Organa, talking with you. 

Surprising himself, Poe smiled at the sight of you. The high of the successful mission was still carrying him happily until he got closer and his smile fell. There were tears staining your cheeks and your eyes were downcast, looking at your hands in your lap. For a moment, he forgot everything that had happened between the two of you and took a step to come comfort you.

“Who’s that?” Finn asked. “She came to Takodana with General Ogana.”

“Queen Bhavisama, queen of Naboo,” Poe answered, the name not sounding right. “Y/N,” he said. Finn nodded his head and looked at you. His eyes watched you, almost for a moment too long, before he frowned, taking in your teary face as well.

“She’s beautiful,” Finn said sadly.

“Yeah,” Poe said with a frown, “Don’t get ahead of yourself, though, buddy. The queen can’t be in any kind of relationship.”

“There can’t be a king?”

“Nope,” Poe said, maneuvering his way through the members in between them until he was finally at Leia’s side. At his approach, you started to wipe the tears off your cheeks with the back of your hand. Poe looked down at you sadly, wishing he could do something to make you feel better, before remembering why he came over.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” he said, again looking at you, “But Finn needs to speak to you.”

“And I need to speak to him. Y/N?” Leia said, looking down at you. You sniffed and looked up at her, putting on a forced smile.

“Right. I need to reach out to Naboo anyway.” Leia took your hands in hers as you stood.

“I’m so sorry,” she said. You nodded, glancing up quickly at Poe and Finn. You gave them a small, sad smile before excusing yourself. Poe looked in between your disappearing figure and Leia in confusion.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“The First Order tested out their new weapon on the Hosnian System. It completely obliterated Hosnian Prime and all surrounding planets. The Galactic Senate, the Republic fleet, everything was destroyed.”

“Y/N’s parents,” Poe said, letting the horrifying realization wash over him. Not only had your parents been lost, but billions of lives on top of that were lost, too.

“Yes,” Leia said. Poe took a step towards the door, not sure what he was going to do, but feeling as though he needed to do something, until Leia gave him a stern look. “Poe, I need you here. The First Order destroyed the Hosnian System as a test,” she said exasperatedly. “We have to assume that our base will be their next target. We need to get ahead of this.” He sighed.

“Yes, General. What’s the plan?” he asked. She turned her attention to Finn, touching his shoulder kind-heartedly.

“I promise, we will do whatever we can to get your friend back, but first I need you to tell me any and all information you have about the First Order and their weapon.”

“Sure,” Finn said, taking a seat as Commander D’Acy pulled up the incomplete schematics of Starkiller Base.

“This is all we’ve been able to compile so far. Whatever gaps you can fill in would be a great help,” D’Acy said.

“I worked on the construction of Starkiller,” Finn said enthusiastically, leaning in to describe the layout to a nearby engineer. Leia stepped over and stood by Poe, looking up at him. He could feel her eyes on him, watching his face to gauge his reaction to seeing you like that, but he didn’t want to talk about it right now. She was right, he was meant to stay here. He signed up to save the galaxy from the First Order, not to take care of you. That job ended two years ago.

“Commander,” Leia said, her smile evident in her voice. “It seems like Finn’s got this covered for a moment. If you need to go see her, go.”

“I’m needed here,” he said, looking back at the map of Starkiller as Finn started to piece it together.

“Y/N might need you, too.”

“Y/N hasn’t needed me for a long time now,” he said with a scoff.

“That’s not true.” Poe kept his frown on but nodded, still focusing on the map.

“Now’s not the time.”

“Are you two ever going to talk again?” He looked at her with soft eyes. He truly didn’t know, either.

“Maybe when this is all over.”

“I wouldn’t wait that long,” she said, strolling back over to the Holo table.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

After leaving the crowded room, you let your tears fall down your face freely. Everyone had gathered in the meeting room, so no one would see a queen cry for her fallen parents. When you reached your room, you set O9-I2 to contact Naboo as you tried to fix your smudged face, hoping not to worry them right off the bat.

This time, Loré answered. She smiled at you until she looked into your eyes.

“What happened?” she asked instantly.

“The First Order has a new weapon, they call it Starkiller Base. It’s a planet-destroying weapon, and they tested it today on the Hosnian System.” Loré’s mouth formed an ‘o’ in shock. “The entire system is gone. Hosnian Prime, the senate, the Republic fleet, my parents,” you added weakly. “Everything and everyone.” Loré let out a breath, taking a seat for a moment so you could only see the top of her head. “I need to come home, but I can’t just yet. The First Order must be planning a new attack by now, and I’m sure our location will be next.”

“Do you need a rescue?” she asked as she stood again.

“No. I can’t put our people in danger like that.” Loré gave you a trying look. “I cannot put my people in danger to help the Resistance. No matter how important I think they are . . .” you trailed off, not knowing what else to say. You wanted Naboo’s fleet here more than anything, but something in the back of your head was telling you no. It wouldn’t have been what your father wanted. Or the senate, for that matter. When it was still in existence, the senate had forbidden anyone from engaging with the First Order openly. The least you could do was honor one of their final wishes.

“Alright,” she said with a frown. Although you were both trained at keeping your emotions to yourself, you could see how deeply this was affecting her, too. She must have known someone in the Hosnian System.

“I’ll stay in contact,” you said.

“Of course, my lady. Be safe.”

“You, too,” you said, signing off.

You took some time for yourself, trying to cope with the monumental grief of losing both your parents in a few minutes. You could only give yourself these few minutes, though, knowing that you had to get back to the control room quickly. The First Order would most likely be powering their weapon soon, and if they weren’t, it needed to be destroyed before they could.

When you walked back into the control room, your eyes locked with Han’s. You walked over to him and he put an arm around you comfortingly.

“I’m sorry about your parents,” he said. You gave him a small smile.

“What’s going on here?”

“Well, Big Deal here is about to give a debriefing of Starkiller Base,” he said, nodding towards Finn.

“On his first day?” Han laughed and stepped forward to survey the Holo table. You watched from a few feet back, listening as Poe began the debriefing.

“The scan from Snap’s reconnaissance flight confirms Finn’s report,” he said.

“They’ve somehow created a hyper lightspeed weapon built within the planet itself,” Snap said.

“A laser cannon?” an officer asked.

“We’re not sure how to describe a weapon of this scale,” Poe said simply.

“It’s another Death Star!” exclaimed Major Ematt.

“I wish that were the case, Major,” Poe said disappointedly, pulling up an image of the Death Star and a much larger image of Starkiller Base.

“So, it’s big,” Han admitted. Monstrous was a better word for it, you thought.

“How is it possible to power a weapon of this size?” Admiral Ackbar asked.

“It uses the power of the sun,” Finn explained, “As the weapon is charged, the sun is drained until it disappears.” Racking your brain for how to take down a weapon of that scale, with the power of the sun, you watched as an officer ran to Leia’s side, giving her a note that had terrible news on it, according to the look on her face.

“The First Order is charging the weapon again now,” she said. “Our system is their next target.” Everyone began to panic, and they were only drowned out by Han speaking up again.

“Okay, how do we blow it up?” he called over the chaos, “There’s always a way to do that.” You looked around the group, but no one seemed to be able to come up with a plan until Leia pushed them. 

Admiral Statura pointed out that there would need to be a thermal oscillator to power the weapon, and Finn confirmed that there was one. Soon enough, with input from multiple voices around the Holo table, a plan was hatched to destroy the oscillator. This would cripple the base, making it possible to destroy Starkiller and save the Resistance from destruction.

However, the only way this plan was going to work was for Han and Finn to get on Starkiller Base and take down the shields, so that Poe could lead Black Squadron on an attack to eventually destroy the oscillator once those shields were down.

“All right, let’s go!” Poe called. Everyone started scurrying around you, running to their respective missions. You searched for Leia, unsure of where she wanted you to be and found her talking with Poe. As you approached, they finished their conversation. Leia looked more annoyed than before.

“What can I do to help?” you asked, watching Poe’s back as he walked out of the room.

“I need you to leave,” she said with a frown.

“What?”

“For your safety, we will not be keeping you on base during the attack.”

“Why? I can fight.” Leia frowned, looking up at you with sympathetic eyes.

“If the plan doesn't work, the base will be destroyed and there won’t be any more fights to have. There is no way we can risk your safety like that. If I could have it my way, I'd have you right by my side, but you are still queen of Naboo.”

“This is the entire Resistance! If the base gets blown up, we’ll have no chance of defeating the First Order.”

“I know. Which is why you must continue the Resistance. We will put our faith in everyone involved in the mission, but you must be off-planet when we fight. Only a few brave souls will remain here, everyone else will be ready to evacuate at a moment’s notice. If the worst happens, we are placing the future of the Resistance in your hands.” You took a deep breath, realizing how much responsibility Leia was leaving in your hands.

“Thank you for trusting me. I won’t let you down,” you said, mostly because that was what you assumed she wanted you to say, not because you were confident in your abilities to make her proud.

“You’ll need to leave soon,” she said. “Now would be preferable.” You laughed gently and nodded your head, looking back at the door that Poe had just left through.

“I will. There’s just . . . something I need to do first,” you said. She smiled at you, sensing exactly what you were going to do.

Thinking about the last time you saw your parents, the petty fight you had gotten in over nothing, you knew you didn’t want to leave things the way they were with Poe. You had two long years to think of what to say to him, and as you made your way towards the landing pad, all of that disappeared from your mind. Truthfully, you had no idea what to say to him, except apologies for everything that happened, and one other thing that was too hard for you to admit right now. 

Just as you were pushing open the door to the landing pad, Han called out to you.

“Y/N! Wait up,” he called, jogging to your side. “Got a minute?” he asked.

“Sure,” you said, nodding to a table in the corner of the room. He followed you over and sat down across from you, worry written all over his face. “What is it?” you asked, “I’ve never known Han Solo to be afraid of a fight where all the odds were against him.” He gave you a smile, shaking his head.

“I do well against the odds,” he said, making you smile back.

“Then what’s the matter?” you asked.

“Leia and I discussed a plan.”

“Right, to take out Starkiller Base. I know, I’m not supposed to be on—”

“No, something else.” You raised an eyebrow at him, waiting for him to explain. “Leia has asked me to bring Ben home.”

“Ben’s gone,” you said instantly, setting your jaw to keep from saying any more. Ben was long gone, you had all accepted that years ago. You felt like screaming at Han, wanting to bring him back to reason.

“We have hope that he can still be redeemed,” he began gently. “He’s still our son. Buried deep down, corrupted by Snoke, but he is still there. You knew him better than most. You don’t think there’s a chance he’s still there?”

“When Ben ran off, he came to me before. I begged him to stay, told him I would do anything to stop what he was about to do, but he refused,” you said weakly. “I made my decision to leave the Resistance, to leave Poe, because I knew he was completely gone. If I had any hope that Ben was still there, I wouldn’t have left. He is gone, Han.”

“Leia has this feeling,” Han said with a sigh, seeming like he didn’t believe in this plan, either. “She just knows he’s still in there. I don’t know if I believe in Ben, but I know I believe in Leia.” You nodded your head weakly.

“Me too,” you said. Han nodded his head, as if your agreement was all he needed to fully commit to this mission.

“Any advice on what to say to him?” he asked.

“Nothing I said to him worked the first time.”

“Well, if your charms didn’t work on him than I doubt mine will either.”

“You’re his father. That means more to him than anything I ever said or did,” you said. “I’m sorry I can’t give you any more advice, but if anyone can bring him back, I do truly believe it’s you, Han.”

“Thanks, kid,” he said, reaching across the table to pat your hand in a surprising show of affection, “Now go find Poe.”

“How—”

“I always went to Leia before a fight, too, even when we weren’t on speaking terms.”

“Any advice?” you asked, standing with him.

“Nothing I ever said worked, either,” he said with a smile, “But I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Just say what you feel.”

“Thank you, and good luck.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

“Commander.” Poe looked up from his preparations for the attack to find Leia standing a few feet in front of him.

“General,” he said, standing up and wiping his grease-covered hands on his pants.

“I fulfilled your favor.”

“Thank you,” he said, sighing in relief. That was one last stressor on his mind.

“She’ll be furious when she finds out.”

“Y/N is too important to risk. She’s the only chance for survival if this attack doesn’t go as planned,” he said plainly.

“And I’m sure that’s the only reasoning you had in asking me to keep her off the planet until the attack is over,” Leia said with a smirk. Poe sighed and kept her gaze.

“It is,” he said.

“You know, you could have asked me for anything? Anything. And yet, you used your favor to protect her. Maybe that spark between the two of you isn’t truly gone,” she said thoughtfully as she walked away. Poe laughed quietly to himself as he turned back to his final prep, thinking about you for a few moments before someone else turned his attention.

“Ready for this?” Finn asked.

“Yeah,” Poe said with a smile and nod. “Are you?”

“Not really, but for Rey, I’d do anything.”

“I know the feeling,” Poe said. “You’ll be great. Plus, you’ve got me and BB-8 up in the air, watching over you.”

“That’s right, the best damn pilot in the Resistance,” Finn said, patting his shoulder.

“I’ll see you after,” Poe said with a smile.

“Good luck.”

“You, too.” Poe turned from him, now needing to rush to finish his prep, just as Finn spoke again.

“Your Highness.”

Poe turned his head at the title and saw you standing a few feet from him. The cape over your shoulders billowed gently, matching the swishing of your long hair. You gave a polite smile to Finn, but when you looked at Poe, your eyes gave away your nerves. You had your hands clasped in front of you as you took a deep breath.

“Y/N,” he said, suddenly feeling weak as he looked at you.

“Hey,” you said, looking over your shoulder to make sure that Finn was gone.

“Shouldn’t you have left already?” he asked.

“I’m about to head out, I just wanted to see everyone off,” you said. You tried to keep eye contact with him, but every few seconds or so you would glance off around the base as if holding his gaze for longer than five seconds was too much for you. He looked into your eyes, though, and didn’t stop. 

He didn’t know how it was possible, but he had forgotten how much he loved your eyes. The longer he stared into them, the more shades he swore he could count. Although your nerves were plainly displayed on your face, he could still see through them to the woman he had fallen in love with so many years ago.

Too long had passed as he stared at you, and he had to shake himself back to the present. Neither of you had said anything, standing farther apart than you used to. He tried to comprehend what was happening. This was the first time you had spoken to each other in the last two years, and now that you were in front of each other, all the emotions you had felt when apart simply fell away from the both of you, leaving you both speechless.

“I’m sorry,” you said, taking a breath. “I didn’t come over here just to stand awkwardly.” Poe laughed and shook his head.

“It’s alright. I’m glad you’re standing here awkwardly.” You smiled at him gently, warmth running to your cheeks.

“I just needed to tell you a few things before you took off. I didn’t want to leave things in case . . .”

“Right,” Poe said quickly. “In there?” he asked, nodding to a small shack attached to the landing pad, the one equipped with all the tools and parts required to repair their ships. You nodded your head and followed him over, stepping in first as he held open the door. 

Once he closed it behind him, he realized how small the room actually was as he got a view of every eyelash on your lids. You laughed nervously, taking a step back as much as you could without knocking anything over.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize it would be this cramped,” Poe said, “I was just hoping for some privacy.”

“It’s alright,” you said with a gentle wave of your hand. Poe looked into your eyes, watching you gain up the courage to say whatever it was you were going to say to him. You opened your mouth a few times, but couldn’t find the words. 

“Y/N/N, I don’t mean to rush you, but I am on a time limit here,” he said with a grin. Your heart sped up at the nickname and you nodded your head.

“Sorry, sorry, I know. I just,” you sighed, taking a deep breath, “I just don’t think I can say it all here. I don’t think we have the time.”

“The abridged version then,” he teased. You snorted, finding some strength in the gentle way he was with you. 

“I’m sorry,” you began. “About everything. If things were different, I don’t know,” you said, shaking your head. “But I wish we hadn’t left things the way we did. I hated hurting you, Poe, please believe that.” He clenched his jaw as he nodded.

“I do.”

“And I know that I should have come seen you since I’ve been back, but with everything going on—”

“You don’t need to apologize for that, Y/N. I could have come to see you, too.”

“I’m sorry that we’re in this mess,” you said, shrugging. 

“Me too. But it’s not your fault.” You nodded and sniffed back a tear. “What?” he asked.

“I hate this,” you said sadly, smiling at him. “There’s so much I want to say, but, I don’t know how.”

“How about I talk for a minute?” he asked. You nodded your head, looking grateful. “I’m sorry we’re in this mess, too. I avoided you, too, and I know that was a mistake. I just couldn’t face you yet.”

“I understand,” you said weakly. 

“You don’t,” he said, shaking his head. “Letting you go was the hardest thing I have ever done, Y/N, and I worried that if I saw you again, I wouldn’t be able to let you go again.” You smiled at him painfully as a tear trickled down your cheek. He wiped it away with his thumb. “I’m sorry we have to do this now, for this reason.”

“So am I.” Just as you were about to continue, a voice over the loudspeaker instructed that all pilots needed to be at their station.

“Looks like we’re out of time,” Poe said.

“You should go.” He nodded his head and turned towards the door slowly. Before he could go, though, you grabbed his forearm. He turned back to you just as you threw your arms around his neck. He hugged you back just as fiercely, not missing a beat as his hands snaked around your waist. He rubbed your back gently, wanting to remember what it felt like to hold you, really hold you, in case this was the end. Your fingers were in the hairs at the nape of his neck, playing with the curls. 

Another voice over the loudspeaker reminded you both where you were needed a minute later. You broke away first, looking up at Poe sadly.

“Y/N, I—” he started. You shook your head and put your fingers over his lips gently.

“I know.” He nodded his head, taking one last look at you before he opened the door. You were just about to step out with him when he looked back at you.

“One last thing,” he said.

“What?”

“I asked Leia to get you off base.”

“You did?” you asked in shock. “Why?”

“Because I believe that the future of the Resistance would be safe in your hands, if worse came to worse.” You gave him a gentle smile. “And another reason I’ll save for when I get back.”

“Alright,” you said with a laugh. “But now you really need to go.”

“I know,” he said, walking out the door. You followed him to his X-Wing, waving at BB-8 as they both climbed in. He gave you one last look before he took off, focusing on the movement of your lips as you mouthed a ‘good luck’ to him.  

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Your eyes followed Poe’s X-Wing, long after he had left the atmosphere and out of sight. A few moments later, Han, Finn, and Chewbacca took off in the Millennium Falcon, as well. You tried not to think that they were heading off to their imminent doom, but it was hard to do when their chances for success were so slim.

“Y/N.”

“General,” you said, looking over your shoulder to see Leia approaching.

“You should get going.”

“I will. I just . . .”

“Want to watch him for as long as possible?”

“It’s not like I can still see him anymore,” you said with a laugh, looking back up at the sky.

“But damn if you won’t still try.” You smiled back at her, nodding hesitantly.

“Which ship do you want me to take?” you asked, looking at the few ships left on the hangar.

“None of these.”

“I thought you wanted me to get off base.”

“I do, but I wouldn’t let you leave on your own. I doubt you could, anyway,” she said with a smile.

“My fear of flying has gotten much better,” you lied.

“Regardless,” Leia said, “I’ve arranged a different ride for you.” Before you could even ask, a ship shot out of hyperspace, up above D’Qar. Instantly, you recognized your royal starship. “Nové answered my call immediately,” Leia explained. “She’s going to fly you away from D’Qar and see that you are safe until the mission has ended.”

“And you?”

“What about me?”

“You’re a legend, Leia. The Resistance isn’t the Resistance without you.”

“Well, maybe it’s time for new legends,” she said.

“Not just yet. Keep in touch,” you said, looking over your shoulder to see your starship landing. “Force forbid anything goes wrong, but if it does, you’ll get off-planet as quickly as possible?” you asked.

“Yes,” she said with a nod.

“Good.”

“I’ll see you after the victory,” she said with a grin. You hugged her tightly, pushing away the thought that this could be the last time you could do so, and tried to think with the same confidence Leia had.

“I’ll be waiting,” you said, pulling away from her. Leia nodded and waved you off to your ship.

Just as you took a step towards it, the landing bridge extended and Nové appeared at the entrance. You beamed when you saw her and raced forward to wrap her in a tight hug. She hugged you back just as tightly, clearly missing you, too.

“Ready to go?” she asked, holding you back at arm’s length to make sure you were really and completely okay.

“I am. I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Me too.”

[robertkstone]

BDC and WGDR in the Rearview Mirror

1: Backstory

Most of us have got a few seconds of video out there we wish didn’t exist.

No, this isn’t what you think it is. But it’s just about as embarrassing, and fortunately, our video crew has probably filed it away in some sort of long-term, cold storage where it’ll be very hard to find.

It got recorded about seven years ago during a dragstrip video shoot for a comparison story. On my right, the estimable Art St. Antoine was revving the hoarse-throated flat-six of a white Porsche Boxster Spyder. As I remember, it made sort of a whooping-cough sound. By comparison, my orange Tesla Roadster might as well have had its mouth duct-taped. Its instruments were glowing, its fan was whirring, but as we were discovering, Teslas were mute but ever-alert cars. Robots in a zombie trance until you point your right toe, and it suddenly streaks down the street.

Art and I were positioned in our respective lanes at our blue-collar dragstrip on the northeast corner of California Speedway. Way off to Art’s right, beyond the chain-link fence and the railroad tracks, was (still is) a scrapyard with a giant crane that looks like a steel brontosaurus. It appears to be slowly grazing on crushed cars. I guess it’s where you wind up when you run out of luck. I looked back down the dragstrip.

Suddenly my walkie blurts “Tesla—back up a foot.” I push the shifter button for reverse and relax the brake enough to move about a foot. They want us perfectly aligned for our drag race. “Porsche,” the talkie squawks, “Up about 6 inches.” The Boxster edges forward. “Tesla, back half a foot.” I push R to creep it backward. “Now Porsche, also back a few inches.” Art backs. “Tesla forward 2 inches.” I push D. “Porsche, back another inch.” Art backs again. “Tesla back an inch.” I press R. The cameras are rolling.

“Cars—are you ready?” Art and I nod. I hold the brake down hard and mat the accelerator pedal in preparation. The Porsche’s swelling revs are all we hear because—even trembling on the brink of jolting acceleration—my Tesla’s still silent.

“Five, Four. Three. Two. One –

Go!”

My left foot springs off the brake. And I accelerate backward so fast that it’s a good second before I can process the scene. There’s a cinematic technique called Dolly Zoom, which creates an illusion that the background is suddenly receding. Like how the beach shrunk behind Roy Scheider when he saw the tumbling kid and half-red surf in Jaws. I’m Roy Scheider in a Tesla beach chair staring as Art’s Porsche is surreally stretching away.

I hit the brakes. In all my D- and R-pressing, I’d gotten mixed up. The last button I’d pushed was … I guess, an R. I’m here to tell you that not many cars reverse as fast as a Tesla Roadster could.

Video: “Ahhh—yeah. I think we’ll try that again.” I was mortified. You know when you do something stupendously stupid and your first reaction is to look around to check if anybody saw it?  I was seeing guys standing up from cameras that just recorded it. For all the McLaren F1 slaloming and Ferrari F40 quarter-mile-ing and Porsche 918 figure-eighting I’ve done during 25 years of car testing (and always find ways to regale impressionable new interns with), I’m also always on the brink of reversing at full-tilt in a Tesla, too, I guess.

2: Luck

I like opening Google Earth to show people parking in Lot 1 at California Speedway in Fontana. Find where the 15 and 10 Freeways cross, go right and up a bit, zoom in, then zoom in some more, and you’ll see the smudgy black shape of a figure-eight pattern on the asphalt. It looks like a giant hand drew it with a 50-foot felt pen. I like to say I’ve left my mark on the world—and there it is right there. Its infinity-shaped path is an endless repetition of accelerating, stopping, and 240-degree turns that ultimately goes nowhere. And will fade away after the first rainstorm, anyway. It’s a metaphor for life, in a third of a mile.

If we were to drop ourselves down there next to it like real life Street View people—about three months ago during our testing for Best Driver’s Car—the figure eight’s path would be dotted with tire-scuffed orange traffic cones. Look up—the sky’s blue. It’s 8 a.m. Well, it’s actually kind of a warm 8 a.m., or maybe it’s my nerves. I’m shooting glances over at a small white box truck and its rolled-up rear door, which appears to have its mouth full of virgin Michelins on feathery aluminum-spoked wheels. Three guys next to it are periodically checking things on a Ferrari 488 GTB. The car: a wave of turbulent red froth, freeze-framed by a perfectly timed pause button. The tires: gummy black barrels about to be converted into kinetic energy, Einstein’s E=MC2 in automotive terms. Together, they’re a four-wheeled pinball loaded against a 661-hp spring and shot onto a craggy parking lot course of orange bumpers and paddles. Fun, right? Why’s my blood pressure hockey-sticking like this, then?

A few weeks earlier, associate road test editor Erick Ayapana was on the phone with the Ferrari’s handlers when he was asked if the car could be accompanied by a test driver to ‘confirm’ our test numbers. “What do you think?” Erick asked, with his ‘this is sort of weird’ look and patented 5-degree head tilt. Ordinarily, I’d say ‘No way,’ we do the confirming. But suddenly my talking muscles started channeling Edward R. Murrow’s. “Hmmm…. that would make for an interesting story.” Murrow raises his black-rimmed glasses to his forehead “Me versus a Ferrari test driver … I’ll get clobbered, but I’d like to read something like that.” Sacrifice your pride for the sake of a story. My Murrow-self felt slightly noble. An easy thing, actually, if—unlike Murrow—you have absolutely no sense of time or deadlines.

But here the Ferrari is, right there, right now. The deadline is today, and one of those three guys over there is going to gut my fragile driving reputation with his bare hands. Which one of them is my assassin?

A good lap in that car might be, I don’t know—maybe 23 seconds? When road test editor Chris Walton and I back-to-back figure eight really fast cars, a 0.1-second gap kinda stings. How badly is this guy going pound me? 0.3 second? 0.4? If I’m beaten by 0.5 second, will I notice that on the next test day I’m sent on local press trip to cover Hyundai’s new interior color palettes? Randy Pobst is flown in from Atlanta to fast-track young-gun Ayapana into our new full-time figure-eighter? And why don’t I ever channel Juan Fangio instead of Ed Murrow? Maybe it’s best to just walk quickly down the hall to the lethal-injection table and get this over with.

“Hi. I’m Kim—so which of you is the driver?” A young, medium-height guy with an olive complexion smiles and extends his hand. “I’m Donato Tanzillo. Development driver for Ferrari” Oh. And an Italian accent. I invite him to sit for a chat.

“So, ah, where do you do your test driving?” I warily ask.

“Fiorano. Monza. Nürburgring” he reels off. This guy’s the real McCoy. I glance at the parking lot and give a numb look: “I drive over there.” He looks at the parking lot. Donato, I’m realizing, is one of a handful of test drivers at Fiorano, Ferrari’s famous factory test track. Now I’m thinking it’ll be 0.6 second. A few years ago, I drove around Fiorano with one of these guys, and every time he thought I wasn’t graceful enough with the steering or pedals, he’d actually hit me in the thigh. “Smooother! Smooother!” he’d shout.

Remembering that, I spontaneously pointed in a random direction and exclaimed “Hey, look over there!” and as Donato turned, I feigned running away—an effective diversionary tactic I learned from The Princess Bride (switching wine glasses). But no use. We agree that I’ll go first.

Leaning into the open driver’s window of the fast-idling 488, Donato emphasizes one thing “Don’-ta turn the manettino to ‘ESC Off’. If you’re smoo-the, you’ll be faster in CT (traction control-off) mode.”

Of course, this could be a trick. It might actually be faster in ESC Off. Maybe he’s hoping I’ll use CT and go slower while he cleverly uses ESC Mode. Is this the sort of man who would put the poison in his own goblet?  Or in his enemy’s? Has he memorized The Princess Bride, too, and is one step ahead of me? I study his face. He’s giving nothing away.

I might have driven a thousand of cars around the figure-eight course, and on paper, a handful of them ought to be faster than the 488. The difference is that none of those has prancing horses fastened to their cowl’s flanks.

Symbolism: There’s a prancing horse on Porsches, too—recognizing horse breeding in historic Stuttgart. McLaren’s swoosh is either a stylized version of the wing-tip vortices. Here’s a way better story, though: In 1923, the mother of Francesco Baracca, an Italian fighter pilot who died in action in 1918, gave then racing driver, Enzo Ferrari, the prancing horse emblem that graced her son’s plane. There are giant churches and there’s Rome’s St. Peter’s. Does the Vatican Guard really need to wear those clothes? Italian tradition is colorful, dramatic, and always calculated to affect you.

Or intimidate you—partly why it took me so many laps to settle down and start to understand the rhythm of the car. Finally, I pulled over and asked Donato to hop in for some pointers. But after a few more laps, he just smiled and said “It’s good. It’s good.” Instantly I swerved toward the MT crew along the edge of the parking lot; they gotta hear this. I climb out. Donato settles in and roars off in a series of rifle-quick gearshifts. There will be no last-second pardon from the governor now. My lap time of 22.7 seconds is going to last for another 22.2.

By the way, this is all happening while we were testing a live telemetry system (RaceCapture/Pro from AutosportsLabs) in tandem with our usual Vbox equipment. So I could see, realtime, Donato’s times as they quickly started shrinking. And then—plateaued. I knew in an instant knew what had stopped the drop; I’d hopelessly worn and overheated this set of tires. “There’s nothing I can do. The tires are gone” Donato says, as he glides up.

Really—honestly—I didn’t mean to do that. I’m not that smart. Later, new tires are bolted on and I trim off another 0.1 second, careful to hand Donato his car back with competitive rubber. But in a gesture I’ll forever cherish, he says no, there’s no need for him to rerun the car for time. He’s satisfied. Donato smiles. He then flies around the track in spectacular, smoke-boiling drifts to finish them off before swapping again for Mazda Raceway Laguna Seca. Our associate online editor Michael Cantu quickly texts me: “I hear you beat the Ferrari test driver!” No. I met a gentleman. Lucky day.

3: Buttons again

The twist in this year’s World’s Greatest Drag race video was that at the very last instant, the perky Mazda Miata RF would retreat from the starting lineup and we’d slot in the Ludicrous-quick Tesla P100D. So while the other eleven gas-powered cars are brrrrraping their throttles, the only EV here would glide silently into position using its Summon Mode. Our squadron of Best Driver’s Cars would be joined by one without a driver.

However, its radar seemed to be seeing phantom obstacles and stopping short of the line. So with the clock ticking, we decided to simulate it; the idea was too funny to drop. I climbed in with a walkie-talkie, crunched down, and began operating the brake and accelerator with my hands per features editor Christian Seabaugh’s off-camera directions. “Forward, forward. Keep going,” Christian instructed. I pressed the accelerator with my right hand. “Slow, slow” I lightly palmed the rubber pedal with my left hand. Sharp-eyed Tesla aficionados will realize something’s up because Summon Mode would have automatically folded-in the side mirrors. Finally, Christian shouted “Stop! That’s it!” We wrestled helmets past momentarily pinched ears, and cinched our chin straps.

Positioning each individual car was a half-dozen serious-faced Air Force soldiers (off-duty, no charge to tax-payers) who would wave us forward with cupped fingers and then suddenly cross their forearms, our signal to halt—what’s normally seen through the acrylic canopy of a parking F16. Cool. On my left, Christian was pulsing his Ferrari 488 forward. This thing just doesn’t know idling; it’s either off and silent or a mechanical Milan Symphony Orchestra playing fu from PerformanceJunk WP Feed 3 http://ift.tt/2hPj7Q8 via IFTTT