Chapter 20: Won't give you a pump

"A reporter wrote in a column that Vann Winston would never be king in Formula 1."
"That's it, don't let it go." Hunt had an "uninteresting story" look.
"The reporter said that Vann Winston will always be the shadow of Great White Shark 'Charr' or Lawrence Owen."
Shire and Irving, dubbed "Double Heroes" by F1 fans, are top drivers of Formula One for more than a decade.
Hunt paused.
"Actually, I don't think so. Because this is largely the media strategy of Mercedes-Benz. But you are very angry. When you see that reporter, you want to scold him but can't make a sound."
Winston's expression was serious, so serious that Hunter seemed to see the scene.
"and after?"
"The reporter left with a smile. You are very depressed. You told me that you obviously want to scold him on the back of your hand, but you will still be disgusted when you see that guy. You stretch your hand back to me, I said……"
"You said you would win Shire at this Grand Prix."
When Hunter finished this sentence, he was stupid.
Because of the picture described by Winston, the mood seems to have happened, not Winston's assumption of "last life".
"Yes, I'll win Shire, and I'll wait for you on the throne." Winston reached out and bounced on Hunter's forehead.
He woke up to God, but something deep in his heart cracked out at any time.
At 5:30 p.m. local time, players from each team started practice at Silverstone.
Marcus looked at Hunt's lap speed, and stroked his head: "This kid is in a good shape."
"I hope to stay until qualifying."
At eight o'clock in the evening, the second practice session is about to begin. Hunt came into a small corner with his pockets, squinted, and lighted himself with a cigarette.
After pumping about a third, someone came to sit next to him, and according to the length of the other's legs, Hunter didn't need to look up to know who the other was.
Neither of them spoke until the half of Hunter's smoke was burned, and the person beside him said, "Give me a sip."
Hunter smiled with a tear in his mouth. "You won't bring it!"
With this in his mouth, he still held the cigarette to the other side. This time he deliberately pinched the part of the cigarette holder so that Winston would have to pick it up with his own hands.
But he did not expect Winston to hold his cigarette with Hunt's fingers.
"Hey!" Hunt felt a sense of fright.
He wanted to retract his fingers, but he didn't expect the other person to directly bit his fingertips, and the intensity was not small. He could only watch the other person take a sip, and then pressed the tip of his tongue under the cigarette holder to send out the cigarette.
"You bite me!" Hunter stared at the other with a rounded eye.
"Then why did you deliberately pinch it?" Winston asked coldly.
Hunt found himself speechless and sounded as though he had lost ground ... but the guy in front of him was like an emperor, and he had to wait for even smoking.
The second round of qualifying is about to begin, and Hunter and Winston rose up in unison to return to their respective teams.
Mr. Marcus was a bit timid: "If Hunter can keep it, I think it's still possible to get eighth or ninth!"
At ten thirty in the evening, the practice session ended.
Hunt took off his gloves and moved his wrists, remembering his fingers bitten by Winston with a little pain.
He sent an unbalanced text message to the other side: you bitten my finger. If the qualifying situation is not good, you have to pay full responsibility.
I didn't expect the other party to reply to him immediately. Hunter returned to the room, took a shower, and went back to bed. He found an unread message on the mobile phone, and opened it to see Winston's reply: Waiting for the London Eye, I will let you know what really hurts.
"Ah?" Hunt scratched his head. "What do you mean?"
Two seconds later, he suddenly remembered his chat with Winston about the London Eye, and his ears instantly turned red.
You never thought that one day, when the game was over, you would take your beloved to sit on the sights of London. Can hug and kiss, why is it boring?
I understand. Thirty minutes is enough to have sex.
Hunter quickly pressed a text message on his phone: be careful that it will rot underneath.
Then, with a deep sense of satisfaction, Hunter threw the phone aside and fell asleep.
The next morning, he touched his cell phone to watch the time, and was calmed down by Winston's text message: You hold it, it won't rot.
"Fuck believe it or not, I'll show your text messages to the global media!" Hunt was indignant.
Think again, let's forget ... I guess everyone will think that Winston's cell phone has dropped.
Hunter's inexplicable sorrow at the evidence that he couldn't bring down the opponent.
At 6 pm, the third practice round ends, and two hours later, qualifying begins.
Hunter's smooth play in the early stages made Marcus very pleased.
"That's it ... that's it ... be a good boy ..."
In the middle of qualifying, Hunt's ranking fluctuated between eighth and seventh.
Just as Marcus thought that Hunter would win this favorable ranking, his lap time plummeted.
"What's going on?" Marcus was nervous.
"There's something wrong with Hunt's oil pump!"
"He's driving back to the pit now!"
Marcus raised his hand and held his face, and shouted, "What the hell--"
In the end, Hunter's ranking dropped to 13th.
When he returned, everyone looked at him with regret.
McGrady was also gloating.
"That ... Hunter ..." Marcus wanted to comfort him, but it didn't make sense to say anything at this time.
After Hunt took off the thermal mask, he grabbed his sweaty hair: "Can the oil pump be repaired?"
"It should be possible before the race."
"Oh. Then I'll smoke a cigarette." Hunter took the water bottle and drank as he walked out.
No one said anything, and the mechanics were extremely sorry.
"We checked the oil pumps, and we don't know why this happened ..."
This is a major mistake by the mechanics team and will directly affect Hunt's race results.
Everyone could feel that Hunter was still in good shape at this station, but wasted.
No matter which driver, it will feel like a cold water splash.
Hunter, who had already reached the door, suddenly turned around again, shrugging his shoulders and saying, "Hey ... this is not the first time I've started from such a ranking. You don't have to be indifferent."
Hunt twitched the corner of his mouth, grinning, and could not see the discomfort at all.
"Hey, we will stand by you during the race."
"Okay, look at how fast you change tires."
Hunter blinked, then went to a small corner and was sad, ah, no, it was smoking.
Take a deep breath and spit it out.
Someone sat beside him, muttering Hunter with his eyes closed in dissatisfaction: "Did I hide where I smoke and I can meet you?"
"No, I'm looking for you." Winston's voice sounded.
"How are you qualifying?"
"Pole position."
"... Damn!" Hunt opened his eyes and looked at each other indignantly. "I can't be friends with you anymore! Are you here to show off or to comfort me!"
"neither."
Hunter suddenly started smoking hard.
"Why do you smoke so fast?"
"Don't leave it to you."
"In the future, you will also be a regular guest in pole position, so I have no capital to show off in front of you."
"How long later? I'm not in pole position this time, I'm finished ... Maddy will call me a stutterer again."
I will tell you something.
Hunt stared blankly at the sky.
"Starting from an unfavorable position, the following grams are your specialty." Winston's voice was faint, meaning that starting at the 13th position was not a big deal.
"I really want to be depressed. But as you say, I seem to be a god?"
Hunter laughed and took a closer look at Winston, feeling that this guy's Nima was flavorful.
"Ah, it's over."
Hunt flicked the cigarette butt, thinking that you might not have to.
But I didn't expect Winston beside him to take out an aluminum cigarette case, and tickled his finger at Hunter.
"I don't have a lighter," Hunt said sincerely.
Winston's jaw was raised, his eyes were cold, and he seemed to be saying: Do you want to die?
Hunter tilted his mouth and felt the lighter. He was about to throw it to Winston, but he didn't expect the other person to put the cigarette in his lips and sit there.
Meaning: Give me a cigarette.
Lying! Believe it or not, I burn your eyebrows!
The cigarette curled up between Winston's lips, and he seemed to be saying, "Why don't you light a cigarette?"
"Believe it or not, I drive over your head in F1?" Hunter said, staring.
Winston's expression hadn't changed.
This low-level provocation has no effect on him at all.
Hunter leaned over, blocking the fire with one hand, and lighting a cigarette for him.
He reached for his cell phone and wanted to play it, but found that the cell phone was almost dead.
"Ah ... so boring ..." Hunt just wanted to say that he would go back and listen to those old things beeping strategy. Who knew that Winston threw his phone to him.
"Go play."
Hunter's heart trembled: "Oh? Why does your cell phone have fun?"
The whole team laughed at his lack of taste in the game.
But I didn't expect Winston to play too!
Since Winston is also playing, it is a super-competitive game!
"I can't do it myself, and one day you will put it in my phone."
The author has something to say: salted egg time:
Hunter: I'm best at the following grams! The following grams!
Winston: I put you on top.
Hunter: ... I can't communicate with you ...