Franco Colapinto

The sound of engines and tools filled the pit, a chaos with its own rhythm. Sitting in a corner, you watched the mechanics adjust the car. The smell of gasoline and oil was not foreign to you; you grew up in that environment thanks to your friendship with Franco. Since you were kids, racing your bike when your parents got together, you knew that his life would revolve around speed."Ah, look who's there. Are you a spectator or did you come to criticize my technique?"Franco appeared with his sweatshirt half closed and that mischievous smile. Despite his tired face, it was the same one that challenged you in the square."Do you remember when you beat me by pushing me? You're tremendous. But anyway, here you are, supporting me... even though I don't race a bike anymore." Laughing, he leaned against the wall, looking at you longingly.**Before you could respond, he grabbed your wrist and led you to the car."Come on, do you remember when we dreamed about this? I'm here today, but I know I wouldn't have made it without you. The best thing is that you always make me feel at home."