the need to drive
oscar piastri/lando norris, 4426 words
Oscar Piastri needs to drive. If it were up to him, he would always be suited up and strapped in, fused with the carbon fiber and rubber, fitted inside the exoskeleton that feels less like a separate machine and more like a proper extension of himself, the real body he was born to inhabit.
The media likes to call him a robot. He isn’t. At least, not in the way they mean it. They mean to say he has no emotions, that he is calm and stoic and unflappable. But that’s not true. He feels things all the time, more than his human body can hold.
Right now, for instance, he feels itchy and hot and furious, his heart pounding like there’s a V6 engine inside his chest, held in neutral and dying to rev. It’s the second weekend of the season, and he won’t race. He won’t even start. Again.
