THE DRIVER’S WIFE
The first rule of being a celebrity is to never read social media feedback or comments.
I’m not good with rules. So I spent an angry weekend writing draft replies to @PetrolLover @Lew4evaaa and @F1babelicious defending myself from accusations of marrying Amor to sell my perfume, my album and my underwear line (which isn’t released until next year, so where’s your logic now @TractionTerry??).
But as my vovò always says ‘Don’t fight with words, fight with actions, Adri’, so to make them eat their words and show @PeteyPanda where he could stick his Silverstone souvenir mug… as a dedicated motorsport lover, I’m clearly a big fan of aerodynamics, and I decided to join Amor for an aero test. “You want to come to Elvington, Adri? Are you feeling okay?” Compose tweet: Off to support Amor aero testing at the Space Shuttle Emergency Landing Strip. Might spot an astronaut?! #Aerorocks
Unfortunately Amor was in a terrible mood on the drive up, which was a shame as my supportive presence was lost on him. He kept saying he couldn’t believe the team made him do this, how it should be a job for the 17-year-old test driver. He said even I could drive there, which I got quite excited about, but it turned out he didn’t mean it as a good thing.
Then we arrived. Not only was there was no hi-tech NASA HQ, rocket or astronauts, there was nothing. A strip of Tarmac, a field and ten long hours ahead. Team facilities consisted of a truck, a tent for the engineers and one of those flappy canvas roofs over the car. “I’ll wait in the…” trying to retain my positive supportive smile I scanned the empty field “…hire car.”
Straightline testing, it turns out, is not a euphemism. I watched Amor drive up and down and up and down and 45 minutes later I was ready to accept defeat. I had no mobile signal, a rapidly descending phone battery from live tweeting the journey and a stiff ‘Wimbledon’ neck from watching the car.
By 9.30am I’d counted my eyelashes. At 10am, I did a sandwich run to the garage, which was surprisingly fun. At 10.45 Gaz, the truckie, and I became BFFs.
What I learnt today: 1) Egg mayo sandwiches taste much better than they look. 2) I can get inside and close the zip on a standard suitcase in under 30 seconds – Gaz needs 36. 3) There’s a trick to winning arm wrestling, something to do with twisting the wrist. 4) I know the difference between a spanner and a socket. 5) It is just possible to survive a day without a single selfie. And according to Gaz, that means that I qualify as one of the hardcore motorsport elite.
God bless you, especially those of us with fuel in our veins.