My Formula 1 System-Chapter 490: The North Remembers. 2

Robert Jakobsen’s family was a very nice family. It was something Luca had expected long before the flight even took off because of how kind Jakobsen had been in accepting his visitation offer.

They were a modest family; empathetic, grounded, and knitted in and out of each other to form a bond as one. It was the kind of family where you would wake up to the sound of sizzling frying eggs, most likely sourced from your own farm; the playful laughter of your siblings bouncing through the corridors; and the sound of tools clanging as your old pops repaired something in the shed. The Jakobsen family kind of reminded Luca of the Weasleys in Harry Potter.

To the glory of God, every single person in the nuclear family was still alive, healthy, and sturdy. Grandpa Jakobsen had already grown grey hair and so did Grandma Jakobsen, though hers was much darker. And they were indeed grandparents, because Robert’s elder sister had two kids—twin boys—who had overstayed their holiday at the family’s home.

It was because of those twin boys that Luca’s one-on-one discussion with Robert himself was delayed for what felt like eternity. The boys, lively and restless, couldn’t believe that the famous Luca Rennick was in their home, sitting right there on the couch where they usually dumped their crayons, toys, and comics.

They disturbed Luca like fat, juicy flies, buzzing around him with endless questions about car speeds, crashes, trophies, and how he was able to drive faster than lightning. Luca hadn’t expected this kind of strain, but as the public figure he had become, he had already mastered the art of fielding barrages perfectly. And since they were just kids, it made the encounter even more entertaining.

Eventually, their grandmother intervened in their interrogation and pestering. She gently told the boys to leave Mr. Rennick alone for a while. She was a smart woman because the boys had just started to go a bit too far, and were already asking Luca how he injured DiMarco.

When the house had finally settled and Luca was served light refreshments, that was when he finally got some time alone with Robert.

And to Luca’s surprise, Robert’s condition wasn’t bad at all! Not at all!

Yes, even though he was rolled in with a wheelchair, Luca didn’t want to admit it, but he had actually expected much worse.

Robert was sitting upright, his shoulders firm and not slouched like one would expect from someone who had become a vegetable. In fact, it almost looked like he was perfectly fine and had simply chosen to sit in a wheelchair. However, judging from the nature of his legs, Luca could tell they weren’t being used regularly to the extent of the average person.

Robert carried a calm dignity. His gestures were light but meaningful, filled with grace and self-respect. He even chuckled softly when Luca offered him a greeting that was far too formal for someone who had invited him into his own living room.

It was sad to know that he was just 28 years old. It made Luca wonder whether he himself had an even more dangerous career ahead, one that could nearly take his life too. He was only 19 when his ribs got broken, and 20 when he suffered burns. What next? A dislocated limb?

Robert further shocked Luca with how well he had recovered when his father, Ruud, announced that it was time for his daily rehabilitation—gaitline reconditioning, a steady and repetitive practice involving controlled walking with modern crutches to help realign his balance and strengthen his legs.

Robert, showing a remarkable sense of ease and willpower, suggested that the discussion with Luca could continue while he did the routine. So, without protest, Luca followed them out to the long porch at the back of the house.

The porch was very wide and long, overlooking the farms. Robert was stood by his sister and father, handed the crutches, which he gripped firmly before beginning to take confident steps. He could move on his own to the side of the railings, while someone else—Luca in this case—stayed and walked along on the other side.

"I’m still a fan of the greatest team ever—Squadra Corse. I hope you know that?" Jakobsen said in a joking tone before they both laughed richly.

"Sigh. I would have loved to celebrate with Antonio in Abu Dhabi. He and the team visited me after the win, do you know?"

"Wow."

Luca nodded with amusement. It was kind of shocking to hear that Luigi and Squadra Corse could do something so memorable and loving.

"Squadra also went on to win the championship the season of your crash. You still received your medal, right?"

Jakobsen smiled halfway, a wistful, wry smile, paired with a subtle look of resignation. He gazed off to the side as he struggled to make step after step, but Luca thought he was doing great.

"Yes, but... after the crash, it didn’t really mean much anymore. You get what I mean, right?"

Luca nodded in full agreement. He would feel exactly the same. Imagine helping Trampos to victory all season, only to suffer a lethal injury on the final MP. The thrill of lifting the trophy with capable hands and vigor would forever eclipse any posthumous medal or ceremonial gesture.

Jakobsen’s crash was already grave enough to speak about, so Luca avoided it. But it seemed Robert himself hadn’t had someone new, someone still inside the racing circle, to actually open up to and revisit how history played itself out.

"It was just as if he was targeting me throughout the entire race. You know how you can sense when another driver isn’t just racing, but chasing you? That’s how Davide was. It felt like he had me as an objective rather than an obstruction for the position. Every lap, the same corners, the same lines..."

Jakobsen narrated it all without bitterness, just fatigue, and a strangely carefree aura.

"And I didn’t want to back down, of course. I was ambitious, just like you are now. I was THE PRODIGY of F1. Sigh. But it’s all fine now. As long as I’m alive, and as long as every one of us is alive. Heavens... R.I.P. Hahn. Even your crash with Davide is a miracle. It’s a good thing he’ll be back in just half a year."

Luca didn’t want to be a bad thinker, but he found Jakobsen’s last sentence coming right after the "R.I.P. Hahn" line, a bit unrealistic. In truth, he thought it’d have been more satisfying if Jakobsen had even made a dry joke about DiMarco deserving more time in the hospital or something of the sort. After all, in a way, Luca had avenged him even if not completely. At the very least, he had stripped DiMarco of his championship hopes.

Suddenly, Luca began to see Jakobsen as someone too calm for what had happened to him. This was a racer whose spine had been hurt, whose dreams were ground into carbon and left behind at the Singapore chicane—yet here he was, balancing politeness and forgiveness like he hadn’t once been built to roar and devour laps.

Luca furrowed his brows faintly, still watching Robert shift forward on the crutches, taking slow, rhythmic steps as the sun gilded the porch in gold.

There were two ways to this. It was either Jakobsen had learned peak Aristocratic values and had mastered life beyond what most people think and live for. And so, he found no reason to be mad or anything more. If not that, then it had to be that he was a pushover.

However, Luca didn’t know there was a third path to this. But he would soon uncover it. His ears burned with every word that left the retired racer’s lips.

"Davide visited me..."

"...we took a photo..."

"Shared a hug..."

"He apologized..."

The Davide DiMarco Luca knew would never do any of those things, not to a rival he injured! He quietly stared at the Dutchman, trying to be sure if this was really the same Jakobsen who had nearly lost his life... telling him there was a photo of him and DiMarco—post the incident—right inside the house.

Luca was glad he visited Jakobsen, because now, he had found something else to immerse his attention in beyond the actual racing action.

Robert Jakobsen’s crash in Singapore was a turning point in F1’s history and although not fully proven, no one could tell Luca otherwise. He was certain of it. Because the chain of events that followed afterwards told him all he needed to know.

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