Formula 1: The GOAT

With the planning for their move ongoing, Rümeysa spent a large portion of that year traveling abroad to finish some of the required preparations face-to-face to have peace of mind. Meanwhile, Fatih continued his daily routine with no major changes: going to school, returning home, writing an article, practicing on a rented karting track in preparation for the weekend, writing his guesses if it was a race weekend, and participating in the karting championship if it was that weekend.

Although he was not expected to be in Turkey for the finals of these competitions, as he was scheduled to leave in August (a month before the final), TOSFED, already making moves after Rümeysa agreed to their offer, suggested he continue participating. This was to prevent him from getting rusty and to act as an ideal that would push the other drivers by showing them what was possible. They went as far as to allow him to participate in two categories at once, KF-Mini and KF-Junior, albeit in slightly underpowered karts at Burak’s request to increase his competition in preparation for Europe. Despite this, he was still dominating, but in a different way than he had previously.

His YouTube channel was also undergoing a continuous rise as more and more people started knowing about him. With high-quality episodes coming every two weeks, the number of subscribers continued to increase with each passing day, while the viewership increased even faster. The same was happening on The Conqueror’s side of things, which was also experiencing large growth because its office now had full-time employees overseeing the detailed breakdown of Fatih’s general directions. At Fatih’s suggestion, motorsports reporters were now being hired and paid on a per-article basis or fully hired for those who wanted full-time work security.

Despite all of that, a large amount of money still remained from his monthly earnings, which he had immediately asked his mother to invest instead of just letting it sit. Leveraging the sixth sense he had shown and proven through his largest money-making venture, he suggested his mother buy shares of Facebook, Nvidia, Tesla, AMD, Apple, Amazon, and Microsoft, with nearly half of it being invested in Tesla, which he remembered peaking at over $1,200, buying it at $6.50 per share. He planned to continue purchasing these shares using the remaining portion of every month’s earnings.

Finally, August arrived. With everything ready, Fatih and his family, with Burak tagging along as a TOSFED-funded coach and a cameraman, took off to the skies, heading to the UK, which would be his base for his international karting career.

Arriving in Surrey a day after their travel, it took them a full week before they completed all home preparations after moving and settling into the house they had rented. Following that, Rümeysa spent the next week finishing his school enrollment for the next academic year, having everything ready for his upcoming, very important test.

……

The lush greenery of the English countryside passed by at high speed, a stark contrast to the urban sprawl of Istanbul. Fatih watched from the window of the rented Range Rover as his mother, the only one with an international license among them, drove. Burak sat in the passenger seat, reading a brochure about the area they were heading to. In the back of the car, Fatih was joined by his cameraman, who was recording him as he looked out the window.

After they veered from the main motorway and onto a series of narrow country lanes for a few minutes, tucked away behind a row of unassuming hedges, was a modern, grey-clad industrial unit. The only sign of its purpose was a small, discreet logo on the door: a stylized RFM in white and red. They had finally arrived in Motorsport Valley.

Rümeysa parked the car in a designated visitor’s spot. As they stepped out, the crisp autumn air was cut by the distant, high-pitched scream of a two-stroke engine from the nearby Whilton Mill circuit. It was a sound Fatih knew better than his own heartbeat.

Burak, who had walked to the boot of the car to get his bag, and Rümeysa and the rest of the team were welcomed by a young man who, after shaking hands and introducing himself, said, “You are right on time, and they are waiting for you, so we can head inside,” while the cameraman moved slightly behind them to record the scene.

As they started walking to the building, the workshop door slid open before they reached it. From the other side, a man in his late fifties with a lean frame, sharp eyes, and a calm, no-nonsense expression, wearing a blue team polo shirt, stepped out with his hand extended. He glanced momentarily at the cameraman, swallowing a slight dissatisfaction without telegraphing it on his face.

“Rümeysa,” he said, his tone professional but not unfriendly. “Ricky Flynn. Welcome to RFM.” He then turned his gaze to Fatih, looking him over for a moment. “You must be Fatih.”

Fatih met his gaze and nodded. “Yes, sir. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Ricky’s lips twitched in what might have been the beginning of a smile. “And this is your coach, Burak, I presume.” He shook Burak’s hand.

“I’m his grandmother,” Güldane said as Ricky extended his hand to her. he gave a slight nod to the cameraman.

“Right. Let’s not waste time standing in the cold. Come on in.”

He led them into the workshop, and Fatih felt a jolt of pure, unadulterated awe. It was less a garage and more a surgical theater for racing karts. The grey floor was polished to a mirror shine, reflecting the cool, white light from the overhead fixtures. Along one wall, a row of brand-new OTK chassis, bare and gleaming in their signature green, were mounted like works of art. On the other hand, massive red tool chests stood at attention next to workstations where mechanics in matching RFM gear were meticulously assembling engines. The air was filled with a quiet, focused intensity. This was a place of business, and the business was winning.

A younger man, probably in his early thirties, with a laptop tucked under his arm and a headset around his neck, approached them.

“This is Steve,” Ricky said. “He’ll be your lead engineer for the evaluation. He’s worked with all our champions.”

Steve shook Rümeysa’s hand first, Güldane’s second, then Burak’s. He crouched slightly to be at Fatih’s eye level. “Alright, Fatih? Ready to have a go?” he asked, his accent a friendly Cockney.

Fatih nodded again, his eyes still taking in the sheer professionalism of the environment.

Ricky gestured towards a small, glass-walled office in the corner of the workshop. “Let’s have a quick chat, and then we’ll get you kitted out.”

As they walked inside the room, the cameraman remained outside, recording from the other side of the glass to allow them privacy during their conversation.

Inside the office, the walls were covered in photos of drivers celebrating victories, Fatih recognized a much younger Lando Norris in several of them. Ricky sat behind a simple desk, with Steve standing beside him. Rümeysa took a seat, with Güldane, Fatih, and Burak beside her.

“Alright, here’s the plan for today,” Ricky began, getting straight to the point. “This is an evaluation that will determine the level of support you will be receiving from us, and for that, we need to see what we’re working with. Steve will walk you through the specifics, but the day is broken into four phases.”

Steve stepped forward, tapping his laptop. “Phase one is acclimatization. We’ve got a new chassis and a fresh engine for you. The first session is just for you to learn the kart and the PFI circuit. No pressure on lap times. Just get comfortable.”

He continued, his tone becoming more focused. “Phase two is feedback and setup. After your first run, you’ll tell us exactly what the kart is doing. Understeer, oversteer, braking stability… be as precise as you can. We’ll make the changes you ask for and send you back out. We need to see how you interpret the car’s behavior.”

Ricky took over again. “For phase three, we’ll put you on track with a benchmark. Enaam will be running today.” He gestured through the glass to a slightly older boy in a matching race suit who was stretching nearby. “He’s our European Championship fifth-place finisher.. We’ll run a fifteen-lap race simulation. We don’t expect you to beat him. We want to see your racecraft. We want to see if you can learn from following a faster driver.”

“And finally,” Steve concluded, “phase four is the qualifying simulation. New tires. Low fuel. We’ll give you five laps to set the fastest time you can. That will give us your baseline pace. Any questions?”

“I have none,” Rümeysa said before she turned and looked at Fatih. “Do you understand everything?”

Fatih’s gaze shifted from Ricky to Steve. The childish awe was gone, replaced by a familiar, cold focus. The racer had taken over.

“Yes,” he said, his voice clear and steady. “I understand. When do I get in the kart?”

But inwardly, he was very excited to finally have a chance to benchmark himself against someone who had already proven themselves on the international stage, while also being able to see what his pace was compared to Lando Norris, who had been their driver and whose data he could now compare himself to.

Although he was only hiring them as a private service for the few races he would be competing in this year, due to missing the start of many competitions, they didn’t accept him easily. Despite the letter of recommendation from TOSFED endorsing him, RFM needed to protect their brand. Poor performance would make their equipment and service look subpar, and they wouldn’t be able to justify their high per-race prices. The recommendation letter guaranteed his acceptance, but his performance would determine the level of service. If he were slow, he would receive the standard package. But if he showed pace, he would get the best mechanic, the lead engineer, and the newest, best-prepared equipment.