2 – I want to be a formula one, raice runner

My story with Pierre begins many, many years ago, in his beloved and native City, Miami. He used to talk with me since the first moment I met Pierre, about his bestfriend from childhood. He used to talk about two little boys united by a strong friendship that only many decades later would be sadly tarnished by the existence of an unbridled, forbidden, and clandestine love that would wildly shake all the foundations on which their relationship had been built...but I guess I am digressing from the subject. Those kids I'm talking about, of course, are Mathewo and Pierre. As unbelievable as it sounds, Pierre stills remember perfectly the moment Mathew and He met because that's really what happens to the moments that are to be important and defining in your life... and they two were so important in life of each other.

Their friendship sticks with you like a sticker, like an indelible tattoo that can never be erased, or at least not easily. At that time Mathew was about seven years old, maybe eight, and although it is an age that many might consider too tender to make any important decision, Pierre already knew very well what He wanted to be, He wanted to be a rich man of business like his dad, but Mathew for other hand, he always loved risk and sports. One afternoon, on television, Mathew saw the summary of a race that had recently taken place, and the image of those shiny cars, the speed with which they raced, and the ecstasy in which their drivers seemed to be always immersed had left him so impressed, that He had automatically made the decision that this was what He wanted for his life. That was the reason why the two bigger love say goodbye to each other, Mathew travel to Europe to become into a great racing runner.

Pierre remember seing Mathew sitting with his eyes like saucers fixed on the TV, just as He remember perfectly the moment when his father Pierre Gustav, decided to take a space next to him on the sofa and also noticed the curiosity of Mathew staring the cars.

• Do you like what you see," he asked Mathew and although Mathew didn't dare look away from the screen to see him, Pierre knew his friend was smiling. Do you like racing, Mathew?

-I love them," He replied with the raw sincerity that sometimes characterizes children of that age. They're...great.

• Do you know what they are called?

-They are... cars. They are cars.

“They have a much more specific name,Dad” replied Pierre, laughing at his dad words.

• You are right son – Says Pierre Gustav to his firstborn. - They are called formula one cars, and they are among the most prestigious and famous in the world.

For a brief moment, the two children, were both completely silent, their eyes always fixed on the screen. After watching the red car overtake the green one, and watching it skid around a corner and then regain control as if it were really no big deal, Mathew was so impressed that He blurted out:

-I want to be like that.

• I beg your pardon," asked Dad´s Pierre - who, like Mathew, had been concentrating hard on the race.

-I want to be in one of those races," Mathew repeated, with complete confidence, not even considering the possibility that Pierre´s Dad might make fun of him. He really wanted to drive one of those cars.

And that day Pierre and his dad, that also was a dad for Mathew, they made a silent promise, they will help Mathew dreams to come true.

-Well, good for you, son," replied Pierre´s dad, with the same seriousness with which he would treat the comment if it had come from an adult.

-To become one you have to study hard and train even harder, probably you will have to move to London, so I advise you to start now, so you don't get caught in the afternoon.

Immediately after the race came to an end, Mathew felt the compelling need to put into practice the advice Pierre´s Dad had just given him. It would have been more than perfect for his improvised enterprise to have a toy car, a monkey skate or at least a bicycle with which to practice, but since time had turned against Mathew and He had no more opportunity to look for any of that, He decided it was best to work with what He had, so He left the house towards the park on the corner without ceasing to imitate with his lips the sound that Mathew thought most resembled an engine. A couple of people looked at him as if He had gone crazy at such a young age, of course, but Mathew couldn't have cared less; He had a dream just born into his heart, He had just found his purpose in life, just being a child. His main goal, and He was working so hard for it, that there was nothing else in the world that could be of greater importance.

• What are you doing?

As soon as Mathew heard the voice, his running was suddenly interrupted, for He was suddenly besieged by curiosity; all the people He had come across so far had done nothing but give him looks that in no way disguised their mockery and disgust, and that was the first time anyone had ever spoken to him. It turned out that He had stopped in front of the sandbank in the park, where many children (He had counted myself among them many times), used to play at making sandcastles and that sort of thing. At that exact moment, it was empty, except for a little boy about Mathew age, other child, Pierre, with dark hair and a round face.

Pierre seemed to be playing with his cars, which he had made a fabulous track for using the very sands underneath him. Mathew only had to see him to know that he was the one who had spoken, and although Mathew had no way of knowing it at the time, that first glance was enough to firmly and irreversibly seal the friendship that would unite us for many years to come.