Q3 had gone very well. Both Alfa Romeos were on the front row of the Monaco Grand Prix. Shue achieved his first pole in Formula 1, just a few thousandths ahead of his teammate. He'd been thrilled; the team was ecstatic to have both cars on the front row. Earlier, in the final round of qualifying, Ronaldo had put up the fastest time. Two flying lap attempts later, Shue had posted the third fastest time behind the McLaren of LaConte and Ronaldo. He'd had time for one more flying lap.

"Sector one, purple," Tommy had reported, letting his driver know he'd set the fastest time for that section. "Push, push."

Shue didn't answer concentrating on the drive. The rear left tire just grazing the wall exiting turn nine.

"I made contact with the wall," he reported. "Everything seems fine."

"All green across the board," Tommy confirmed. Then looked to the heavens. That had been too close.

"Sector two green," Tommy said, informing Shue he'd set a personal best. At least one other car had set a faster time than him.

Shue bit his lip. The fourteen/fifteen chicane had gone perfectly. When he nailed the apexes at both seventeen and eighteen, he knew he had a chance.

Like a thoroughbred at the Kentucky Derby, his car responded finding a few extra km/h. They lunged across the finish line. As he decelerated Shue waited for the result, not breathing.

"P1, baby, P1!" Tommy exclaimed. "You did it!"

"We all did it," Shue corrected, raising his hand to wave at the cheering crowd. "Thanks guys, great job on the car. It feels perfect." He had pole position at Monaco! It was the most satisfaction he'd felt since joining the Formula 1 grid.

The next day in the race, Ronaldo got a great start and grabbed the lead in the first corner and hadn't relinquished it since. For five laps Shue tried in vain to get past the other Alfa Romeo but just could not find an opening. During lap six, pushing too hard, Shue had locked up the tires, shifting and braking later than he should, almost skidding into the other Alfa Romeo. While barely avoiding contact, he'd been forced to swerve over the inside curb bouncing hard and had to wait for his car to settle before he could accelerate. He gasped a sigh of relief as he avoided collision, but then watched in frustration as the #25 car sped ahead. If he'd taken out his teammate, removing one or both cars from the race would have been disastrous to the team. The gap between Shue and his teammate had grown steadily since, despite some good laps. The old guy had hidden some speed during practice.

The four race leaders all pitted on lap fifty-one of the seventy-seven lap race. LaConte's pit stop had been disastrous. The front right wheel nut stripped and took a full eight seconds to change. By contrast, Severinsen left the Ferrari pit in two point one seconds, leaving the McLaren far behind.

With Ronaldo out of reach, Shue had backed off the pace giving his car a little extra clearance from the walls on the treacherous course.

"Two laps remaining," Tommy reported. "Cannini ten point five ahead, Severinsen five point three behind."

"FYI," Tommy added, "A McLaren is closing on the Ferrari and it isn't LaConte."

"Relevant information only," Shue reminded his new Race Engineer, this far into a race concentration is difficult enough to keep hold of.

"Right, sorry," Tommy apologized. "Bring us home safe."

"Will do."