1973 Rally di Fruinia [FINISHED]

Community Challenges & Competitions
466

Power delivery > raw power.

Consistency > raw speed.

(Ask @Watermelon3878 all about it in terms of this competition.)

1 Like
467

Welp, all hope in classic Eagles
 204, 203 & 604.

468

Oh, a lot of things can happen. Don’t forget all cars have a roll on engine reliability and car reliability (0-1000) for each sub-stage time. Every roll over the reliability is a 0:05.00 penalty on the actual time. So that plays a role as well. Plus the other stages are different as to what strengths and weaknesses are important.

469

I know. Let me elaborate.

Silverbirds are kinda a Polish meme
303 is a comfortable family wagon
802 is some old junk from '52

But 204, 203 and 604 are “classic”. They’ve been designed and built with the victorious Eagle 202 in mind, they tick all the Eagle-Lore boxes, and I really put my heart, soul, time and whatever else into them. I just meant that they’re more important to me and the company. EAG LETs are just an experiment.

470

My first reaction: Oof, I didn’t do well despite the “blistering time”.

After seeing I was a dumdum and didn’t realize there was a timetable: Yippee! Second place! Woo!

(Next parts of my story coming Soonℱ)

471

unnecessary throwing of shade
but I mean you are right


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overall it’s actually I pretty pathetic torque curve
it’s more peaky than a god damn F40 :joy:

472

I have made that more clear.

What made you make that comment?

473

that

2 Likes
474

How is that throwing shade!?

You did build race cars for this competition that are far more powerful than the competition!

475

My cars are race-ish too

476

I’m not talking appearance. Yours were technically not tuned like a GT or touring car engine.

477

Spanish lutoza and nugget have the same video in stage 1

478

Well, that’s not how it’s supposed to be :stuck_out_tongue:

I’ve corrected that!

479

My cars didnt have too crazy engines but they have fiberglass panels and maybe spaceframes (i cant remember)

480

We were talking about the engines, Watermelon was pretty active in this thread and went for the most race car approach there. That’s why I involved him in that discussion. Since Elektrycerz was surprised power and raw speed were either not winning it, or that others outclassed him in those terms.

481

We’ll see what’ll happen next. I can always blame it on the cross-ply tires.

8 Likes
482

I’m not legit mad, just messin’ :stuck_out_tongue_winking_eye:

It’s because you had to call it out to, y’know, the entire forum
And before you say it, yes, I did post a screenshot

1 Like
483

If EAG LET doesn’t build an AE86 replica in the '80s, I would be surprised, considering how much of a meme company it’s turning out to be.

Meanwhile


The Brave Little Jalopies

Previous Post (in which our heroes mess around with each other and accomplish little):

Chapter 3 (in which our heroes travel to Fruinia in a 1,200-horsepower meme machine)

“Hello, hello!” John cheered as he opened the front door of the warehouse. “I see that this place still has people living in it.”

Janet’s hopes had dashed the moment that she saw this unknown man before her. As he walked toward her, her eyes welled up with tears so much that she could barely distinguish his grey jacket from the unpainted concrete walls of the building. She tried reaching for something to rest herself upon, but ended up poking John in the arm instead.

“Ow!” John snapped. “What was that for?”

“S-sorry, it’s just that
w-well, I
” Janet stuttered.

It then hit John in the face what everyone might have been upset about - or so he thought. “You don’t want me here, don’t you?”

“Well, not necessarily
” Sydney began.

“'Course, we didn’t,” Frank spat. “We don’t need another Alex runnin’ around the place. Especially not one who doesn’t bother cuttin’ their hair.”

John gave the grumpy elder a sly smirk as he ran his hand through his scruffy curls. “I find this to be fabulous, thank you very much.”

“Well, it sure would be fabulous knowing who you are and what you’re doin’ here.”

“‘Cause we were sorta expectin’ someone else to show up,” Alex said. “After all, it ain’t every day you hear a big ol’ vee-twelve purrin’ up to your doorstep.”

“I’m John Marshmallow, and I’m here to tell you that I saw your friends recently,” John replied.
Everyone except Frank stared at him in ecstasy like they had never felt before.

“You have?” Sydney said.

“Yes, I have.”

“Are they nearby? Did they come with you?” Tom asked.

“Do they still remember us?” Janet squeaked.

“Well
no. They’ve gone far away.”

Everyone’s faces fell to the floor at what John might have meant. Some literally, as Janet burst into tears and wailed at a painfully-high pitch.

“No!” Tom yelled as he joined his friend in their slow-motion freefall.

Alex hummed a soft tune in the ensuing chaos, while Frank and Sydney’s glares grew ever sharper. The latter decided to look out the window and spotted a huge black wagon adorned with flames, chrome side stripes, and ‘BAM RAMER’ written on its front bumper.

“I didn’t mean they were that kind of gone!” John said.

“STOP IT!” Sydney yelled before she jumped onto a chair. “We’re going out with him!”

“What?!” everyone except John replied.

“What are you talking about? What do you mean?” Frank inquired.

“Exactly what I said,” Sydney said. “We’re going out with John to find Greta and Gordon!”

“But-but we don’t know where they’ve gone,” Janet replied.

“I don’t know, either
but he knows!”

“Or thinks he knows,” Frank grumbled. “But really, come off it. Be serious.”

“I am serious!” Sydney snapped.

“You’re mad!”

“Why, if only we were all seagulls, we could locate our friends from anywhere in the world.”

Everyone stared at Alex as though he had suggested that August had become their best friend.

“What?” Sydney asked.

“Or maybe it was a pelican. I dunno, any sort of long-travelin’ bird would do us well.”

“You’re all mad!” Frank snapped as he backed far away from everyone.

“I’m not, if that helps any of you,” John said. “Besides, you wouldn’t want to miss out on your chance to participate in a rally, would you?”

“Speaking of you
is this thing you want to bring us into a safe thing to do?” Tom asked.

“Oh, sure, it’s perfectly safe. Why, it’s the official rally of Fruinia; you can’t get any more legal or safe than that,” John replied. “And anyway, it’s not like any of you have anything better to do.”

At the mention of ‘official’, Sydney’s face lit up like a lightbulb. “Guys, I have the perfect idea!”

“What?” everyone but John asked.

“So, this rally’s obviously going to be reported on by a bunch of people
”

“Yeah,” Janet said.

“
and if we happen to join in on the fun
”

“
and potentially place high enough
” Tom continued.

“
or dash past our competition and gloriously defeat 'em!” Alex interjected.

“And not crash
” Frank remarked.

“
then we could bring enough attention to ourselves that Greta and Gordon could come to us,” Sydney finished. “Sure, we might not win, but wherever they might be, I think that our friends will notice our names and do whatever they can to come to us, and–wait, where’s this rally again?”

“Fruinia,” John said.

“Where’s that supposed to be?” Janet asked.

“Oh, it’s
somewhere in Europe. It’s quite similar to Italy, if you want a frame of reference on the culture.”

“What’s like Italy?” a familiar voice said.

Everyone turned around to see August sitting in his chair like he always had - as if his rage attack had done nothing to his internals.

“What?” he asked. “You guys were thinkin’ I was a goner? Hah! I’ve been practicing that all the time that your friends’ve been gone.”

“So, everyone onboard with this idea?” John said in an attempt to bring the conversation back to the rally. “Besides you, Sydney, of course.”

“I’m going with or without them,” Sydney replied. “As for everyone else
”

“I’m comin’ with you!” Alex said. “Oh, boy, I’ve always wanted to be in a rally. The open trails, the wind flyin’ in my face, the dirt gunkin’ up my hair.”

Although few people seemed to share Alex’s enjoyment of rallying, all of them seemed to want to come with Sydney.

“I was thinking
you guys probably need someone who can fix things along,” Tom said.

“Listen to this,” Alex commented. “Le Mans of ‘66, a Ford GT’s engine’s almost gone, and who else but Thomas to put it back in winnin’ order?”

“I’d come
if ya’d mind fixin’ me up first,” August grumbled.

“Oh, I can do that,” John said.

“Thanks.”

Everyone paused and stared at Frank - who was staring at the floor and trying to ignore them.

“I thought it’d be good to have somebody come along
” Sydney said, “
who’s really
strong.”

“And loud,” Tom snapped.

“And grumpy!” Janet snarled.

“And annoying,” August retorted.

“And oblivious to everythin’,” Alex chimed in.

John snorted at Alex’s remark - a reaction that caused Sydney to poke her friends rather forcefully.

“Well?” she asked.

Frank walked towards the group with a sharp glare and stopped in front of them. “I just know I’m gonna regret this.”

Everyone cheered - except August - and John said, “Well, that settles it, then.”

“But how exactly are we going to come with you, exactly?” Tom asked.

“I mean, we could piggyback on top o’ Frank, if he doesn’t mind,” Alex suggested with a sly grin.

“No!” everyone else replied.

“Or maybe we could
” Tom began.

“No, guys, look, I already have the whole transportation thing sorted out,” John said. “You just need to get in my brother’s wagon and we can head on outta here.”

As he was walking to the door, Sydney burst out, “But wait! We don’t have our stuff!”

“And you two aren’t dressed!” Frank snapped at Tom and Alex.

“Hey, pipe down, slowpoke,” Alex said. “I’m sure I could get ready faster than you could get out that door.”

“Well, then, go! Show me your get-readying speed! Or whatever it is,” John replied as he opened the door. “Jordan’s not gonna wait all day for you guys.” He turned his head out the door and shouted, “Hey, Jordan! Everyone’s coming with us
no, that doesn’t mean you can drive like you usually do to show off, boy. It means we have drivers for our cars!”

John headed back in and walked straight towards August - who was a bit surprised at receiving direct attention from a visitor.

“Hey, what’cha doin’, kid?” August said.

“I’m doing what you asked of me, remember?” John replied. “Now, let’s get these casts off of you.”

As everyone else did not want to be witness to makeshift doctor, they all ran to their respective rooms without looking back. From what could be heard, the horror show they were all expecting did not come to be as John slowly removed all three of August’s casts. By the time everyone else had packed up their stuff - and Alex and Tom had gotten dressed into their best suits - John was still trying to split August’s right leg cast over the argument the two of them were having.

“Just get it over with, would’ya?!” August snarled.

“I’m trying to do that, but I’m also trying to not break you in the process!” John replied.

“Well, then, just break me a little and we can be on our way faster, and–oh. Oh
oh, that hurt.”

“See?” John said as he pulled the cast off August’s leg. “Just needed to wait a little bit longer.”

Everyone else decided to walk away and out the door, where they immediately were taken aback by the two cars in front of them. Sydney was especially confused by the little light-blue sedan that was parked in front of the flame-covered black wagon.

“So, which car do we pick?” she asked.

The driver’s door window of the wagon rolled down, revealing a man who looked very similar to John. “Hop in!” he said. “Unless, of course, you wanna be with the slowpokes in the Fauxhill.”

“Another one of these punks?” Frank said. “Good grief.”

“The what?” everyone else asked as they walked towards the man’s wagon.

“Fauxhill,” he replied. “You know, like Vauxhall, except even worse. It’s one of John’s cars that’s being driven by someone slower than him.”

“Whatever,” Tom said before he and most of his fellow Jalopies piled their belongings into the vehicle. “Hey! This thing’s got so much space in the back!”

“Man, these seats are so comfy!” Janet squealed from the third row.

“And even with us all in here, it shouldn’t be too crampy, either,” Sydney commented as she closed the hatch.

“Yeah, it’s a big ol’ luxury wagon, and
hang on,” the driver replied before he stuck his head out the window. “Hey! What are you doing back there?”

“Just reading the bumper stickers of this
Hyperwagon,” Tom said. “What’s all this? ‘Znooresk’? ‘Boplick’? ‘Suzuming’?”

“Why d’you need to repel cars that go to sleep, then zoom past 'em and lick 'em?” Frank asked.

“More like why not?” Alex remarked. “Y’see, you repel those sleep-mobiles to prevent yourself from gettin’ sleepy, then ya zoom past ‘em while they’re still sleepin’ and - if they come back - ya give ‘em a nice bop an’ a lick and carry on your day. Ain’t that right, err
?”

“Jordan Marshmallow,” the driver of the Hyperwagon replied. “And you’re right about that.”

“Hey, guys, look!” Sydney said as the door to the warehouse opened. “August’s walking!”

Everyone but Frank cheered once again and clapped as August walked towards the big black car, even though he was giving all of them a glare sharp enough to kill them.

“Just get in the car,” he said as he opened the back door of the Hyperwagon.

All his ‘friends’ followed him into the vehicle and looked around at the beautifully-adorned black leather interior. Even Frank was surprised at the softness of the second-row bench seat, As he settled himself behind Jordan, he saw John hop shotgun and give the driver a suspicious stare.

“Alright, Jordan,” John said as his brother fired up the big vee-twelve and shifted into gear, “all you need to do is follow Joan in the Fauxhill to the qualifying place without killing our friends, and we should be fine.”

“Aw, come on, John,” Jordan replied, “that sedan’s the slowest thing on Earth! How are we supposed to make it by the time she gets it into second gear?”

“We will make it, bro. We will make it. She just needs to get up to 45 miles per hour and we’ll go right through the portal her car’ll form for us. And she doesn’t need four cams, 48 valves, seven liters, twelve cylinders, two turbos, EFI, and all-wheel-drive to get there.”

Sure enough, the Fauxhill began to accelerate faster than the Hyperwagon as the road sharply declined. Jordan wrestled his massive, fire-breathing steel dragon through every switchback in front of him, desperately trying to keep up with a miniscule sedan.

“Come on, turbos
come on
” Jordan said. “Kick in!”

There was a loud hiss, then a wail as the two massive snails under the Hyperwagon’s hood boosted it towards the Fauxhill right as the two vehicles got onto the straight. The forest began to fade away, as did the towering city in the distance.

“Hold on, everyone!” Jordan shouted. “You’re about to witness the power of the Hyperwagon!”

Sydney grabbed the roof handle as hard as she could, as did everyone else, as the familar dark greens of the American Midwest transformed into a light-green plain scattered with mountains and patches of trees.

“Ooohh
” almost all the Jalopies said.

“Welcome, everyone, to the country of Fruinia,” John said. “Now, we’re in the same year as you guys were just in - almost the same month, even - but–Jordan, is there a problem?”

“Yeah, there’s a problem!” Jordan snapped back.

“What, does it have to do with us?” Sydney asked.

“Nope
the problem is, we’re an hour or two away from where we’re supposed to be


and we only have two hours to get there.”

Chapter 4 (in which our heroes sing a song I wrote, almost die before getting to qualifying, and witness the power of the Hyperwagon)

After a while of inching along the coast of Frucilia, Jordan’s temper had risen to its bursting point - and he made no indication of hiding his frustration.

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“MOVE IT!” he bellowed as Joan’s little blue Fauxhill puttered up to 45 miles per hour. “Man, I knew that those cars were junk and powered by the wrong wheels, but this is truly pathetic. Look at this! I’m barely pressing the throttle in 3rd gear, and I would be able to out-accelerate that little zit like it’s standing still if it weren’t blocking the whole road!” He sighed, “Well, sorry about this, guys, but I don’t think we’re gonna get to qualifying as fast as I’d like to.”

“Oh, that’s okay, Jordan” Sydney replied. “I was sort of enjoying the scenery, anyway.”

“Y-yeah
this place is beautiful,” Janet concurred. “What’s it called again?”

“Fruinia,” Jordan said. “A nation where slow, old, underpowered pieces of scrap like this are extremely popular.”

“What’s so bad about 'em?” Alex asked. “I mean, sure, they ain’t got a million horses, but that Z2-whatever that we went by a while ago didn’t seem too bad.”

“Znooresk Z215 Sala. A pretty good car considering what it is
unlike some of their competitors,” Jordan replied with a sly grin. “Take John’s Mouton brand, for instance. They’ve got two rear-engined compact cars - the Premier and the even-smaller Cherie - and each trim of those models is named after the number of failures they have per hour. So a Cherie 600 E will have 600 parts fail per hour, while a 750 L will have 750 parts failures every hour - double for the R version. Then there’s the US-only Premier 1000FES, which has 1000 parts fail every second - which is what the baguettes who build those things call ‘perfect reliability’. It’s a miracle that anybody buys such ‘amazing’ little cars like those, when they could be driving around in a glorious, stylish turbocharged V12 land barge with 1200 horsepower.”

“I drive a Premier every day, and it’s a hoot to drive while it works,” John said. “Which is always.”

“Well, I never knew that food could build a car,” Tom commented. “This world’s even more crazy that I thought it was.”

Everyone else stared at Jordan with quizzical eyes for a few moments while they heard the Fauxhill’s inline-three wheeze and splutter under acceleration. Frank, on the other hand, could barely take any more of the youth’s nonsense. “So, lemme get this straight. You want everybody on this world to be drivin’ around in uncontrollable deathtraps instead of sensible cars like
oh, I dunno, that Fauxhill thing up ahead.”

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“Even I wouldn’t wanna see somethin’ like that happen,” August commented, “and I’m an Indy car, for cryin’ out loud! Or, at least, I was one.”

“Hey, every pre-1980s car is a deathtrap,” Jordan retorted. “It’s just that with my Hyperwagon, you get to go out in maximum style, spectactle, speed, and fun whilst carrying up to seven of your best friends with you to their untimely demises.”

“And you wonder why nobody gives you the job of building them their own cars,” John said. “Nobody would want to drive a lethargic old barge with a century of turbo lag.”

“Oh, really?”

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With that, John hummed a little tune as Sydney took up the job of improvising an answer for his brother.

“Why, of course
” she began.

Sydney: I wanna be the very best
At work or having fun
Alex: To pass 'em is my real test
On my way to number one

Janet: I wanna travel in luxury
Tom: As I’m flying to the stars
Sydney: When you get to the finish, you’ll see me
All: In my own supercar

Alex: We’re in the rally of '73
An event that’ll top them all
Janet: In this tiny far-away country
All: Where we’ll triumph unrivaled

All: So I
lay down the tire treads
Janet: As my engine revs to its limit
All: The speedo reads two hundred
Alex: And boy, I’m barely getting started

John: Woo-ooahhh!

All: I’m flying in luxury
Tom: As I travel to the stars
Sydney: When you get to the finish, you’ll see me
All: In my own supercar

Frank: But how’re we supposed to know
August: If we’re ever gonna win?
Frank: We’ve barely seen a mile of this land
August: Nor taken our cars for a spin

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Tom: Oh, worry not, my dear friend
Janet: For we’ll improvise when we need
Alex: With power, skill, and steady heads
Janet, Alex, Sydney, Tom: We surely will succeed

So I
lay down the tire treads
As my engine revs to its limit
The speedo reads two hundred
And folks, I’m barely getting started

Woo-ooahhh!

I’m flying in luxury
As I travel to the stars
When you get to the finish, you’ll see me
In my own supercar

As part of a makeshift interlude, the Jalopies decided to make random noises of varying intensity - with Tom and Alex resorting to smacking each other from across the rows.

Sydney: Fun
fun

Alex: On my way to number one
Janet: Fly
fly

Tom: As I travel to the stars

All: (In my own supercar!)

So I
lay down the tire treads
Woo-ooo!
The speedo reads two hundred
Zoo-ooom!
I’m flying in luxury
Vroo-ooom!
When you get to the finish, you’ll see me
In my own supercar-car-car


When they had finished singing, Joan and Drift-Bash’s Fauxhill was coming up a crest at a snail’s pace, its overworked inline-three struggling to haul all of the sedan’s 650 kilograms through the front wheels.

“You want a supercar, eh?” Jordan sneered. “Well, I’ll give you a supercar!”

“No, no, don’t! DON’T!” John replied.

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The Hyperwagon accelerated hard enough to squeal all four tires before Jordan yanked the wheel to the right. The V12’s pistons slapped in their bores, the 48 valves tapped at a hundred score, and the two giant snails boosted until they could no more. Jordan flicked the high-beams and foglights on for maximum vision as they came over the crest. 1,200 furious, romping horses mercilessly twisted the five-speed’s shafts and rocketed three tons of passengers and Russian steel alongside the rear of the miniscule British sedan. The speedometer whipped around almost as fast as the boost gauge - first it was barely crossing 50, then it flicked to 65 as Jordan pummeled the wagon headlong down the hill. The Statesman would have blasted by just about anything on the roads if it had not been for


“JORDAN, WATCH THE ROAD!” John suddenly yelled.

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The Hyperwagon’s left rocker panel smacked hard into a rock that was just far enough out for the big barge to run into. All the Jalopies screamed as they were jostled around the plush bench seats. Sydney clung onto the wagon’s roof handle as hard as she could - hard enough for it to shatter to pieces in her grip. Everyone else bonked heads with each other while the black box screamed along on two wheels, perilously close to falling on its side. Joan and Drift-Bash both decided to belt the poor old Fauxhill and accelerate from the chaos behind them. Even though its miniscule inline-three coughed and spluttered once again under the sudden stress, it gradually pulled away from the KZNG.

As the Hyperwagon’s tires barely skimmed along the ground, the 80-3E pelted down the road at over 55 miles per hour, extending its gap to the modified Statesman. Especially when said modified Statesman bopped into another rock at the next corner, sending its occupants diving towards the interior pieces in front of them. When the wagon finally clunked down on all four wheels, everyone except Jordan groaned in pain and agitation before lashing out in a torrent of fury.

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“You dummy! What were you thinking trying to pass there?!” John bellowed.

“Didn’t you realize that that gap was too tight?” Frank spat.

“We were doing just fine behind the Fauxhill,” Sydney whined.

“Ooowww
” Janet, Alex, and Tom cried.

“Watch this!” Jordan cheered as he revved the Hyperwagon’s V12 and launched it into first in a squeal of speed.

Every passenger in the KZNG braced themselves as the Statesman’s two turbos spooled up again and boosted them towards the disappearing blue speck in the distance. The Fauxhill became larger and larger as the Hyperwagon’s engine whirred to 6,000 revolutions per minute, all twelve cylinders smacking in time with each other in a symphonic dance of ultimate power. As Joan turned off the main road, Jordan stabbed on the brakes and yanked the big wagon sideway around the bend. He hurtled up the next hill before braking hard on the blue sedan’s rear bumper.

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“So that’s why you have all that fancy-schmancy tech onboard,” August commented.

“I’m surprised none of you blew up in shock when I put my foot down,” Jordan retorted. “Then again, you all were having the time of your lives, and–”

“Hey! They’re pulling off!” John said.

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Jordan’s head snapped forwards just in time to see the Fauxhill begin to turn off onto a dirt road. Without saying a word, he punched the throttle and sliced the giant wagon through the shrinking gap between the sedan and a rock on the side of the road. The two turbos sneezed as he let off the gas before slamming it once more.

“Jordan
can we not have any more of these near-death experiences?” Sydney asked.

“We’re almost there, guys,” Jordan replied. “We’re almost there.”

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I know it’s a bit awkward to somewhat bump this thread, but I figured that while we’re waiting for the C1 results, why not have a bit of fun? (Also, from here on out, now that I’ve got the mostly-boring backstory out of the way, I most likely won’t be posting my stuff in spoilers.)

Back in the present


C0 Aftermath (in which one of our heroes complains about bucket seats, the Cherie’s drivers get into a fight about valvetrains and which one is superior, and the Hyperwagon rains fire everywhere)

As the Cherie blitzed through the finish gate at Naefoli, Amelie gradually brought the tiny compact down to 50 kilometers per hour and pulled into one of the empty Mouton stalls, where a small crowd was waiting expectantly for them. She unceremoniously killed #291’s small boxer-four and pushed the door ajar to let herself out of the car. Frank also pushed his door aside and stepped out of the miniscule Mouton’s race-stripped interior before it got bombarded by a flurry of purple-vested mechanics.

“Congratulations, Amelie,” Pierre said as he came up to hug his daughter. “Second place, and we were only six minutes behind the Latsun. I don’t know how an amateur could have worked so well with you, but you two got the fastest times in Sectors 1 and 5.”

Frank growled at the mention of being labeled an ‘amateur’ despite his decades of driving experience.

“Thanks, father,” Amelie replied. “And wait
we were that fast?”

“Absolutely! What else would I expect out of you in #291, my wonderful child?”

“That
has gotta be one of the most painful rides I’ve ever been on,” Frank said. “I wasn’t expecting much from a budget compact car, but still
couldn’t it have been any more comfortable?”

“I’m afraid that those are what you’ll have to stick with if you wanna keep racing legally,” John said as he walked towards the two racers. “They wouldn’t allow anything more than those sport bucket seats, and if you’re thinking of changing them, forget it. One team tried to get some non-regulation seats through the 1966 Great Archanan Trek, and
well, they had to replace those before the race began.”

“Right, I see that they want everyone to feel tired and crampy after a day’s drive in a little car.”

"Well, those are some typical side effects of small cars. So
how are you enjoying this so far? I mean, yeah, you two got beaten by the Latsun, but then again
that Latsun was quick compared to everything else.

“I couldn’t keep up with that thing, even with both of us at the top of our game,” Amelie said, “but we did get the fastest time in Sector 5, so I’m sure that if we had had just a bit more time
we would’ve beaten them.”

“Or broken something and crashed,” Frank retorted. "Anyway, anythin’ else you want from me before I head over to say hello to the drivers of the–

A loud rattle approached the Stage 1 checkpoint as the #61 KMC blitzed through the finish gate and screeched into its respective stall.

“Silva was only that close to beating me?” Amelie said. “But I thought she was miles behind me after that poor time in Sector 2.”

“Nope,” Pierre replied. “She got the fastest time in Sector 4. And you’re only leading her by
if she maintained similar pace through Sector 5
only three points.”

“Well, then
looks like we might have to up our pace a little to keep ahead of her,” Amelie said.

“If that fancy engine doesn’t strand us first.”

Everyone stopped what they were doing and stared awkwardly at Frank for a few moments.

“Don’t. Don’t you dare jinx us, or so help me, I’ll leave you on the side of the road if you can’t repair the Cherie.”

“And then Jordan’ll come along an’ pick me up.”

“Are you sure that your ‘precious’ monster of a man would care enough to pick up someone like you? I’m sure he’d enjoy destroying everyone else’s entries more than hitchhiking anyone, let alone a smelly old man who hates his modern technology.”

“I stick to things that work, okay? There’s a reason why we Americans stick to pushrods, and that’s because–”

A loud series of poppings and a roaring V12 cut off the argument as the Hyperwagon wildly burst through a side street behind the tents, sending promiscuous and fiery kitten deaths everywhere it went. As it skidded to a halt in front of the Cherie, the Hyperwagon’s driver’s door smacked into one of the tent poles and almost trapped the frightened people under its canvas roof. Jordan silenced his ride’s massive engine and stepped out of the interior before sneaking into the Cherie’s tent.

“Well, speak of the Devil,” Amelie spat.

“Surprised to see you’re still in the race. I thought you were too busy arguing with this old fart over here to get to the finish line, let alone in second place,” Jordan retorted. “And if you’re wondering what held me up, well
race traffic’s pretty intense in these parts, with all these spectators getting in their trashboxes and blockin’ my path.”

“But what about the BAM fans?” John asked. “Wouldn’t they come after you after you wrecked BAM’s race cars? I heard that you rammed the team transporter off the road with a suspiciously-familiar big black wagon.”

“I had nothing to do with that, and you know it, John. I wouldn’t touch those guys; they build cars I like, cars that have some class. And their fans didn’t bother me, either; they know better than to harass and accuse an innocent bystander of something as serious as that. Anyway, speaking of harassing, I have a Mr. Konstantly Bopalicking to meet today. Good day, everyone.”

With that, Jordan walked towards the Bogliq tents, where a certain Moldovan cheap-car businessman was not waiting for a crazy luxury-car-building tuner-bro to stop by his stand and start one-upping himself and his cars against one of the most powerful people in the world. John sighed as he watched his brother get stopped in front of the tent, hoping against all hope that the forest-blazing self-titled ‘Wicked Wrestler of the World’s Wildest Wagon’ would not be let in - at least not after the Fanatic 75AE turned up.

“Well, if nobody needs me here, I guess I’ll go off an’ congratulate the Latsun drivers who beat us,” Frank said as he trundled out of the Mouton tent.

@RaduST @HighOctaneLove You two can carry this from here if you want to - otherwise, I’ll just mention in the next part of this story that Frank congratulated (or attempted to congratulate) the D750 drivers with middling success at successful communication, and Jordan got (or attempted to get, if he’s refused at the door) his revenge on Mr. Bogliq after the Mutineer beat the KZNG Comrade in C5 qualifying. It’s completely optional, but I figured that it’d be in-character for Frank to congratulate those who beat him as a sign of respect, even though he doesn’t like losing (and it gives him an excuse to get away from Amelie, whom he doesnt’t enjoy driving with very much). And Jordan would be very likely to rub it in someone else’s face that they’re losing to him. (Even if it is technically his brother who’s doing the beating, as Jordan’s only got his tri-valve V12 Gatz Verno to champion his companies.)

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C1 - Coma Naefoli

Entrants:

Number Car Driver Co-Driver
5 F.E.A.B 141.rallye 1.1 Forza Ali Egonu (ITA) Francesco Guccini (ITA)
53 Teuvo Halo IS Sami Suomalainen (FIN) Elias Keskimaasto (FIN)
75 Hugi Aurea TS V2 Jimbo Tonsom (USA) Corzetti Milano (FRU)
84 Contendiente C100 Alejandro Flores (ESP) André Botelho (POR)
85 Bogliq Fanatic 115AE Shozo Fujino (JAP) Kan Tatsuda (JAP)
111 Mitsushita Kitty 100 GT Jussi Toivonen (FIN) Valto Juhanen (FIN)
113 Lutoza Avispa I [R] Lloyd Durand (FRA) Rio Martinez (ESP)
127 EAG LET Silverbird 4c Jan Mazur (POL) Paolo Pinto (ITA)
232 Mouton Premier 1100 R Alex Simmons (USA) Thomas Fowler (USA)
659 WM iSSi Whirlwind Llewellyn Lubenov (USA) Motshan Gospodinov (BGR)

Noon of the first day of the Rally di Fruinia special stage around Coma-Naefoli as we see the first C1 class cars take off. The first stages are the playground of the number 5 FEAB, closely followed in time by Flores and Botelho in the Contendiente and by the Mitsushita Kitty, and its Finnish drivers.

Less positive a start for the other Finns, Suomalainen and Keskimaasto are having issues with the engine of their Teuvo Halo. There are drivers that are suffering small technical issues, including Simmons in the Mouton Premier, although the time losses for the number 232 car appear to remain limited.

Disappointing second cluster for the FEAB despite an initially fast run, but some steering errors and a bump disaligning the steering slowed the Italians down. Bad luck as well for Lubenov and Gospodinov in the Wisconsin Motors car, which gets stuck in a ditch after losing control on a particularly bumpy stretch of road.

The top times this clusters are extremely close, with only half a minute between Tonsom, the American, and Milano, the only Fruinian pilot here, in the Hugi Aurea and the fifth time by Toivonen and Juhanen in the Mitsushita Kitty.

No sure what is the most memorable of the third stage cluster; the blistering pace of the Japanese team in the Bogliq or the first car out of the race. With insurmountable engine trouble, the number 53 Tuevo needs to give up. A very frustrated Keskimaasto almost causes a crash for the 75 Hugi Aurea when he kicks his toolbox into the road.

It’s not a bad run either for the Durand and Martinez in the Lutoza, though the remaining Finns, the Poles in the EAG LET and the FEAB are close; with Flores in the number 84 Contendiente picking up the last inter-stage points.

Nearing sunset and the later stages of the stage, Tonsom and Milano are trying the make up time lost in Finn-gate, and push the Hugi to its limits.

Meanwhile, issues with the engine for the Mouton Premier, and with the suspension for that other rear-engine car, the number 127 EAG LET.

A pretty anonymous race so far for Durand and Martinez in the Lutoza, but they are getting some points here an there; also occasionally losing some time with small repairs.

The final run to the finish is clearly won by the Bogliq, who keep off the Mouton Premier by more than a minute. Despite the performance of Simmons and Fowler in the rear-wheel drive number 232 car; Mazur and Pinto in the 127 EAG LET have suffered. The car does not like these stages.

Improvement over earlier stages from the iSSi, the Wisconsin Motors car noting down a respectable time in the dusk, showing off its slightly odd looking rear light arrangement.

The final total stage times are interesting, with the Bogliq and the Lutoza clealy leading. But after them everything is within seconds. Only the WM iSSi, the EAG LET and the unfortunate Tuevo are lagging behind markedly.

Final Results Stage 1 - C1 Class:

Summary
Number Car Driver Co-Driver Time
85 Bogliq Fanatic 115AE Shozo Fujino (JAP) Kan Tatsuda (JAP) 4h45
113 Lutoza Avispa I [R] Lloyd Durand (FRA) Rio Martinez (ESP) 4h53
111 Mitsushita Kitty 100 GT Jussi Toivonen (FIN) Valto Juhanen (FIN) 4h57
75 Hugi Aurea TS V2 Jimbo Tonsom (USA) Corzetti Milano (FRU) 4h57
5 F.E.A.B 141.rallye 1.1 Forza Ali Egonu (ITA) Francesco Guccini (ITA) 4h57
84 Contendiente C100 Alejandro Flores (ESP) André Botelho (POR) 4h58
232 Mouton Premier 1100 R Alex Simmons (USA) Thomas Fowler (USA) 4h59
659 WM iSSi Whirlwind Llewellyn Lubenov (USA) Motshan Gospodinov (BGR) 5h08
127 EAG LET Silverbird 4c Jan Mazur (POL) Paolo Pinto (ITA) 5h20
53 Teuvo Halo IS Sami Suomalainen (FIN) Elias Keskimaasto (FIN) DNF

Point Standings C1 Class:

Number Car Driver Co-Driver S1-1 S1-2 S1-3 S1-4 S1-5 S1-F S1-T
85 Bogliq Fanatic 115AE Shozo Fujino (JAP) Kan Tatsuda (JAP) 0 4 10 2 10 20 46
75 Hugi Aurea TS V2 Jimbo Tonsom (USA) Corzetti Milano (FRU) 0 10 0 10 2 13 35
113 Lutoza Avispa I [R] Lloyd Durand (FRA) Rio Martinez (ESP) 0 6 6 0 4 16 32
5 F.E.A.B 141.rallye 1.1 Forza Ali Egonu (ITA) Francesco Guccini (ITA) 10 0 2 6 0 12 30
111 Mitsushita Kitty 100 GT Jussi Toivonen (FIN) Valto Juhanen (FIN) 4 2 4 3 0 14 27
84 Contendiente C100 Alejandro Flores (ESP) André Botelho (POR) 6 1 1 4 1 11 24
232 Mouton Premier 1100 R Alex Simmons (USA) Thomas Fowler (USA) 2 3 0 0 6 10 21
659 WM iSSi Whirlwind Llewellyn Lubenov (USA) Motshan Gospodinov (BGR) 3 0 0 1 3 9 16
127 EAG LET Silverbird 4c Jan Mazur (POL) Paolo Pinto (ITA) 1 0 3 0 0 8 12
53 Teuvo Halo IS Sami Suomalainen (FIN) Elias Keskimaasto (FIN) 0 0 0 0 0 DNF 0
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What
 how did
 for what reason


immediately grabs notebook and jolts down “Finns” next to “geese” and “Mad Max” as things detrimental to personal rally performance

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