Highway Hooligans
Day 3, 4-6p - “Barlow Road Beater Bash”
Jake floored what was left of their once-proud Dynamite E5, the driveshaft rattling and banging against the floorpan of the car, as the driver’s side windshield wiper shuddered across the glass, and the hazard lights continued to flash. “You’re not going to pass us!” he said, driving hard despite only having the passenger side headlight to see with. Every bump in the road sounded like they drove over a canyon, and steam was rising from under the hood.
They hit the curb and bounced their way into the parking lot, forcing the Erin Berlose station wagon wide and giving Team Southend-or-Bust a difficult decision to make, between having a big accident mere feet from the finish line, or backing off.
The instant after they crossed the line, a wad of soaking wet toilet paper hit the windshield. “Aw, fuck me.” Jake said, as the windshield wiper hit the toilet paper and it ended up smearing over the window. “Can’t fucking see, and of course nothing fuckin’ works on this car anymore.”
DING! DING! “Multiple System Failures. Immediate Servicing is Required.”
There was a sudden loud bang, and another from inside the car as the driver’s side set of side-curtain airbags fired. “What the fuck!?” Trevor yelled, only to dive for cover as the windshield picked up a star-burst pattern from another flying potato. Several more chemically-accelerated spuds slammed into the side of the car, and Jake made a dive for a parking space to escape the incoming fire. One of the potatoes hit the last remaining headlight, and Jake ran over a toolbox, a cooler, and ripped the rear bumper off on the engine block laying in the parking lot. He hit the parking divider hard, and slammed into a light-pole, releasing all of the steam from the radiator in an instant.
When the team finally managed to bail out of the car, however, it was obvious how badly damaged the car really was, even before they had been hit by flying potatoes. Jake shoved open his door, and the door panel fell off, carrying with it the window switches and the map pocket, and when Cody opened the other front door, the dashboard tipped sideways and collapsed partly into the footwell. Trevor slid the rear door back the hard way, as the electric power door opening mechanism didn’t work anymore.
DING! “Y-Y-Your keys are are are are Error.”
For a few seconds, nothing more sounded from the dashboard, only for a final message to play.
DING! DING! DING! “Total System Failure. Vehicle Inoperable.”
“Yeah, we kinda knew that, Ivan.” Cody said. As the three of them cleared out what little they cared to grab from the car, the car alarm started going off, and nothing they could do would stop it.
“Someone pull the hood release.” Trevor said. “Can’t, Trev. The dashboard’s fallen on the release lever and it won’t move. And it’s blocking the fuse-box.” Jake replied, grabbing the tool kit from under the driver’s seat.
Thankfully, in the car’s battered condition, the battery didn’t last too long, and the car eventually went silent. The remaining members of the Highway Hooligans settled around a table isolated from the others, excluded from the party.
“So, what’s the big plan?” Jake asked, after a few minutes of looking over their bags, boxes, and supplies.
“Whaddya mean, ‘What’s the big plan?’ We’re stuck here with no way home, and it’s clear none of these guys are gonna give us three a ride to Chicago.” Trevor said.
“Was just thinking about something my brother always used to say.” Cody stated. “Always used to say, “When everything’s going wrong, you can always trust in good tools.” Never understood that stupid phrase, but I think he was trying to tell me something.” He reached over and grabbed the toolbox that Jake had rescued from under the seat. Cody opened the toolbox and found $2500 tucked away behind the screwdrivers.
“Well, it’s not much, but… It’s a start.” Jake said.
“Truth be told, despite him being family, I see no reason to waste this bailing his dumb ass out of jail. $2,500 is good enough to get something kinda reliable-ish to get us home. Or to hop busses most of that way. Might even be enough for three tickets, one way, on an airplane.” Cody said.
“A bit harsh, but to be fair, he didn’t need to jeopardize the whole race by having a conflict with the grannymobile, either.” Trevor said. “Plus, let’s face it, stealing our purple anodized wheel nuts, that didn’t seem like their kind of thing.”
“So, plane, bus, or shitbox?” Jake asked.
“Not sure. But it looks like the other teams are taking it out on that car over there.” Trevor said.
“You know, I’m feeling mean. Let Marcus deal with the impound fees on no cash. We’ve got a bit of money, let’s get some cheap shitbox and drive home. After we get a hotel room, and a shower.” Cody said.
Trevor nodded, then opened his bag and took out four bottles of beer. “Bought these before the trip even started. Was going to be for when we won, but I suppose finishing is as much a victory as actually winning.” he said, before passing two of the bottles over. “I suppose we’ve got a spare, but only one spare.”
“Not on my fuckin’ watch.” Cody said, taking the spare bottle.
Thank you to @VicVictory for hosting this challenge, and you can count on me to join the next one of these.
I just need to decide on whether we see a return of Twin-Snail or whether a different team will shine…
