Home | Wiki | Live Chat | Dev Stream | YouTube | Archived Forums | Contact

The Kinda Grand Tour [FINALE]


… and shortly thereafter Dan was “accidentally” struck by lightning… :stuck_out_tongue:


Legend of Terms:

TBDC: Time Block Distance Covered. This is the amount of mileage covered during the current 2 hour period.
ODC: Overall Distance Covered. This is the total distance that the team has covered since Noon on Friday
MRL: Morale modifier
FTG: Fatigue Level
Notes: Any notes I have for your team during this time block. Including POI results, car issues, etc.

Saturday, 10am - noon

Weather Conditions: 60 degrees. Partly cloudy. Traffic on the highway is picking up; it’s a lovely weekend day.

All vehicles are on US101 South.

Upcoming POI (optional, let me know if you want to stop at them for rest/sightseeing): Any POI you can find/message me about between Coos Bay, OR and Eureka, CA.

Next Waypoint(s): Seal Rock, OR. Bullards Beach, OR, Humboldt Botanical Garden, Eureka, CA.

TBDC: 105 mi OD: 599 mi MRL: +1 FTG: +2 Notes: Waypoint completed: Seal Rock.

TBDC: 84 mi OD: 589 mi MRL: -4 FTG: +2 Notes: Waypoint completed: Seal Rock. For much of the 11 am hour, the Zast has been growing increasingly loud and losing power. It has finally given up the ghost at approximately 589 miles, along the shores of Woahink Lake, south of Florence, OR. Diagnosis: exhaust manifold/gasket failure. Overall morale at end: +8 (good)

TBDC: 103 mi OD: 706 mi MRL: +1 FTG: +2 Notes: Waypoint completed: Bullards Beach. Team has refueled in Coos Bay, OR.

TBDC: 67 mi OD: 527 mi MRL: +2 FTG: +1 Notes: Team is stopping for 1 hour at the aquarium to rest, sightsee, and repair brakes. This hour will bleed into the beginning of next time period, as they arrived at roughly 1130a.

TBDC: 106 mi OD: 711 mi MRL: +1 FTG: +2 Notes: Waypoint completed: Bullard Beach. Team has refueled in Coos Bay, OR.

TBDC: 112 mi OD: 566 mi MRL: +1 FTG: +3 Notes: Waypoint completed: Seal Rock.

TBDC: 98 mi OD: 650 mi MRL: +0 FTG: +2 Notes: Waypoint completed: Bullards Beach. Somewhat frustration section for this team, as they were stuck behind slow traffic and couldn’t time their moves correctly to get around them for quite some time.

TBDC: 35 mi OD: 537 mi MRL: -9 FTG: +4 Notes: Team was pulled over by Oregon State Police as they entered Newport, OR, and a full felony stop was completed. The team is sitting in cuffs in the back of a squad car, trying to figure out exactly why they are under arrest for Grand Theft Auto… (Other teams: this was his idea for a “defect” with his car, not mine… but I thought it was interesting and let him roll with it). Morale at the end: +3 (alright)

TBDC: 78 mi OD: 650 mi MRL: +2 FTG: -1 Notes: Waypoint completed: Bullard Beach. Team has stopped at Bandon, OR for lunch, fuel, and rest.

TBDC: 46 mi OD: 627 mi MRL: -5 FTG: +3 Notes: Flickering dash lights have come back/become more noticeable. When they stopped for fuel in Coos Bay, the car died. The alternator has failed, and repairs will bleed over into the next time period. A replacement was not among the spares, but fortunately the NAPA in Coos Bay had one in stock.

TBDC: 119 mi OD: 628 mi MRL: +1 FTG: +1 Notes: Waypoint completed: Seal Rock. Refueled in Coos Bay, OR.

TBDC: 116 mi OD: 684 mi MRL: -1 FTG: +3 Notes: Waypoint completed: Bullard Beach.
Refueled in Coos Bay, OR. Took a while to figure out that the creaking/popping noise that can now be heard when going over bumps is NOT from Strop’s “south end”, but rather the car’s suspension. Also lactose intolerant horse farts smell bad.

TBDC: 110 mi OD: 660 mi MRL: +1 FTG: +2 Notes: Waypoint complete: Bullards Beach. Refueled in Coos Bay, OR. Lifter tick seems to be getting worse.

@JohnWaldock / @Sillyducky
TBDC: 107 mi OD: 612 mi MRL: +1 FTG: +2 Notes: Waypoint completed: Seal Rock.

TBDC: 82 mi OD: 580 mi MRL: +1 FTG: +0 Notes: Waypoint completed: Seal Rock. Team has stopped at Oregon Coast Aquarium for rest.

TBDC: 120 mi OD: 631 mi MRL: +1 FTG: +1 Notes: Waypoint completed: Seal Rock. Team has refueled in Coos Bay, OR.

@koolkei / @FrankNSTein
TBDC: 122 mi OD: 720 mi MRL: +1 FTG: +2 Notes: Waypoint completed: Bullard Beach. Team is starting to feel fatigued.

TBDC: 111 mi OD: 535 mi MRL: +0 FTG: +1 Notes: Waypoint completed: Seal Rock (exactly at noon, no less)

@Nomade0013 / @ramthecowy
TBDC: 121 mi OD: 729 mi MRL:+1 FTG: +2 Notes: Waypoint completed: Bullards Beach.

TBDC: 113 mi OD: 607 mi MRL: +1 FTG: +1 Notes: Waypoint completed: Seal Rock.

The following cars are within visual range or in a pack:

IA Advance, BIL Standard (650 miles)

Team Greasy Lightning

Team/Car info

“Here you go, Jen,” Fuzz tapped on her shoulder with a cold bottle of water.

“Thanks,” she said, grabbing it over her shoulder with one hand while keeping eyes on the road and her other hand on the wheel.

The air smelled of pungent ocean tang, the salt almost palpabale. Her hair danced in the turbulent air flowing through the rolled-down windows. By her side, her husband cracked jokes and fiddled with the playlist on his phone, as Fuzz doled out pouches of trail mix, beef jerky, and fruit for lunch from the back. Everything in the moment was so perfect. So her laughter and constant smile were well warranted. This was everything she could have hoped for on this trip.

“Here we go!” Rick grinned. “A little motivational music!”

Greasy Lightning - Motivational Music

“Aww yeah!” Fuzz whooped from the back as soon as the music started. “That’s what I’m talking about!”

Jen immediately found herself tapping the steering wheel and nodding her head along to the beat, her smile growing even wider than she thought possible.

— *** — *** — ***

“Nice pass, Jen!” Rick smiled.

The small purple Zast convertible shrank to a dot in the rearview mirror in mere seconds.

“Guys, I don’t think they’re running really good,” Fuzz added, looking back through the rear hatch. “I think I saw it smoking, and it wasn’t going very fast.”

Jen shook her head. “Man. That’s a shame for them. I hope they can fix whatever is wrong…”


#Team ‘Southend or Bust’
Original Post - Previous Post

The story so far: Having made excellent progress since the cheese factory incident, our three boys have piloted the trusty Merna down the Pacific coast. It’s all about to go wrong though…

“I think this might be the most amazing road ever” said Seb, staring out to the Pacific. The US101 had turned out to be a fantastic stretch of tarmac to drive down.
“Agreed” said Martin, taking in the late spring sun. “Honestly though, I think there are other cars I’d rather be in doing this”.
“Oooh yeah” said Seb, smiling. “I reckon a 1980s Zavir Aera would be fantastic”
“What? Something that old?” replied Martin. “Has to be something newer. A Himmel E.O., for sure. Targa top version”
James joined in, having seemed to have gotten over his grump. “Assoluto Infinito, anyday. Proper GT car for a GT road”
“A GT road eh?” mocked Seb.
“Yeah, great views, great corners, the lot” James replied, laughing.
There was no denying, this was going a lot better than the Roulette Runner. For one, the car wasn’t driving them mad, and their friendship wasn’t being tested either.


Predictably though, it went wrong.

Seb and James got back in the car, where Martin was waiting. “Right, I got you a pack of Lays or whatever the Walkers crisps are here and a Coke” said Seb, handing some stuff out of the plastic bag.
“Nice” said Martin. “Let’s hit it then”
Seb turned the key. Nothing. “Bollocks” he exclaimed.
James sighed. The grump was back. “It’s that alternator isn’t it”
“Yep” said Martin, who’s mood had changed too. “Let’s go yank it out and see what’s up”.

30 minutes later, and the alternator was almost out. But Martin knew already that it had packed up. “Look at my hands, they’re black. And so is that alternator. We’re gonna need a new one”.
James got his phone out. “Alright then, let’s find a parts store”.
Thankfully, the nearest NAPA was only 20 minutes walk away, so James headed off to get the replacement while Seb and Martin got the old one out.

Could be worse, at least the problem this time hadn’t given them hearing damage.


Both purple cars are out :cry:


Now we’re starting to see some serious wear, they’re gonna start dropping like flies.

Just for some information, I ran the morning distances into Excel. You can see who overtook whom at what time, though I didn’t actually put in any data for the stops, so this may not be entirely realistic.

Also I highlighted my own line. This is because if I happen to pass you and we’re both on the road at that point, you will be the recipient of something special, which I shall be writing presently. That is to say, @stm316, @TheBobWiley, @DeusExMackia (oh you poor sods). EDIT: upon further review it looks like I passed stm316’s team while they were in the Aquarium, so they’re safe. However, it looks like I catch up to DeusExMackia while they’re stuck with the alternator (they’re safe too, I can’t deliver my special package at a fuel stop…).

Which leaves TheBobWiley’s team, whom I’ve been steadily gaining ground on until 10am and pass shortly before they stop for lunch. Ho ho ho ho ho…


Our Protagonists Almost Die Before They Even Get To The Start
Our Protagonists Are Introduced And Act Like Somewhat Normal People
In Which They Noise Pollute Like College Frat Boys And Are Thoroughly Outdone by a Blue Man
In Which They Argue About Playing Gay Chicken With Keys Being Hidden in Unmentionable Places
In Which Gay Chicken Is Played But Kai Forgets the Chicken Part and Strop Loses
In Which Strop Fails Emissions Ratings and Team Southend are Scarred For Life

#Team Flaming Fart Cannon

Good for food (sort of), good for fuel, good for battery in the BoomStick… time to make up some ground!

“Just to be sure, you did say if we stopped every now and then, I could drive as much as I wanted?” Kai asked.

“Yeah, that’s the deal,” Strop replied. “As long as you stop when I want to. Or when you don’t want to drive as if that will ever happen.”

Just then, the next song came up on the playlist.

“Is this-” Kai started, look of spreading recognition on his face.

“YES.” Strop whipped out the finger guns. “I know right, how could I not play this, it has HISTORY.”

“You bought a Boom Box to the ASCA Mid-Season Gala with this on max volume.”

“We were all too poor to afford actual formal wear!”

“And then everybody hated us and that douche manager from my old team started picking on me, and you were all like it’s ok just walk away, walk away and then you did walk away… because you wanted a run-up to drop kick him in the face.”

“BOOM!” Strop pounded his fists together. Kai and Strop started laughing at the memory of the ensuing brawl, the night in the lock-up and the fine that ended up being more expensive than buying suits and dresses for everybody (totally worth it). But from the paroxysms of laughter, Strop’s sphincter involuntarily spasmed, allowing more fart to seep into the cabin. Kai wound the window down and hung his head out the window for a bit, wheezing.

“Oh shit, for fucks’ sake, I need a smoke just to cleanse my lungs.”

“Don’t you dare, that stuff’s poison.”

“No, YOUR fumes are poison. Cigarettes are like a tonic compared to the shit in your fart. Literally.” Still driving, Kai reached down for his packet and his lighter. Strop suddenly grabbed his hand, keeping the lighter shut. “NO, DON’T!”

“Dude what the fuck, don’t tell me what to do!” Kai tried pulling away but there was only so much pulling one could do without crashing Toothless.

“It’s not that… have you ever considered what might happen if you lit up in a cabin full of flammable fumes?”

Kai blinked and stared at Strop, clearly not looking at the road. “What. You think-”

“I mean, I’ve got it going on real bad right now, maybe the concentration is even enough to blow us sky high.” Kai frowned, unsure. It seemed far-fetched, but damn, it sure did smell bad in there. Strop’s brain was ticking too, for he had alighted on another idea…

“Hang on hang on, I know, gimme your lighter.”

“What? No!” Kai protested. “This is one of your dumb tricks to deprive me of my lung poison isn’t it.”

“Better than that, trust me.” Strop looked completely serious, which everybody knew was trouble. “And keep driving, we gotta go fast. In the meantime…” he pulled out a block of cheese he’d purchased from Tillamook, much to Kai’s horror. “This stuff ain’t gonna keep long out of the fridge!”

Toothless rolled into the station at Coos Bay, where they immediately spotted a familiar Sunshine Coast Orange '94 Erin Merna.

“Oh shit, it’s Team Southend!” Strop gasped. “Hide!”

But ducking below the window-line of the cabin was useless in a car as visible as the flaming, neon-shod Toothless. So Kai spent the next half a minute rolling back and forth such that the parked cars and the fuel pump completely obscured their line of sight from the compact. This achieved, the doors flew open they immediately spilled from the cabin, sucking in great lungfuls of sweet, petrol fume laden air. It was heaven.

While Strop refueled, Kai peered past the pump. “Hey, they’re not there. Good thing huh, would have been awkward.”

“Yeah,” Strop muttered, shameless enough to perpetrate offenses without regard to consequence but not anti-social enough to not feel said consequences. “Let’s keep going, I think we’ve done enough to them this morning.”

Back on the road, and back to the increasingly foul-smelling cabin. Strop’s emissions seemed to have increased, if the high-pitched squeaking of restrained farts was anything to go by.

“What did I tell you, stop eating the damn cheese!” Kai snapped, winding down the window for the umpteenth time that morning.

“I swear, that’s not me!” Strop cried. “I’m holding it in for something special!”

“Really?” Kai frowned. “Then…” the cause of the sound became more clear as, when Toothless crested a bump, the squeaking announced itself again. “Forpulede lort!” he spat.

“Ohh… we did say the CV joint was kind of getting worn out,” Strop mused.

Kai started stroking the steering wheel. “Come on baby, don’t give up on us just yet, your flight isn’t over just yet.”

At that moment, they caught sight of another familiar car: the '96 Bil of Team Clutch Droppers. Strop pointed at it frantically. “THERE. THERE THERE. Overtake them on the right.”

“Already on it!” Kai’s foot was planted and Toothless roared (well… hissed, I guess) forward. Strop grabbed Kai’s lighter and started unbuttoning his jeans.

“Strop, what the fuck?” Kai started.

“Hush now,” Strop had a manic grin on his face. “You’re about to discover the real reason we’re called Team Flaming Fart Cannon. And it’s not your turbo.”

Within seconds, they’d drawn abreast of the Bil and its unsuspecting occupants (or maybe suspecting, since the car was already notorious). Strop wound down the window, popped his seatbelt, and hauled himself until he was perched on the door frame, mostly hanging out the car. Ryan, Jason and Bob all stared at him with a mixture of confusion and horror as he dropped his pants, exposing his undies, and stuck his rear end at them.

“HADOKEN!” Strop yelled, and flicked the Bic.

A prodigious fireball launched from his rear end, blowing over the windshield of the Bil. Team Clutch Droppers almost lost it, swerving on the highway while Strop tumbled back into the car, for Toothless was also swerving, due to Kai being incapacitated by laughter.

“GO! GO! GO!” Strop yelled, steadying the wheel with one hand while trying to pull his pants up with the other. “And that’s another team we won’t be talking to by the end of this trip.”

MRL: +7
FTG: +3


… Poooor TheBobWiley… Never knew what was coming.


This will take just a little bit to write my response to this…


You had me at finger guns.


Previous Post || Next Post

Team: Clutch Droppers

Day 2: 10-noon

Driving down the 101 after our stop at Seal Rock was uneventful, but it was a lovely day for a drive. Shortly after passing Coos Bay and Bunk Hill, OR we began to hear a loud car engine over the sound of our, admittedly old and weak, car stereo. Due to the winding nature of the road we could not tell where the sound was coming from at first, but after we hit a realativly straight section we could make out a black car coming up behind us, fast. Little did we know that we were currently down-wind of team FFC.

Bob: Shit, I think that’s the Fat Cannon team, how is everyone catching us so easily today?! Sure we are making more stops, but I’m not exactly driving like a saint either!

Jason: Do you guys smell something? Is there something wrong with our car?

Ryan: I smell it too, smells like a natural gas leak… mixed with a dead animal… did we hit something?

Bob: Not that I know of… god, it’s getting worse!

Team FFC’s car finally caught up to us, engine roaring, signaling its flat-out state. As their car began to pass us, ON THE RIGHT… you bastards, the smell became so intense our eyes were watering. The car slowed slightly as the back window rolled down, thinking they might be pulling alongside to tell us what the smell was Jason rolled down the rear window as well. The smell increased ten fold, and Bob began crying as his body reacted to such an intense burning, far worse than military grade pepper spray. Before anyone in the car could react, Strop’s rear-end had appeared in the window of the other team’s car. At the exact same moment a lighter appeared in his hand we realized what the smell was, as impossibly bad as it was… we knew. Bob slammed the brakes just as the lighter ignited and wave of fire washed over the front of our car, thankfully reducing the smell, if only to replace it with the smell of burned shit and ass-hair. At least it was not noxious.

Bob: HOLY CHRIST, how was that even possible??? Does that guy just produce pure methane??

Jason: Rolling the other rear window down and trying to cover his face with his shirt JESUS, I’M BLIND!!!

Ryan: I’ve smelled worse… but not by much…

Bob: That’s it, I’m tired of this monotonous drive, they are going to rue this day!

Flooring the pedal, the car hesitated for almost two seconds before mercifully downshifting sending the car’s turbo screaming. As we edged over 130mph, team FFC’s car came back into view just before another turn in the road. As we closed on their vehicle the smell started to increase again, but to combat it Ryan pulled a handful of air fresheners out of the glove box, hanging about 6 on the rearview mirror and each of us hanging 2 over our noses. The road began to bend around to the right, getting sharper and sharper forcing us to slow down, but we were still gaining on FFC.

Bob: Come on, just a little more speed. We almost have them!

Suddenly ahead the road took a sharp left turn, we were still traveling over 100mph and the brakes were not exactly exceptional on the Bil, forcing Bob to cut clear to the other side of the road and even onto the burm, even though we were hard on the brakes, in order to navigate the turn. Feeling emboldened by the high speed cornering Bob was back on the gas trying to close the final few yards of gap to team FFC. They had obviously been surprised the Bil had made it through the corner at the speeds both teams were traveling and punched the gas trying to outrun us. Taking the corner at speed gave us the advantage as the gap continued to close. We were approaching the top speed of the Bil as the road made gentle curves to the right and left, but Bob was determined and was taking all of the road in order to keep the Bil’s understeer in check. Luckily there had been no other cars on the road for the last few minutes, or there could have been a major accident.

As we pulled alongside of team FFC Jason and Ryan flipped them off. Strop glanced over and unpon seeing us wearing air-fresheners on our faces began laughing so loud we could hear him in our car, over the sound of both engines. He was visibly crying and starting to looked panicked as he could not breath over his laughter. Unluckily, the Bil’s temperature gauge passed into the red at this point and power suddenly dropped off, team FFC’s car began to pull away. This was a good thing however as the road suddenly became most twisty and the Bil was already having trouble slowing down due to brake fade and over-heated tires. The car continued to lose power as we came into sight of Brandon, OR and by time we had crossed the bridge into town the car was struggling to get above 30mph. We pulled off the highway and into a large, mostly empty parking lot for a large market called Ray’s Food Place. As we came to a stop in the parking lot we suddenly realized there was smoke coming from the engine, and not white steamy smoke like we expected from an over-heated radiator, but black smoke. Popping the hood and quickly running around to the front of the car Bob saw the air filter in flames


Ryan ran around to the trunk of the car and pulled out a small emergency extinguisher. Running back to the front of the car he let loose on the engine bay, quickly smothering the flames.

Bob: Good lord, I think that flame attack set the oil infused air filter on fire. They could have killed us!

Jason: Because your fucking driving wasn’t going to kill us!!

Ryan: I have to agree, I love to go fast, but Jesus, I swear I saw the speedometer hit the end of the gauge at one point!

Bob: We had to catch them… just to show them they arn’t the only fast ones… it was a matter of pride!

Ryan: Well… it looks like the air filter itself is ok, just a little charred and I’m sure the engine isn’t very happy. Let’s get lunch and let the car cool off a while.

Bob: Fine, but after we leave here we are going balls to the wall, I am tired of losing ground after all the extra driving we did yesterday.

Jason: Looking at the GPS Looks like there is a Dairy Queen! Let’s GO!!!

After a quick stop in the DQ drive-through we took our food and headed down the road to Kronenberg Park to enjoy the beautiful weather and delicious food. We left all the windows down on the car and were pleased to find the car smelled of “ocean breeze” when we returned. As we left Brandon we made a quick stop at “76”, a gas station we had never heard of before. As we left Brandon we agreed it was time to up our aggressiveness, we wanted to win more than ever after suffering that chemical weapon and flamethrower attack, both of which we were sure were against the Geneva Convention.

Morale: +13 (Morale increased from chasing down Team FFC and detoxing in Brandon, OR.)
Fatigue: +1 (Stopped for lunch and enjoyed the seaside park in Brandon, OR.)


Alright, now I’m laughing so hard I’m crying…


Must not start laughing… At work…

Good sport, great sport in fact. Kai is pleased to have a high speed Chase.

P.s. bonus points for apt DragonForce title :joy:



Brian’s notes for this leg:

We finally made it to Seal Rock, having stopped at the Oregon Coast Aquarium along the way. While there, we were absolutely blown away by the sheer number of species on display in captivity there. In particular, Gary was drawn to the largest creatures such as the manta rays. Stephanie, on the other hand, preferred the smaller, more colorful coral reef species. It was definitely an experience none of us will ever forget!

Later, we heard that one of the teams had been arrested and was eliminated on the spot, while another had dropped out due to car troubles. We seem to have lucked out by abiding all traffic laws and picking a mechanically sorted car for this trip…


##Team Twin-Snail

Previous Stage

Luke asked Linda to check how far they were from the Oregon Coast Aquarium while they continued onward, the engine on the old Minerva growling fiercely as they made their way down the highway.

“At our current speed? About two hours.” Linda replied.

“Luke, get us there before 12:00, please.” Amy said. Luke’s response was to apply a little more gas, bringing the car up to about 75 miles per hour, only to lose that speed the first time they had to corner. By now, the brakes had started screeching each time they were applied, and the squirmy braking became even worse.

“Well, now we should get there about 11:30. So, how are we going to do this?” Linda asked.

“My guess, the three of us get to wander around while Luke fixes the car.” Scott replied. “We all know Luke doesn’t like water.”

“As I’ve said, it’s because I sink in water, and I have no means of getting out of said water once I’ve sunk, other than to walk and hope I can climb my way out of it.” Luke said.

Team Twin-Snail swooped into the Oregon Coast Aquarium parking lot at 11:27 AM, and Luke put the car in park.

As Scott, Amy, and Linda got out of the car and started stretching their legs, Luke got out and headed straight for the trunk. As he removed the newly added boxes of brake rotors and brake pads, he saw something hiding under the mat covering the spare tire. He settled the boxes on the roof of the car, then lifted the mat.

“Found it!” Luke exclaimed, making Amy, Linda, and Scott all jump.

“The fuck, Luke!? Wha’d you find that’s worth scaring the hell out of us?” Scott asked after recovering from the startle.

Luke held up roughly 1.5 meters of cable, with a 16-pin OBD-II socket at one end, and a 25-pin parallel-style connector at the other. “My OBD-II Diagnostics cable.”

“Where was it?” Linda asked.

“Under the spare tire cover.”

“Oh. My bad.” Amy said. “You designed it to work with Storm Automotive RDS-38 scanners, and I couldn’t find a cable long enough to reach the back of that Galaxy that came in, the one that had the fuel pump problems.”

“So you put it back under the spare tire cover?” Luke asked.

“No, I threw it back in the trunk while the cover was out because Scott insisted on reupholstering it.”

“Hey, it looked like someone had spilled cola all over it, so I had to do something.” Scott said, trying to defend himself.

“Doesn’t matter. You three, go wander around and look at fish and sharks and things. Let me fix the brakes so we can justify doing 100 down the highway.”

As Linda, Amy, and Scott wandered into the Aquarium, Luke settled in for a good hour of changing brake pads and the rotors. “These ones are completely out of friction material, and it’s gacked the rotor.” he said, removing the driver’s side front brake pads and disc. He replaced the rotor, then the pads, and moved his way to the passenger side front brake assembly. “Not much better. Very low on friction material, this rotor’s going in our spares, it’s still straight and true.”

At Noon, Luke had managed to put the wheels back on the front of the Minerva, set the car back on the ground, and was busy moving to hoist the rear end off the ground to fix the rear brakes.


Car: Brake Job is 50% complete. (Luke’s note: I hate rust-stuck brake rotors. They’re hard to get off without risking pulling the car off of the jack.) Front brake rotors and pads replaced. Rears remaining.

Luke is currently relaxing by repairing the cars brakes.
Amy is wandering around looking for a gift shop.
Scott is getting told off for tapping on the shark tank. Again. For the third time.
Linda is looking at all the fish and… Oh. Now she’s hungry. Looks like it’ll be a snack raid in the car.

MRL +15 (+2) Fish and Sharks and Lobsters, oh my!
FTG -2 (+1) “I’m hungry! Can we get some fish later?”


##Team Artiseros

#10 am - 11 am

Ernie:Jesus, the car is getting louder and slower.

Aldren: Well lets just ignore and hope it kinda goes away.

Ernie: Lets hope…

(But The problem kept getting worse and worse until they decided to throw the towel and and stop along the shore of Woahink Lake.)

Ernie:Ateri and Aldren go and check the engine please.We probably dont want to stop now.

(An hour of engine inspection has passed by and found the problem)

Ateri: I think the problem is that the gasket had a complete failure.

Ernie (angry inside): SHIT!.Calm down Breathes in and out

Aldren:So your saying Ernie?

Ernie: Shut up!

Ateri: Stop fighting,it doesnt solve anything.

Ernie: Your right.

(trio eerily have silence)

Ernie: For our first grand tour,it was really interesting.But it was probably my mistake for having an underpowered 70’s car.

Aldren: I suppose i can agree to that.

Ernie:Well we should go get a cab and probably book a hotel room somewhere and flight tickets to Italy.

#Final Stats

Fatigue: -1 (still refreshed)

Morale: +8 (-4) (frustation and stress)


Team Bamford

Our heros made great time after Phils cheese pitstop with the inline 3 running on song and the world just going right in general.

Phil was steadfastly rocking the wheel between his hands to keep the car on the road, with sunglasses on and a cigarette held between his fingers in his right hand, he was looking seriously “cool” except he couldn’t see because it wasn’t that clear of a day and he wasn’t allowed to light the smoke because the team wouldn’t let him, but he knew that he was cool.

“Pass me one of those house bricks” he called out to no-one in particular

Jason reached into the boot, using the Advance’s handy folding rear seat system and returned with a lone brick.

“They told me back in '92 that it was a stupid idea to fold the rear seats down, but it just paid off” smirked Ken

Phil blindly reached backwards and seized the brick, awkwardly swinging it into the drivers footwell and with a mere moment of adjustment, dropped the brick on the throttle.

“Cruise control doesn’t work” he said.

“But what if you need to stop in a hurry?” asked Simon

“Relax” smiled Phil “There’s nothing that’s gonna slow us down!”

An Hour Later

In his 70-odd years of life, Ken had never seen anyone eat a cigarette before, he’d seen his mates smoke a lot of them, but never purposefully eat one out of frustration, or go back for seconds for that matter, to stop Phil from giving himself a stomach ache the team relented, rolled the windows right down, cranked the AC and let Phil smoke, one cigarette at first and then two in the vain hope that he’d calm down.

No such luck.

The object of the English/Indian team’s scorn was a line of cars, about 3/4 mile of cars, headed by a 4x4 that had never been dirty, a few saloons and a smokey, black Dodge Monaco.

“Never trust a driver with a hat on, nine times outta ten they’re too old to drive” muttered Phil

“Dude, both of them are wearing hats” called out Jason


“We’re tailing the Blues Brothers!”

Ken laughed along with his grandson, but that was about it, Simon had decided to be even more silent than usual and Phil was stubbing his cigarettes out in the ashtray, he saw a gap coming up and planted his foot even harder into the carpet.


The Inline 3 could move the car, sure and with a bit of coaxing could keep them at 55mph, but that was about it, any highway pulls while the car was in top gear were futile and the soggy automatic was designed solely to move the car with no thought given to performance.

Phil dragged the shifter back to “2” and was met with the same grinding that he found when they’d unloaded the car yesterday, so he went back to “D” and began fuming again.

“45mph” said Simon, checking his phone’s GPS “Can you go any faster?”

Phil swore and went back to glaring straight ahead and within the next hour the rest of the team joined him too.

Eventually they came to a sign pointing towards a golf course and a majority of the cars turned off, leaving the Bamford with the Dodge Monaco and a sedan further up the road.

Phil smiled and put his foot down again when the Dodge, with a loud roar, suddenly squatted down, hoisting it’s front wheels towards the air and it disappeared in a cloud of tyre smoke…

“Well” said Ken “they seemed to be in more of a hurry than us”

“Must be on a mission from God” replied Jason.



(Blake, Marc, and Luigi sing along.)

Luigi: I gotta piss again.

Blake: Jesus! how much time are we gonna lose while you gotta piss? Looks like Marc was right about all that damn coffee.

Marc: Well, this time won’t be too much of an issue. We’re running on fumes here.

Blake: Again? How?

Marc: Oh, maybe when you crammed a big block V8 into a 5000 pound car. Not to mention while the car does haul ass, it’s not exactly geared optimally.

Blake: Well, we had a deadline and only a truck in the backyard, we did what we could.

Luigi: Why didn’t they put the 432 in the Enforcers from the beginning?

Blake: They fell out of favor as a performance engine in the early '70s. Due to CAFE and emissions standards. By the time the '90s came around, small blocks were more than up to the job. Case and point, this car is actually slower than the original configuration.

Marc: At least she handles like a dream.

Blake: Speak of the devil.

Marc: A county mountie!

Luigi: Hey, that looks like the guys from one of the other teams in the back!

Blake: I wonder what that was about?

Marc: Safe bet they’re out of the competition, at least I assume getting arrested is grounds for disqualification. Anyway, we’re closing in on Coos Bay, we’ll stop for gas and a bathroom break. We should also consider what we want to do for lunch.

Blake: Should be a park or something, we’ve got enough to make lunch in the car, we should take some time to stretch our legs.

Marc: Good idea.


Team DMV Speed Stars

After many hours of general fuckery mostly involving blasting speed metal near minivans and school buses filled with small children in the hopes of scaring the little ones and arguing over which was the most stylish, the 3 came to one conclusion. That a game of some sort was necessary to prevent highway hypnosis from taking its toll.

Dennis: I don’t know how truckers do this shit for a living.

Felix: Wouldn’t be so bad if somebody hadn’t objected to bringing a coffee maker.
glares at Ethan, who is napping in the 3rd row

Dennis: Speaking of, haven’t heard much from James May back there.

Felix glances over and sees that he was reading reviews of the Volkswagen 2 liter turbo.

Felix: Figures. Gathering ammo for a future gunfight.

Dennis: Nothing interesting?

Felix attempts to sift through Ethan’s laptop, but only finds his Steam account and a bunch of old schoolwork. He sends a few old essays to himself for potential future use. Other than that, nothing.

Felix: He did just get me an A in english.

Dennis: First chance we get, send it here.

Felix and Dennis stare ahead and conjure up ways to torment Ethan as he sleeps.


One final note…

There should be no ass hair in those fumes.

Just saying :wink:


As if owning a Saminda didn’t cause him enough trouble :joy: