So a three way battle of the elderstatesmen, very well. We shall see who’s nerve is the strongest and who’s balance is most precise, and who allowed enough ground clearance to dip their inside tires into the gutter. Fellow lunitics, my 1986 chassis and I shall see you at the bottom.
reaches over to the glovebox selects a cassette and turns up the volume.
youtube.com/watch?v=XCiDuy4mrWU
Seeing his match-up, Tom felt confident, but also a bit nervous. “That big thing has buttloads of power, but it weighs almost twice as much as my car. Just don’t let him win the start because overtaking on a track as narrow as this will be next to impossible. Especially when he’s already gonna take the widest line possible if he wants to carry any speed whatsoever through the corners. I can win this, just how am i gonna get past him?”
There’s no better way for me to say it, so:
DEERECTOR MAKES AN APPEARANCE
Also I don’t think I need to say this but if anybody else has any specific thoughts about the lineup, do let me know. I’m halfway through writing the races, which I shall submit, along with the official results tomorrow (note, the times are still purely the times you submitted, I don’t alter those at all).
Tom: you have no idea just how perfectly that thought lines up with what I’ve written for your race.
Enry, after seeing his opponent, started sweating, probably made worse by his really bad cloak.
He surely had a better acceleration and tameness, after all, going AWD with various controls was a good choice, so the start was obviously to be dominated by the X90, the really tricky sections might be his death sentence, since the Debrauna is a corner-carver despite it’s oversteering nature. But eventually he got over it, put on his proper glasses to actually see the track and started up the 8.1 once again, with only it’s music to entertain the driver.
It’s time to defend the X90’s reputation, he cannot lose on home ground, that would be shameful for not only EGT, but the whole Seishido, and, most importantly, Enry himself.
Upon seeing his matchup against the RB-02 and Ruby Rayyan without hesitation rolled up a joint and downed a bottle of his favourite single malt whisky as he was almost certain that this will not end well with god of understeer Ruby who was bound to get into the lead with his superior 0-60 time.
Even though I’ve already written the Enry vs Riley Banks race, looks like I don’t have to change a thing… 
Riley was confident as he drew his match. Sure the X90 had local knowledge, AWD and ‘magic’ coughtraction control* but the Debranua had extra power and downforce. Enough to win? Maybe…
I see more and more anthro animals in this forum… cant complain
As Kristina found her match on the board, she sighed. She was facing the Cottam Elegance, which had nearly edged her out in the previous race. Luckily it was a long sedan on a tight, twisty course, and she would have to find a way to use this to her advantage. She had more power and lower weight, along with a short wheelbase of only 2.5m. She should be able to keep ahead of it, so long as she could actually get ahead of it. Takeoff was not the BMW’s strong suit. It was overpowered, overgeared, and light, which made planting 1260hp a daunting task from a standing start. She went to her car to sit down, light a smoke, and focus on her launch. Her race would be soon, and she would have to come out in front. She needed to prove she belonged here as a racer. Showing up in this car had proved she belonged here as a lunatic.
This post is big. I imagine you’d be mainly interested in how your own races go. Some of them are more interesting than others, if you feel I glossed over things I do apologise, I guess I did respond to the way some people have dropped hints about their characterisation at this point in the story!
Race One: Baltazar Thanatos Estate –vs- Peapod GG Tune
Precisely two seconds after the race started, Strop knew he was going to lose.
With power going to all four wheels, the Thanatos Estate catapulted into the lead and was a good second ahead by the time it screamed into the first sweeping left hander. Strop tried to make up for it with bravery, but on the cold night road, the front wheel drive, most of its weight sitting on the front wheels, let go and understeered heavily, forcing him to lift off. The course was simply too tight for him to take advantage of the superior downforce his F1 style wing afforded him, and instead, the car skittered wildly as it slid over debris and leaves lining each corner. Meanwhile, the Thanatos Estate blasted ahead with a confidence unnatural for a car almost as wide as the entire road itself, and much longer still. Never skipping a beat, by the first double hairpin complex, it was already out of sight, and the only sign Strop ever had of its passing thereafter was the exhaust note of the turbo V8.
Pulling to a stop in parc fermé off the main road of Ikaho Machi, by the look on the faces of the local patriots, Strop knew that the Thanatos had won an overwhelming victory. It just remained to be seen how well his front wheel drive stacked up against the other overpowered cars.
Race Two: Sleipnir –vs- Mephisto
“Hey Crash!” Sam radioed in.
“What is it Sam.”
“Can you feel it? I’m gonna win again.”
Kai groaned. “Just remember this is a mountain pass, and we’re driving cars five to six times more powerful than what’s recommended. And this is not the place to do your shunt and bump unless you want to die and/or kill me.”
“Aww spoilsport. I won’t do anything like that. I’m just gonna win. And then it’ll be two-zero.”
Kai didn’t reply. Instead, he focused on the road ahead of him, dialing up the revs. On one hand, the Mephisto was more of a grand touring racer, even more poorly suited to the road than the high downforce supercar Sleipnir. And it was worth more than two and a half million dollars, and it was his, and he really wanted to keep it in one piece. But on the other hand, Sam could be really annoying and he wasn’t sure if that was worth listening to his gloating all the way through the upcoming thirteen hour plus flight to Los Angeles.
Noah’s hands came down and the cars shot forward in unison. With a much greater power to weight ratio, the Mephisto’s all wheel drive edged it in front by the first corner, but he had to slow sharply to coax it around the corner, bringing him back under pressure from Sleipnir. He furrowed his brow, slinging the car around the next straight, then hogging the inside line around the right hander. Still Sleipnir was directly on his tail, headlights shining directly into his mirrors. Annoying!
Doggedly they wove over the road, Kai using his superior power to open up a gap on the smoother stretches, but being reined in during the tight corners. With such an aggressive turbo profile, he struggled to select gears between short-shifting and being left short on power, and shifting in the power band but losing control as sixteen hundred horses threatened to overwhelm the traction control. Sam, one of the few unhindered by such lag issues, lost all patience and on the first turn of the double hairpin, he squeezed through on the inside. By the time they emerged from the second hairpin, he was a good three seconds ahead. Even the longer stretch was not enough to close the gap, and the tail lights of Sleipnir whisked off around the next bend, and, given the rest of the course was tight and technical, was not seen again until the finish line, along with Sam and his winning grin. Darn.
Race Three: Gemina XIII GTX –vs- AR.MA. SD-01R
Yuri did not wish to be disappointed again. The Gemina was a pious race car with proper race breeding and it was supposed to be overwhelmingly dominant on the track. The engineers reassured him that where it may have been lacking on Mount Panorama, it would surely make up on Mount Haruna. Personally, Yuri wasn’t sure, but for their sake, he hoped so.
The indecipherably named AR.MA. SD-01R was a bit of an unknown quantity, however. Using an older format in all wheel drive, it was like pitching his supercar against a tuned WRX or Evo. But as tuned tuner cars went, you never quite knew what you were getting into.
Noah’s hands went down and with a squealing of tyres, they launched! Even with such different formats, they had nearly identical performance, so it was a tight race to the first corner. Side by side they entered, and side by side they emerged. The Gemina edged ever so slightly in front in the corners, but the AR.MA. SD-01R took it back on the exits.
It was white knuckle wheel to wheel almost all the way, trading places on the straights and through the hairpins, but in the final winding esses, the Gemina found the advantage, its superior balance affording it the better turn in, and finding the inside line, it held on to take the victory in front of a frenzied crowd by three quarters of a second.
Race Four: Banks Debrauna Gumball Edition –vs- EGT Achernar X90
The Achernar was the home crowd favourite, and when it rolled up to the starting line, the crowd of fans, which had built steadily over the last twenty minutes, surged forward, snapping photos, much to Enry’s horror. But within his heart the fighting spirit raised. Next to him was Riley Banks, in what seemed to be the most corner-happy FR car of the tournament. It promised to be another tense AWD vs RWD battle.
Much to the delight of the crowd, the Achernar’s drivetrain pulled it ahead off the line, tyres and engine screaming as it blasted down the straight, hitting two hundred before slowing for the first corner. Meanwhile, without any driver aids, the Debrauna pulled a giant burnout, fishtailing wildly and losing ground. With the shorter wheelbase and AWD control, surely this race was in the bag for the Achernar.
Enry noticed something was very wrong just past the first checkpoint, after the long straights transitioned into the much tighter, technical sectors. Even with every aid engaged, he was losing ground, slowly but surely, to the coupe. At the end of each straight, the car in his rear mirrors seemed to surge forward as it braked much later, and plunged into the corner sharper, holding the inside line tighter, the rear end slithering out at the exit and nearly scraping the shrubbery as it passed. Enry pushed harder, only to find the front end straightening out and pushing wide, so he did all he could to hold on.
Alas, it was not enough, for at the final hairpin towards the foothills, the Debrauna finally pounced, squeezing on the inside with superior braking and grip, before blasting away through the winding descent into Ikaho Machi to cross the line first by just over a second. So that was the victory for the purists, those faithful to the FR and its sports feel.
Race Five: AED Griffin –vs- Necronia Emperion
It was another variation on the same theme, the AWD versus the FR, and the debate among the observers lining the observation points intensified. This time, the FR of the Emperion had traction control and stability control where the Griffin did not. Would the AWD gain back the point or would the aids make the difference?
Once again, the AWD had the advantage off the line, even without traction control, it took the lead, only to push wide and lose it in the first corner. A fierce battle ensued, an endless repetition of gaining on the straights, losing in the corners as the Emperion carved a neat line, its eleven hundred horses held in check by the computers, steadying it from plowing through the guardrail. The sounds over the overlapping engines roaring through their powerbands and shifting echoed down the hill as both their eight speed gearboxes worked overtime through the corners. Out of the five hairpin complex, the Emperion had the lead, and all the Griffin could see through the next complex until the entry to the foothills was the tail light array of the Emperion. Out of the final hairpin, however, and it hit the straps, rushing down the slope to draw alongside. It was a matter of jockeying for track position as they entered the foothills side by side. Weaving under and over each other, the Griffin managed to snag the inside line of the tight left hander, only to be overlapped and be forced to the outside on the even tighter right hander, the final corner of the race, handing the win to the Emperion by a scant half second.
Race Six: AMW Brimstone –vs- The Hulk
Sitting on the grid in the sixth row, Tom drummed his hands on the wheel of the Brimstone, fretting over his choice of drivetrain. On one hand, a rear wheel drive hatch was quite unique, but on the other hand, surely the all-wheel drive would have been faster… then there was the matter of that big fat Cadillac sitting next to him, definitely faster off the mark than him, but definitely slower around the corners. It was just a matter of passing…
He jerked back to the present as there was a knock on the door. It was tournament host and former World Rally Team colleague, Strop, sneaking in a detour before his race.
“Long time no see huh Tom?” Strop grinned. “I just wanted to warn you about your opponent.”
“Warn?” Tom’s blood ran cold. What did it mean when someone from Gryphon Gear was compelled to ‘warn’ somebody about something? “What about?”
“You’re probably thinking that three thousand horses and two tons is impossible to handle on a mountain, so you can take it in the corners right?”
Tom let out the breath he’d been holding, “Yeah. If it’s just that, all I need to do is figure out how to get past.”
“That’s precisely it,” Strop leaned in. “The trick is, the Cadillac has a huge tailgate. It’s going to swing out wide in the corners, and the tighter the corner, the more of the road it’s going to take up. So if you don’t get past by the first checkpoint, you’ll never find a way through. And if you lose, Reece will probably eat you, because he’s a croc and he can. OK good luck go get ‘em.” With that, he patted Tom on the shoulder, and walked away laughing to himself.
Tom blinked, then renewed his grip on the steering wheel. As if he, Tom of Austrian Motoring Wonderland, was going to lose here, let alone be eaten (did Strop mean that literally???). His cars were reknown all over the world and reputed for their impeccable design and superior engineering. It was time to get his race on.
The moment they started, Strop’s prediction came true. The Hulk, monstering two ton beast that it was, catapulted into the lead, all four tyres smoking despite the traction control. But even as it hit the first bend, it jittered and swung crazily, the stability control fighting a losing battle to transition smoothly from braking to turning. Tom had a prime view of the back end stepping out, and all the wheels smoking as the car did an all wheel drive combination of understeer and power oversteer, the rear bumper throwing up sparks as it scraped along the guard rail. Who the hell was this Reece guy and what was he on!? Tom knew immediately that the Brimstone had more than enough to take the race. As long as he didn’t get sent off the mountain by the Cadillac’s lashing tail.
Tom saw his chance at the snaking S bend just after the second hairpin. An intrinsically slow section due to the successive tight corners, the Hulk was just that bit steadier, and as it lumbered to the left to take the outside line for the right kink, Tom plunged in, yelling “Fortune favours the bold!” The Brimstone just squeezed through, and he opened up the taps, leaving Reece and The Hulk far behind to wallow around and four wheel drift to his probably amphetamine-fuelled heart’s content.
Race Seven: Dalora Infernalis –vs- Raggari Mutant
“It’s okay, Mister Greasepaws,” Engineer Rubik reassured the somewhat apprehensive monkey from the passenger seat. “Our driver is very experienced.”
“Don’t-a worry!” echoed the driver, muffled by his helmet. “Is just like Stelvio Pass! Just at night!”
“Oop eep a cha oop! (That’s what I’m worried about!)” The monkey chittered.
Outside, the obscene decals on the Raggari Mutant had the fans hooting in appreciation. By its side, the Dalora Infernalis sat rumbling, its unique headlight and exhaust arrays giving the older frame a menacing air. Despite only having a measly power to weight ratio of seven hundred and ninety horses to the ton, the Mutant had impeccably balanced suspension, and was, for all intents and purposes, matched to the equally formidable Infernalis. Barely three tenths had separated them the other race, now it was time to take revenge.
“Presto presto!” The Mutant’s driver yelled as the cars set off. Tyres alight with no traction control to hold the power back, it shot off and away, aided no doubt by its obscene decals. Rubik was crushed into the passenger seat, as was Mister Greasepaws in the booster. They hurtled through the darkness, braking hard to enter the first left handed, when Rubik noticed something strange. Behind them, the car had not changed gears at all, the turbo whine not even kicking in until a good four seconds after the race had started, then rising with a keening whirr that kept rising and rising, but never shifting. How tall was that first gear!?
The driver, happily, had no such preoccupations, concerned only with pushing the nose of the car into the corner, then opening up the taps as it exited. The wheels spun liberally on the loose surface of dead leaves, pushing wide, eliciting curses and hasty see-sawing of the wheel.
Behind them, the Infernalis waited, stuck in first even as it screamed around the fast kinks at close to one eighty. It was an odd paradox, that in the slowest of corners which demanded they slow to sixty, even fifty, in first the engine was ticking at just over four thousand revs, sitting right in that transition zone where the turbo was just about spooled, so that when it left the corner, there was a half second pause before a giant hand slammed into the car from behind, rocketing it back onto the tail of the Mutant. Four thousand revs yielded just about four hundred horses at the wheels, which strangely enough was a far more sensible output through the tight twisty turns of the touge. On the other hand, the Mutant, with its closely geared eight speed dual clutch box, was in the power band almost the entire way, something that started to become a bit of a disadvantage as the narrow front tyres started to fade under the extreme loads of both power and steering. The damage was done through the five hairpin section, the driver forced to lift off almost entirely as the car threatened to revolt, then slithered around as the rears hooked up faster than the fronts did. The Infernalis moved directly onto their tail then, stuck like glue to their rear bumper, headlights filling the mirrors as they held on through another set of hairpins, then the final, wider hairpin before the foothills.
“Attento!” The driver shouted, wheels catching on the debris and pushing even wider. Into the space the Infernalis jumped, and then they were side by side on the final straight descending into the foothills! For barely the second time in the entire race, the Infernalis hit second and surged forward, taking track position on the inside going into the right hander, slipping barely in front as it switched to take the left kink, and the deal was sealed.
Try as they might, the Mutant simply didn’t have the traction left to pass the Infernalis through the foothills, and that was the way they stayed, the Infernalis crossing the line first by barely half a second.
Race Eight: YCB Yacare ULTRA X –vs- Leeroy Lunatic –vs- Decker Annihilator
The first three-way race down the mountain was also one of the oddest, featuring wildly different cars almost completely unknown to a Japanese audience. From Uruguayan manufacturer YCB, the Yacare ULTRA X was an MR supercar with the highest top speed, the Leeroy Lunatic was an FR coupe from Moldovian tuner house Leeroy, chopper and dropper of all things Boqliq, with a bonnet that was more intake than bonnet, and the Annihilator was an older model, AWD where its compatriots may have scoffed, its aggressive aftermarket bonnet and bodywork revealing the header of the turbo manifold, the letters “TURBO” clearly embossed on top.
Straight away, the ULTRA X and Decker, the former with the weight resting mostly on its insanely wide rear wheels, and the latter with its all wheel drive, shot off, leaving the Lunatic to fishtail as it performed the mother of all burnouts off the line. Even at the first corner, the difference between the ULTRA X and the Annihilator became immediately apparent, the Decker-made model able to hold a tighter line despite the natural habit of a front-engined all wheel drive without any driving aids. The suboptimal balance of the brakes, as well as the front wheels of the ULTRA X, being as wide as the rear wheels, proved to be its undoing. After wobbling around under heavy braking on the tricky race compound pads, excessive amounts of rubber did just as much to hinder its turning as it did provide grip and the ULTRA X pushed wide on every single corner. A machine designed for top speed, it was hopelessly out of place on the downhill touge, and the Annihilator blew by it on the second corner, followed by the Lunatic at the first hairpin.
It was then a battle between the Annihilator and the Lunatic. The former had superior traction on the exits, but the Lunatic could brake harder, later, and with its superior balance, carry the slow corners faster. Onlookers whooped as it drifted into the tight turns, sparks flying as its undercarriage scraped on the steep gradient, chasing down the Annihilator’s seemingly far more pedestrian line.
Reeling back the gap that opened up slightly in the looser section at the end of the first segment, the difference became increasingly clear as the Lunatic, for all its sideways shenanigans, kept closing the gap, prompting the crowds to start chanting “Takumi! Takumi!” for no particular reason, since these cars were far too powerful for the touge and the Lunatic was hardly graceful in its crazy pitching, threatening to bust through the barriers any any given time.
It was not in the hairpins that the Lunatic pulled its move. Instead, it was in the slightly looser undulating left right complexes following the fifth hairpin, doing around a hundred and sixty, where both cars shared the same acceleration. Lining up to the outside to carve the fastest line, the Lunatic stuck its nose in, but couldn’t finish the job, so pulled back and switched to the inside of the next turn, where it slipped through just before the braking point for the sixth hairpin, allowing it to consolidate the lead, where it hogged the road, kicking up smoke and leaves as it went all kinds of sideways.
In the end, the Lunatic proved too strong, opening up a clear gap of over three seconds over the Annihilator by the finish. The fate of the ULTRA X was not known for another three quarters of a minute, when it finally emerged, adorned by bits of local flora it had happened to pick up along the way.
Race Nine: HFF –vs- RB-02 –vs- Ruby
Race Nine was the battle of the Gods of Understeer. Front wheel drive, packing anywhere from one horse per kilo, to fifteen hundred horses, all with no driving aids. It was going to be torque steer, smoking tyres and wheel banging galore. A fierce argument broke out amongst the observers as to which car would win. The Ruby had the most weight over its front wheels but with that much excessive power, there was no way it was going to hold off the other cars, unless by virtue of its long body, passing would be impossible. The RB-02 on the other hand, was better balanced, with a short wheelbase and far less excess, though the travesty that was the front wheel drive in a berlinetta coupe, the HFF might actually be more stable on the turns.
“Is that…” Hannah pointed at Rayyan ‘Balls ‘o’ Titanium’ Rawat, puffs of smoke rising through the window of his cabin.
“Don’t worry,” Noah radioed back, having ducked his head down to check that it wasn’t some kind of electrical fault causing a fire. “He’s just blazing up.”
“And this is any less worrying how…” Hannah put down the walkie talkie with a sigh. Whatever, at least they were sitting at the start line, and not somewhere along the course. Though she wasn’t particularly keen on the idea of fishing bits of overpowered car from the treeline.
A great squealing and cloud of tyre smoke erupted as all three cars, lined up side by side, attempted to blow their tyres at the starting line, decorating the highway with thick black streaks all the way to the first corner. Ruby had the nose in it but was pushed to the outside by its higher weight, and the HFF and RB-02 kept in the game hovering on the inside rear quarterpanel, then forming a tight line behind Ruby as they sped up the next straight, tyres still squealing.
It was at the first hairpin that the RB-02 made the first move, braking a little later to draw ahead and run a tight, disciplined line around the corner, taking the lead. The three cars continued to duke it out in a loud display of tyre torture, the HFF trying to slip by Ruby in each corner, but having to back off as it ran out of space. Meanwhile, the RB-02 in front kept edging ahead ever so slightly through each progressive corner, passing the first checkpoint a second ahead.
Midway through the second sector, things started changing. First, the HFF finally managed to get past Ruby as it ran particularly wide on a medium speed corner, almost scraping the stone wall. Then, as the RB-02 approached the five hairpin complex, it pitched very wide, almost barrelling straight into the vegetation beyond. A glance at the brake discs revealed why, the race compounds glowing incandescent yellow. With inadequate ventilation on the brakes, in such a tight technical race, the car’s stopping power simply faded at the crucial moment, and the other two cars started closing in. By the end of the hairpin complex, the HFF was back on its tail and threatening to pass every corner, which, at the next hairpin, it did, simply sliding past as it braked later.
The HFF forged on, riding through the corners as smooth as one could in a slide happy guided missile, whereas the RB-02 fell further behind into the clutches of Ruby. But where a small car had trouble passing a big one in touge, in the latter stages of the race, the large cars would find it impossible to pass the smaller ones. So it was, that the HFF extended its lead to cross the line first, and one and a half seconds later, the RB-02 pipped Ruby to the line.
Race Ten: E30 LS7 M –vs- Cottam Elegance DA
The penultimate race was a race with a real difference. On one hand, it was another AWD versus FR race, where the superior dynamics of the FR cars had been resoundingly dominant thus far. But the AWD car here was an oversized limo with a vent for a bonnet, and all kinds of box vents sticking out the rear end where they had no discernible use. This was definitely one of Cottam’s crazier inventions yet. Next to it, was the fabled M3 E30, perhaps a great choice for this track, yet it housed an LS7 tuned to over twelve hundred horsepower.
Kristina stubbed her cigarette out before tossing it aside. After a finish in the long tail end of the pack at Bathurst, she felt a greater urgency, to prove that she actually belonged in this crowd, that she wasn’t just along for the ride. Maybe it was the same for Aaron ‘Pleb’ Cottam in the Elegance, though it seemed that he took a much lighter hearted approach to these things, judging by what he turned up in. Either way, it was time to find out.
The Elegance pulled ahead from the start, the E30 struggling to lay down the power. With the chassis only able to fit the narrowest tyres in the league, the 285s couldn’t cope with all the power, and the car fishtailed, adding a snaky line of black on the road in between all the others. By the time they reached the first corner, the Elegance enjoyed a handy lead, which whittled away as it was forced to take the wide line, lest its elongated chassis clip the inside. Kristina managed to pull the nose into the apex, determined to press the maximum advantage, but the moment she stepped on the gas, the back end stepped out and she had to lift off and correct, handing the Elegance even more lead.
“Be brave, don’t short shift, find the apex.” She could do this. But could the car? The second gear seemed ultra-long on the tight and twisty low speed course, and was playing havoc with the powerband. The turbo was gentle compared to some of the slamming drag-spec builds in here, but the tyres simply couldn’t keep up with the rapidly rising power. Another unsolicited slide, and a furious seesawing at the wheel, and Pleb’s car was vexingly slipping away. The hairpin took a painful eternity, and every time she emerged from the corner, the tail lights of the Elegance were further and further away, until all that was left was her, and the unfolding battle between her car and the road.
Wrestling the car to a halt after an interminable descent into softening brake feel and faded tyres and a steering wheel that felt heavier and heavier with every hairpin, Kristina felt awash with conflicting emotions. Hollowness at her heavy defeat, relief that it was finally done, surely that would count for something? She looked over to find the Elegance DA was already in parc fermé, and she wound down her window as the marshall at the finish line came to usher her to the increasingly full lot.
“How long?” was all she could manage.
Race Eleven: Testis –vs- Centauri Vindicator –vs- Normandy Kodiak
The final race was the showdown of the elder statesmen. The bubble car shell of what was formerly Grandpa’s racer from many decades ago, dwarfed by the large swept back coupes from a not much more recent history. They shook as they revved, naturally aspirated engines burbling and spitting as they banged on the bars of their proverbial cages, baying for release.
In the Testis, 8bs Jr. sat, trying to choose which of the gearstick, the steering wheel, or his bottle of Gin his two hands would hold. Well, just a little more liquid courage would do the trick, he thought as he took another deep swig, the sour acidity burning down his throat and warming him to his core. Much better. Next to him, Vos in the Kodiak was a bundle of seething fury, almost frothing at the mouth as he mumbled imagined threats against his employees. Niall, in the Vindicator, took a completely different approach, winding down his windows, slapping his cheeks and blowing out before slipping a tape into the stereo, cranking the dial to eleven and hitting play.
A cheer went up when, over the sound and fanfare of the engines, the frenetic electronic strains of Initial D filled the air. Noah raised his hands high, and all drivers took their marks. Amidst the fist-pumping fans and flashing lights, the wheels spun one last time and the cars shook, almost bumping as they slithered out of control, picking up momentum along the straight.
Take me higher,
Lift me higher with your speed…
Vos pumped his fist as he edged out in front, manoeuvring his barge to take track position, then throwing it hard into the corner. Straight away, it let go, pitching wide. Vos stopped pumping his fist long enough to flick the handbrake, giving it the beans, and the car went into a long slide, rear bumper throwing up sparks scraping along the barrier. Meanwhile, the little Testis did well to hold on, pressing right into the door of the Kodiak, though faced with a chronic indecision over whether to pick Die Soon or Die Sooner. Disturbingly nimble to the point it was in a league of its own, however, the rounded headlights of the Vindicator scraped through, taking its tunes with it, and once it straightened up, squatted and sped off, apparently having less trouble getting power down once it left first, and that was that.
All I wanna get is you baby.
Running in the nineties, is a new way I like to be.
I’m just running in the nineties, come on baby run to me…
“Shit!” Vos slammed his hand on the steering wheel, planting his foot on the gas and promptly spinning the wheels. The car bucked wildly as he fought to bring it to bear before it plowed into the scenery, but the brakes had already overheated, the pedal spongy and unresponsive. And why did his engineers think that not ventilating the discs at all was a good idea? Oh wait, that’s because they were drunk/high/stoned/whatever when they built this thing! Vos threw his hands up in resignation as the tiny Testis putted past, then sputtered as it struggled to pick up power in Die Sooner. Enshrouded in a dark cloud of rage, Vos felt like setting the world alight and watching it burn, but since he was here, in this car now, at least he could set the tyres alight and watch them burn, and if he died in a grand fiery crash at the bottom of the mountain, so be it.
The Vindicator proved to be the surprise packet of the round, even as comparatively disadvantaged these heavy historics were, it ran superbly, carried by Niall’s spirits lifted by the music. He hit every apex, then even dipped his wheels into the gutter, teeth clattering as the car pulled around the corners of the foothills sharply and the fans roared in appreciation. Pulling to a stop at the finish, it wasn’t until he was parked and out of his car that the Testis puttered through the finish. With relief, 8bs Jr. clambered out of the Testis, taking a celebratory swig of his gin. There would be no Dying today, at least not for him.
By some miracle, the Kodiak finally made an appearance on the home stretch, limping through with bald tyres and melted brakes. After such a living death, Vos wasn’t sure what to think anymore, but for now, he was done.
Once unloaded buckets of adrenaline through my veins, I stopped the car and threw the rest of gin for my throats.
This event starts to get epic.
My eyes were bleary, my body trembled.
In the end, the full classification, with points awarded, was as follows:
Once again, a commanding performance by the Baltazar Thanatos Estate! Seriously, that thing is actually legit scary, in that it simply shouldn’t be that fast, but it is! The biggest standout of the round, however, was nialloftara’s Centauri Vindicator. It was a historic model with no driving aids and rather narrow tyres (even narrower than the E30), yet it pulled a time faster than some of the modern FR cars as well as my own (as a side note, if I nerfed the power of my Peapod to 1hp:kg, it would actually be so much faster that it would take 2nd on this leaderboard!)
This is the tightest and second most demanding race on the schedule, and the results show it. Brake fade became a serious issue for some of the cars, for others, the fact that most of us ran with a turbo didn’t help matters very much. But the next two rounds are a completely different contest, simply speaking, an all out straight line contest!
The bonus points for this round belong to the Wild Thing category, the rankings for which are as follows:
That’s right, a 3 way tie for the points, as three cars had a tameness of zero, thus breaking Microsoft Excel when it attempted to divide by zero 
As the sun rose over the horizon and the trucks and other cars slowly rolled away, the Gryphon Gear team huddled in front of the supply truck, planning their next move, well, at least, most of them were. Sam was still gloating, and Kai was too busy trying not to listen to him to contribute to proceedings.
Hannah whisked out her phone. “Okay, there’s direct flights from Tokyo to both LA and San Fran, either way there’s ten hours of driving to get to the Bonneville Salt Flats… oh, there’s a whole bunch of road closures on the freeway from San Fran. LA it is then.”
Tesla simultaneously scrolled through her calendar, mapping out the international zones. “Our deadline is 6am November 15th local time, meaning we have to arrive in the US at the very latest 6pm November 14th, though probably sooner than that if we want to get any rest on the way.”
Hannah screwed up her face in concentration: “That means… uhm… here Strop why don’t you work this out.” She handed the phone to Strop who also developed a few new wrinkles in his brow. Eventually he pointed at the screen. “This one. If we take the 5:15pm from Tokyo on the 14th, we arrive at 9:30am in LA, on the 14th.”
“Hunh?” Tesla and Hannah stared at him. “We’re crossing the international date line.” Strop explained, to blank stares. “It’s like five in the morning, can we not go over this?”
“Yeah, whatever.” So it was agreed, they would take the 5:15pm from Tokyo, on the 14th, which was… er… Tomorrow. Given it was now 5am of the 13th, at least he thought. So that gave them twenty one hours from when they arrived in the US to get to Utah, and right now, they had… well at the very least they had the whole day to themselves. This was good. Because Strop very much wanted to get his hot spring on.
FUN STATISTICS:
Number of people observed to be DUI- 4
Number of unauthorised photos of the BSLL cars now circulating online- 297
Number of Japanese cops who couldn’t be bothered giving chase on the expressway because their cars were too damn slow- 7
Number of people ejected from an onsen for improper dress code and conduct- 5
The Achernar slowly came to a halt. Enry opens the door and walks out, a knock could be heard on the Debrauna’s door
Riley opens it to find a grinning (Or, at least, what could be interpreted as a grin, dang scarf!) Enry
Enry: This race was fantastic man! A real battle!
Riley: Thanks, apparently your X90’s not magical laughs
Enry: Congratulations anyways, you beat me on my lawn basically, i didn’t expect my car to betray me like that…
Riley: Well, on this track, AWD makes you accelerate fast, RWD makes you win!
Enry: I knew, but the advantages on other tracks are devastating. Anyways, see you in the US! Byeeee!
So Enry jumps back in his car, excited for his third place in the leaderboards, the X90 was a gamble, but it’s working better that expected…
However I WILL come last on both bonneville and tulsa. 
I’m starting to get sad that my car is so bad 
I guess i need to go back in the basement and punch the mechanic or something. 
[OC i would say that i really need to spend some time learning about the suspension things 
]]
Holy crap 8th! I knew I’d tuned it for technical tracks but even I’m impressed. Drinks all around for this finish, now lets go dig some trenchs in Bonneville.
that was fun…
also after watcvhing the delta wing video i reliazed that bigger tires isnt always better specially in such an ass-heavy car
YCB sportscar manufacturer that has a contract with FMU to privide the hardware, the Hercules440TTX engine is a derivate of a muscle car/truck engine with a custom made SOHC head
PD… I tinkered with my monster and he’s much happier with 235 mm tires (and yes if that car is was a person it would be a Muscular man with bad temper)
After such an enthralling race Rayyan decided that his life was not complete. With his second joint in his mouth and his eighth bottle of whisky he walks over to the BMW of Kristina with insane swag. When he leans into the driver side window of the car he offers Kristina some of the rarest weed and attempts his drunken moves in an attempt to get it on with Kristina.
Keep it on the track kid, before she leaves treadmarks on your face.
