60s cars are my favourites, but I have absolutely nothing in my lore that fits in here and I am not going to start yet another brand for just a csr. If that had not been the case I would have entered.
Results Part 1: False starts, False pretenses.
AKA instabins and one really bad offender.
It took Ze’ev longer than expected to get himself over to Gipple’s the next morning, with him arriving at about 5:30. He’d done his best to find clothes he didn’t mind clambering around dusty barns in, a pair of well worn jeans with paint streaks from when he restored the color to his new house on Goodwinter boulevard and a faded retro university sweatshirt he practically lived in during his time in fashion school. Storm was waiting for him in the rollback, obviously annoyed at being held up, but as they began their journey out of town he cooled back down. Ze’ev settled comfortably into his typical riding position leaning up against Storm in the center seat. They had repaired the passenger side floor a week or two ago, but this positioning felt more comfortable somehow.
“So where are we headed to first?” Z asked, scanning the tree line and houses as they passed for signs of barns that could hold hidden gems.
“Our first lead is just a bit north of Wildcat” Storm responded, impatiently serving into the berm to pass a slow moving tractor, “It’s a bit more on the tentative side, so I thought we could get this one out of the way first. Shouldn’t take us too long.”
They crossed through the intersection that was the town of Wildcat, turning onto one of the unpaved roads. Z had expected to be out in the woods to find these cars, but he hadn’t realized just how back country some of Storm’s contacts would be. The rollback bounced along the dirt road , which by now had dwindled to no more than two rutted trails as they passed mailbox after beat up mailbox.
“Are you sure we’ll actually find something decent out here?” Ze’ev was getting a bit worried that Storm’s informant may be leading them into some sort of trap to get a hand on some K fund cash.
Storm sighed, “At this point I’m having doubts myself. Here’s the address though. Maybe the car’s held in there?”
A shiny aluminium shed sat off to the side of the property they had pulled up to, probably the only thing that was new at the place. The house was little more than a square, shingle sided box and the fenced in yard was littered with bits of detritus from backwoods living. Ze’ev flinched as two huge dogs came careening around the side of the house, barking loudly, and only stopped a foot from the fence by their leashes.
“You stay here. I’ll handle those two and get that lazy git to come out here to show us the car,” Storm murmured, trying to not set the dogs off again. He stepped out of the truck, deftly hopped the fence, and trotted up to the door, completely ignoring the dogs sniffing around his legs. “Toddwhistle you lazy ass, get yourself out here!” he shouted, triggering another round of barks from the dogs. Storm then walked back and leaned up against the truck, waiting the whole 10 minutes that it took this Toddwhistle fellow to come out and greet them. He was a greasy string of a man, a few years younger than both Z and Storm, and the skunky smell that wafted over to them gave a reason as to why he was so hard to rouse.
“You two here about June?” he said, slouching his way past his dogs and out to the truck. Storm had climbed out now as well and tried to keep his distance from Toddwhistle while not seeming too repulsed.
Storm laughed, “if that’s what you call the car we talked about then yes, that’s what we’re here about. Z, meet the mess that is Wally Toddwhistle.”
“Hello,” Z barely offered in greeting, keeping his hands distinctly out of reach lest any sort of handshake be expected.
“Hey,” Wally replied with equally as much discomfort as Z was showing, “June’s just over here, got her nice and cleaned up for you.” He started walking towards the bright aluminium shed that stuck out like a sore thumb. Storm followed with Z trailing a bit further behind, simultaneously curious and dreading what he might find inside. The interior of the shed was much cleaner than Z had expected and thankfully didn’t have the same stoner smell that emanated from Wally. There was still a decent bit of clutter they had to maneuver around to get a good look at the bottle green early ‘70s hatchback that was parked in there.
While Wally had claimed he had washed “June”, it was clear that that only meant picking up the area around the car and the few things that had been stacked on top of it. The car was still covered with a fine layer of dust that masked the deep green of its paint and the tyres looked like it hadn’t moved in years. However, this didn’t deter Wally from hyping up the car’s UK and Italian heritage, boasting about its V12 engine and “superlegger” (superleggera) aluminium body work and wood trimmed interior. Then Ze’ev finally popped the question at the forefront of both his and Storm’s minds,
“So how much do you want for this Braunton Valcavera anyway?”
A smirk slid over Wally’s greasy face and he quoted his price, which prompted Storm to cuss him out and Ze’ev to stare at him with wide eyes. “What the fuck do you think you’re playing at Wally?!” Storm bellowed, looking as if he was about to punch something.
“Hey man,” Wally drawled, looking like a smug cat that just cornered a mouse, “Y’all know that’s what it’s worth and” he pointedly stared at Z, “I know that he has the means to pay it.”
Storm’s anger finally broke with that comment. He whipped around and started pushing Z back towards the door< “Let’s get you out of here. You don’t need to bend to his price just because you have the means to. I don’t think that ‘June’ suited you anyway.” Z quickly nodded his agreement and they both practically bolted back out to the truck.
“I know what I have and what it’s worth!” Wally shouted after them as they started to pull away, “You won’t find another like this around here!”
Bin reason: Over Budget
(@Arn38fr The Valcavera has decent stats and middle of the pack performance, However, being $900 over budget did it in. Even without that, it would be on the lower end mostly because it just doesn’t feel very premium. The attempt at a shooting brake was good, but the proportions felt stubby, like a British Leyland car a bit. The tyres are really low profile for the era and more appropriate suspension tuning would have allowed for a more realistic square tyre set up. Also you resized the licence plates, a big styling no no.)
As they drove away, Storm was still shaking with anger at what had transpired, “That brat thought he could get away with playing you just because you’re the K heir. No more friendly discounts for him next time he’s at my garage.” Z was slowly trying to shake off that encounter, trying to calm Storm down and keep him from speeding too much.
“Hopefully the next stop on your list won’t be as bad?” he asked, hoping to get Storm’s mind focused on something other than Wally, “Where are we headed to next?”
This seemed to work somewhat as Storm’s hands loosened on the steering wheel and the truck slowed back down to just 5 mph over the speed limit, the usual pace that Moose County residents took roads at.
“Actually yeah,” he said with the ire fading from his voice, “the next one’s up in Mooseville, nice old lady who’s thinking about downsizing and moving to Ittibittiwassee Estates. I think you’ll get on better with here than you ever would with that bastard Wally.” They both settled in for the short drive north and by the time they reached the lakeshore town it was just about sunrise. The house they pulled up the drive of this time was a tame craftsman style with an attached 2 car garage and was in so much better condition than the previous one, though the wind and fine grit sand from the dunes nearby made the edges of the structure rounded by time. They both dropped out of the truck, careful to close the doors quietly since they were in an actual neighborhood now, and padded up to the front door. It was Z who rang the doorbell this time, noticing the fluttering of a fluffy cat jumping off the windowsill at the tinkle of chimes inside. This lady liked cats, it seemed, so he thought she’d be all right. A few moments later the door opened inward to reveal a petite older woman in a dress shirt, lightly pleated skirt, and fuzzy slippers. She carried herself with the dignity of someone trained in ballroom dance, beckoning them in with a voice tinged with a light French accent, ”Ah, you must be Ze’ev, and you Storm. I am Miette Lucidoux, but everyone calls me Luci. Please. come in and make yourselves comfortable.” They followed her into the quaintly furnished front room and settled themselves on separate chairs. Luci disappeared into the kitchen and came back with a glass of water for each of them, “I was just about to start making breakfast for myself. You boys like biscuits and gravy, no?”
“Yes, we do. That would be very nice of you Luci,” Storm replied, acting so much more tame than Z had ever seen him. His usual casual attitude was gone and it made Z feel odd. They sat in silence while Luci bustled away in the kitchen, Z slowly petting the cat he’d seen in the window, which had wandered over to him as soon as he had sat down. When Luci returned a second time, she had on a pinafore style apron and was carrying a huge tray of biscuits, gravy, what looked like fresh squeezed orange juice, and place settings for all three of them.
“Oh I see that Gruyere has found you. He knows when nice people are about, she said as she set the tray down in front of them and settled herself into the slightly overstuffed sofa, “ Go on, tuck in.”
They did so with relish, neither of them having eaten anything before starting out for the day’s car hunting. The biscuits were closer to croissant texture, buttery and flaky, while the gravy was closer to a thick au jus with appropriate hints of spice. Luci also seemed to be digging in with gusto, a sharp contrast to her poised demeanor just a moment before. When they had all finished, Luci whisked the tray back to the kitchen and returned to her seat on the couch.
“Mrs. Lucidoux, we….” Z started, but Luci cut him off.
“Call me Luci, please. And if you must, it would be mademoiselle,” Luci corrected him gently but firmly, “You two are here about my cars, are you not?”
“Yes, you told me that you were working on moving into Ittibittiwassee and were trying to downsize what you were taking with you,” Storm said politely.
“And you must be anxious to take a look at them. Second door on the left in the hall opens into the garage,” she replied, standing up again, seemingly unperturbed by the constant ups and downs of the morning, “Let me go retrieve the paperwork on them from my study. And don’t let Gruyere follow you in there, he’s a minx at hiding in places you don’t want him to.” She left the room quickly. Storm shot Z a sharp look and took off towards the garage. Z followed and once they were both alone he whispered, “What was with that look back there? Did I do something wrong?”
Storm sighed and shook his head, ”Yes, but also not really. You had no way of knowing and I should’ve warned you. You see, she’s like us. And she’s bitter over the fact that her partner never got to see the marriage equality we have today. That’s really why she’s moving, too many memories here.” Z blinked and made a silent “oh”, as he heard Luci’s footsteps behind them in the hallway. The lights flicked on, illuminating the two cars before them, one an off-white ‘90s sedan with mud flaps and the other, which was closest to them, was a powdery blue shooting brake with a roof rack on top.
“Ah, I think Storm mentioned over the phone that you were looking for a GT car, right?” Luci said, gesturing in front of them, “That would be my 1965 Boisseau Cadieux. Nice piece of French style, isn’t it?” She walked both of them through the eccentricities of the car with the care of someone who intimately knew the car. It was interestingly an American powered vehicle with an unusual frame that let it sit slightly lower and be more rigid than other estates of its time.
“And here we have the maintenance records and the title,” she said softly, seemingly partially lost in thought, as she spread them across the wide hood of the car.
“Storm, am I seeing this right? The title looks like it’s in French,” Z asked, puzzled, “Are you sure this is the most recent copy of the title Luci?”
“That is the only title for her that I have. She was brought over grey market in the ‘70s and that’s all they gave me,” Luci seemed puzzled, “Is there something wrong with it having a French title? I haven’t had any trouble with it before now.”
Storm’s eyes fell over her perplexed face in a look of resignation and sympathy, “Luci, if we don’t have a US title for your Boisseau here, we can’t legally transfer it over to Ze’ev if he buys it. Luci looked crestfallen at Storm’s words.
“Ah, I guess that makes up my mind for me then. I always liked her better than our sedan anyway, really rumbles when you get her going. I will just keep her with me and let my granddaughter have the other car. She will have something to really look forward to when she gets her licence.” Luci packed the title and other records back up into their folder and went back up into the rest of the house,avoiding eye contact with both of them as she left.
“Let’s give her a minute to compose herself,” Storm whispered, looking down through the window at the unique interior of the Boisseau.
Ze’ev followed his gaze over to where the glovebox was lying open, a set of initials lightly carved into the inside of the door, “Yeah, I think this is for the best anyway. Let them stay together.” When they thought enough time had passed, they went back into the house, politely thanked Luci for her time and her delicious breakfast, and set off towards their next lead.
Bin Reason: Incorrect Naming Scheme
( @jermiat The Boisseau Cadieux would’ve been a decently good competitor if the car had been named correctly with CSR145 instead of CSR144. It had fairly competitive stats, a nice design with a quirky, very French feeling interior with an almost floating dash, and relatively ok realism. The use of a Mopar sized engine in a French shooting brake was a novel idea, but it was let down by an oddly gear limited top speed, quite wide tyres for the era, and the unusual choice of semi space frame in a shooting brake body shell. I like the obvious Facel Vega styling influence, but the fit and finish on some areas, like the interior, leave something to be desired. The plate holder on the rear is cavernous for some reason, and the roof rack seems superfluous when you already have the giant boot a shooting brake provides. I also feel like some finesse with the roof shaping in 3D could’ve helped the shooting brake styling be a bit more refined and not feel like a typical estate car of the era. Going with a traditional coupe shape would’ve also been a good play here. Overall and interesting car, but not up to muster with the rest of the field, regardless of the naming error.)
Luckily the next car they were set to take a look at was only a few miles east and they arrived there slightly ahead of schedule, the previous trips having taken much less time than Storm had planned. It was another nondescript suburban house they pulled up to with a detached garage this time. Storm was the one to ring the doorbell this time and was greeted by a plump woman in her mid forties, obviously not who he was expecting.
“Is Garrett Riker there?” Storm asked politely, his usual casual aire finally returning.
“GARRETT!! Get down here!” the woman shouted back into the house, “There are people here to see you!” A boy of not more than 15 came barreling down the stairs that led into the entryway, sliding to a half just behind what was evidently his mother. He then froze under the gaze of both Ze’ev and Storm who were both surprised at Garrett’s young age. He dropped his eyes to the floor, pushed past all three of the adults and motioned for Z and Storm to follow him into the garage. The red car they found inside was not what they were expecting to find.
It was a stubby, awkwardly proportioned thing with bulky yet simplistic styling. The wheels on it were absurdly in board, making it look like it was missing wheel covers like would be on a Nash Metropolitan or so. The tyres were also super low profile and when Storm asked Garrett if they were original to the car he just said “dunno”. In fact, that was all this kid said in response to most of the questions Storm and Ze’ev asked him. The only info they were able to pull out of him was the name of the car, a Red Rambler, and yes, his dad had said that it was a GT car. Storm was obviously getting frustrated with the kid and Z tried to calm him back down, “At least we have the type of car it is and the VIN number, let’s see if the internet can give us some more info on it.”
“Sure, do that.” Storm snapped, “But I’m getting the district impression that this car is some sort of kit car masquerading as a luxury GT.”
They found info on it sure enough, distressing info. Apparently those rims and tyres were standard, and the performance specs for it were abysmal.
“I wonder what engine it has…” Z mused,“Well we have to get the hood open to check the vin anyway, so let’s get it open.”
They deftly found the latches to release the hood and as soon as Storm had the hood up he growled, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. There’s your answer to the poor performance.”
Z rounded the front of the Rambler and was appalled at the tiny chunk of iron sitting in the engine bay. He quickly found the VIN plate, ran the number, and his face fell even further, “apparently that’s the original engine too, 2.4 l i4 making a measly 128 hp.” Z had to stop Storm from slamming the hood down and bending the prop rod in anger.
Storm rounded on Garrett, who was obviously shaken, and spat, “How much do you want for this ‘GT’ car anyhow?”
Garrett gave them a price, shakily explaining that his dad had said they were rare and that’s the price he wanted for it. Storm’s anger flared even hotter at that and Z had to physically put himself between Storm and the kid to keep things from escalating further.
“Garrett, while I understand that the price your father told you to ask for it is about right by what the hagerty guide suggests, it is way too high for what the car actually is.” Ze’ev said as calmly as he could with the burning anger of Storm right behind him, “You tell him that you’d have a much better chance of selling it for a more…economical…price. We’ll get out of your hair now.”
Z dragged a fuming Storm out of the garage and into the truck before things could get worse and they drove back towards Mooseville. Storm grumbled the whole way, “Blasted kid. Just parrots out ‘dunno’ to everything we asked and then had the audacity to ask that much for what was obviously an economy car.”
Z sighed, “Yeah he was a bit naïve to think anyone would pay that much for one. Definitely not a GT car though, and the only reason they can command a high price like that is because there were so few produced and even fewer actually sold.”
“I can see why,” Storm snapped, his anger easing slightly, “the company that made them vastly overcharged for them, just like he was.”
“Hey, it wasn’t fully the kid’s fault, and I would’ve bought it anyway, even if it had been more sensible. Too muscly and the bright red would be a huge beacon of where I was at all times,” Z tried to soothe Storm’s nerves back down to somewhat normal, “let’s go get malts or something to take a break from all this. We’ve been going pretty fast this morning and I’m not in that big of a rush.”
Storm’s mood brightened at the mention of malts, “fine, but I’ll pay for them this time. I don’t want people to get the impression I’m mooching off you.”
Z laughed, “Oh that’s not the impression they get from us at all.” They both visibly relaxed as they calmly made their way back into Mooseville.
Bin Reason: Quality spam, too expensive for what is essentially an economy car stats wise.
(@Admiral_Obvious The Red Rambler fails pretty much on all accounts to meet the challenge prompt. The only good stats it has are driveability and fuel economy, both of which probably come from it being woefully underpowered. The rest of the engineering choices leave me baffled as well. Why are the wheels so far inside the body? Why did you think 55 sidewall was appropriate for a car in the '60s? Why does it have a semi clad undertray and positive camber? And why the heck did you think an asthmatic 4 cylinder making less than 150 hp was fine to put in a GT car? The use of the full budget for such a mediocre car is also a product of misplaced engineering and pure quality spam. The Rambler’s looks are super plain except for the interesting headlight set up, which I actually like. Otherwise it feels bland and encroaches on muscle car design, which was specifically advised against. Also the use of the Subaru SVX dash surround in the interior was a bad anachronism that hurt the design even more. Overall just a badly designed car with woefully misplaced priorities.)
14 Likes
I could not stop laughing the moment I first saw it - it looked and felt almost as out of place here as the infamous Blue Star from CSR 142. In fact, this was what I thought of it after seeing exactly why it failed to make the first cut:
In short, the Red Rambler was the closest thing to a meme build in this field, but whoever made it deserves full marks for audacity, ironically or not.
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Wow, I think that this was the best bin writeups I have ever seen!
5 Likes
This has to be the most thorough write up of the bins stage that I’ve ever seen
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The vast majority of European countries issue registration plates that are: 520 by 110 or 120 mm
In game size : 510 x 128 mm.
So, to my mind, a height factor of 0.9 is correct.
7 Likes
I rarely ever consider resizing plates in terms of width and height, and would rather resize and/or move the plate holder instead if it’s the wrong size and/or misplaced.
1 Like
I was wondering why the plates always looked so big to me.
Yeah unless the ruler is not accurate either, I also resize the plate to us specs 6"x12". It’s always just a lil off depending on which plate fixture I roll with. Would all be hilarious if the ruler was also scaled wrong, then how would you really know?
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I wanted to make something completely different. I had fun building it, but had strong doubts it would’ve made it past round 2 at all.
Was a bit surprising it got instabinned, but, again, I had fun trying to shoehorn something completely different into a classic GT car contest. The only thing I regret is the fact that I didn’t choose cross ply tires.
P.S. Quality spam isn’t that bad anymore.
4 Likes
Man, I always miss the fun CSRs.
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and i miss the good old “fast” CSR´s bc CSR was my favorite challenge 
but now it needs around 1 months for a single round, sadly…
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It’s been a week since the last set of bins came out - we’re still waiting for the actual judging phase, in which the remaining cars get a proper review and ranking. I suspect this is down to the current CSR coinciding with midterms for a lot of people.
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it coincided with me being out of town and having issues finding time to write with all the specs i took with me and stuff. Now that i’m back i’ll get right back to it.
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I’m still working on things. Sorry i’m slow.
You got this!
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Results Part 2: Sprinkles, Spice, and Sage Advice
It was roughly noon when Ze’ev and Storm finally made it back into Mooseville and to their favorite ice cream place on main street. They were making their way over to the counter, door bells jingling behind them, when a waif of a woman about their age waved them over to join her in one of the booths.
“Z! What has you looking like you just pulled a college all-nighter? And what’s got Storm looking so murderous?” She chimed brightly, then, lowering her voice into a teasing whisper, “You two in a domestic dispute or something?”
Storm visibly blanched at that comment, but Z took this playful jab in stride. “Nah Liz, nothing like that. Just some disappointing attempts to pry some old cars from their hiding places. I’m surprised you’re here. Letting the spirits run the shop for you while you’re on break?” Liz Hardt, dressed in a gauzy, bohemian dress, black sun hat, and tortoiseshell glasses that framed her sharp lime hazel eyes just leaned back in her seat and laughed. This was just the typical banter between these two eccentric designers. She and Ze’ev had been rivals in the specialty clothing business as soon as he had arrived and set up his brand. Through the intermediary of Derek and some learned mutual interests, they had become relatively quick friends. Liz had helped Z set up supply chain links to get local wools for his designs and in return she was allowed to help source accessories to be sold alongside his designs. He was also allowed to test out his more experimental designs in her shop, which he did under the separate label of Wulf.
Liz’s laughter subsided and she sipped her drink, saying around a mouthful of straw, “Ah, so you’re car hunting? What sorts of them have you been looking at?”
“I’ve been trying to see if I can find a nice grand tourer from the late '60s early '70s, something to push the limits of what I can use my ‘allowance’ for. And so I don’t have put as many miles on my Midlands,” Z replied as Storm pulled over a waiter to put in their malt orders, “But we’ve struck out on the places we’ve tried so far.”
“We’ve almost been scammed is what’s happened,” Storm interjected, “And I’m almost through my contact list of who’s said they might have something. We might have to do cold calls at this point.”
“That could be a bit tricky. The folks around here aren’t usually forthcoming about what they have tucked away in their farms and such, and those who are will probably drive hard bargains like you saw,” Liz’s brow furrowed in though, but then her face brightened, “I think we might have what you’re after, my family that is. Richard is in charge of the Appelhardt estate now, with mother gone, and he might know what’s hiding in the various garages better than I would. I had plans to meet him for dinner later and I’m sure he wouldn’t mind the K heir tagging along.” She then smirked at the two of them, “Though I don’t think he’d like two raggedy gearheads showing up on his manicured lawn. You’ll have more sway with him if you go home and change into something nicer first. I know you both clean up well.”
Their discussion was interrupted by the arrival of the two malts and the table fell into more casual chatter as they all ate. Z had to keep poking Storm under the table to keep his ire down whenever Liz’s slight teasing got too out of hand. He was still bothered by the rivalry between Z and Liz and thought Z was getting the short side of the deal with their inter-store assistance. Storm insisted on paying the check for all of them, even though Liz could’ve easily done the same, his pride getting the better of him. Liz parted from the boys in the parking lot, heading back across the street to her quirky boutique. They loaded themselves back up into the rollback and headed back to Pickaxe, meandering around trying to scope out potential targets. None of the barns they found bore fruit, however, either not having any cars in them at all or having ones that weren’t what Z was after.
When they finally made it back to Z’s house on Goodwinter boulevard, Z was slightly surprised to see Qwill’s car poking out from one of the garage bays. He knew that Qwill was bringing Koko over for a sort of cat play date with Freya so he could observe more of their unusual antics, but he’d expected that they would’ve left by now. They found Qwillleran and the cats in the dining room at Z’s huge antique dining table, both cats poking at the side of a dictionary. Each time they did so, Qwill would open up to that page and the other cat would lay their tail across the page and he’d read the definition they were covering aloud. The trio were so engrossed in their game that they didn’t notice the boys until both of them came back down stairs from getting changed. Storm was over at Z’s house so often it felt like he lived there sometimes, some of his clothes finding their way into closets, something Z didn’t mind at all.
“Freya is quite the fast learner,” Qwill said, turning to find both Z and Storm in the doorway dressed in practically matching outfits of purple and black, “I’ve been exposing her to all the games that Koko has used to bring my attention to things and she’s picked up each one quickly, even adding her own quirks to them. What’s got you two so dressed up?”
“We ran into Liz while we were out and about and she invited us to dinner with her brother up at his estate,” Z explained, “by the way, you wouldn’t happen to know of anyone who had some '60s GT cars would you? Maybe you did a column on some at one point? I was wanting to do some first hand research for a collection and just looking at images just isn’t cutting it.”
Qwill though for a moment before answering, “I think I remember seeing some of those when I was doing a piece on some of Maggie Sprinkle’s late husband’s paintings. She had them in an underground garage and I remember seeing a couple of cars under covers down there as well.”
Z’s demeanor perked up a bit, “I think we’d have time before we need to head back north to stop by and take a look at them.” It was at this point that Freya decided she was done with the dictionary game and pushed the book to the floor with a loud thump, startling all three of them.
“Well I guess we’re done with that game,” Qwillleran huffed, " and you two better get over there if you want to catch Maggie before she’s settled down to tea time."
With simultaneous nods, Storm and Z headed towards the door. The walk from Z’s house to the Sprinkle building on Main Street was refreshing after a day of sitting cooped up in the rollback heading all around Moose County, the slightly blustery fall sky being a comforting presence to Z and reviving the hope he’d had earlier in this endeavor. When they reached the late Victorian storefront that was the Sprinkle building, they buzzed in at the surprisingly modern security box. A tinklingly bright voice tinged with a bit of age greeted them,
“Ah, you two must be Storm and Ze’ev. Mr. Q said you’d be coming my way this afternoon. Watch your step on the way up.”
The door clicked open and the voice was right to warn them about the narrow, ancient staircase before them. It was what looked to be a set of servant’s stairs that had been repurposed as a main entry to the second floor. It was so thickly carpeted, however, that the 6 inch treads had practically been reduced by half and it was a trial in momentum to make it up safely. When they did reach the top, they were greeted by what Ze’ev felt was a stunning Victorian time capsule themed around roses and painted with a ruby brush. Poised on a settee in the middle of all this opulence was Maggie Sprinkle, a petite, slightly round woman in her late 80s who smiled as she saw the two boys appear.
“Welcome! Make yourselves comfortable and we’ll take tea before going to dig up the skeletons lurking in the basement.”
“Skeletons?” Ze’ev tilted his head quizzically. Nobody had said anything about skeletons.
“The cars you’re here to look at silly,” Maggie chortled, "that’s just what I like to call them. Adds to the mystique of them being tucked away in the basement of a 100 year old building.
Z breathed a sigh of relief, “So, Mrs Sprinkle, how many skeletons do you have rattling around down there?”
“Just 3, and do call me Maggie,” she responded, the tinge of a frown creeping at the edges of her mouth, “honorifics bring back…unwanted…memories.” She then busied herself with the tea, pouring cups for each of them. She pointed out her 7 cats, her “ladies”, sitting in the 7 windows that made up the front of her apartment. When they had finished eating, both Storm and Z trying to eat as lightly as possible but enough not to seem rude, Maggie stood up from the table rather abruptly,
“Time to take the chariot of the sun down to visit the underworld to go see those skeletons, hm?”
It was Storm’s turn to be puzzled and before he could ask what she meant, Z whispered to him, “I think she means the elevator we passed as we hit the top of the stairs.”
Storm mouthed a quick “oh” and they both followed Maggie over to what was indeed the elevator, another surprisingly modern amenity in her otherwise antique apartment. They all descended the three floors into the basement of the Sprinkle building and emerged into a small hallway cluttered with some cleaning supplies but other than the walls being whitewashed brick instead of the more modern cinder block, there was nothing to hint that they were underneath a Victorian era building. As they rounded the corner into the main part of the basement, Maggie pushed forward and spread her arms wide,
“Behold! The skeletons!”
And there they were. Past a mundane navy blue hatchback, three obviously older sports cars sat under white car covers.
These skeletons had obviously been well taken care of.
“Well. Let’s see what’s behind curtain number one,” Z said, pulling the cover off of the first car, revealing a very Italian looking dark purple coupe underneath.
“That purple seems right up your alley,” Storm said, maneuvering so he could get a better look, “though the amount of flake feels like it might have been resprayed that color.”
Maggie chimed in, “I can assure you that it is the stock color. An odd one to be sure, but it matches the build sheet.”
Ze’ev’s head popped up from where he’d been bent down examining the tyres, “You still have the build sheet from the car? That’s really something.”
“Yup. Riviera Volante GT, built August 5, 1969, finished in deep purple and black with the 318 Mopar V8,” Maggie smiled smugly, “I do know my skeletons pretty well.”
“Heh, nice.”
Z’s face brightened and then looked puzzled again, “Storm, does the camber look off to you? Why does something that has a decent chunk of American iron at the front and staggered tyres look like it’s intended to be mid engined?”
“No clue,” Storm barked back, “but I think it has to do with how the suspension was designed overall. Sits rather high and the tyres look too small.” He slid over to the driver’s door and got in. Z did the same on the passenger’s side.
“For being so high up it’s quite stiff. Almost no sag from us getting in,” Z mused, “I doubt that would make dealing with the ill prepped roads around here comfortable.”
“Yeah, and even if it can do 175 mph like the speedometer claims, it would be a bumpy ride.” Storm slid his way back out of the Volante, “The interior is nicely appointed though.”
“I think I’ll pass on this one,” Z sighed as he also excited the car, “I don’t relish the idea of bouncing around in there.”
(@Caligari I applaud you for trying to use a typically mid engined body in a front engined layout for this challenge. Most of my qualms and critique come from how you set up the running gear and suspension. The tyres are very low profile for the era, being only 55 and 50 sidewall, and 16s are also a little big, though if they had more sidewall they would’ve made more sense because they’d fill the wheel arches more. As it is, the car feels like it’s on stilts compared to the low slung bodywork. The actual suspension tuning is where I see the most issues. The camber being rear heavy feels like the car should be mid engined, with the front having less camber than the rear. The rest of the suspension settings show why your car has the lowest comfort score of the whole field. You have a lot more rear arb than you need for the level of oversteer the car was probably giving you, and by softening the rear springs would’ve let you run more front camber as well. The engine and rest of the drivetrain were quite good, a decent replica 318 with almost too much power for the era. The semi clad undertray is a bit suspect, but it is on the newer side so it would be a possibility. The only real styling qualms I have are just out being slight plain overall with minimal depth to the grills and such, and the windshield feeling a bit vertical. The big issue is the heavily resized plate on the front. I could excuse the slight resizing of the euro plates to be size accurate, but this is a Michigan plate essentially cut in half. Very odd, not very period correct. Overall the car was a bit plain and did not hold up to its high price tag against the competition. It doesn’t make it past this round.)
Ze’ev slid himself around to the front of the next car.
“Behind door number 2 we have…a checker cab?” He slid the cover off to the side and made his way around the back of the car, “mixed with what looks to be a DB5. Interesting combo. Certainly a nice color combo with the cobalt and tan.”
He did the same sort of once-over that he had given the Riviera, popping the hood to see a slightly complex i6, but didn’t think too much of it. Testing the interior he found it to be even more tightly sprung, but the actual seats and wood graining made it inviting. It would take some getting used to looking at the center of the dash for the gauges, but that made sense for what was obviously a British GT. Getting back out of the car Z asked, “what’s got you so buried in your phone? I thought you’d be more hands on with this one.”
“You’ll see why in a moment,” Storm muttered, “I thought I recognized this marque and it has been irking me that I’m having so much trouble tracking down the performance stats of this…A Hah! There you go!” He turned his phone so that Z could see what he was looking at.
“Westminster Striker 38, 3.6 liter i6, 210 hp, 0-60 time of….” Ze’ev’s eyes went wide in disbelief, “13.1 seconds?!? And the quarter mile in almost 20? That’s an immediate no for me right there. I want something with a little pep in its step.”
“I thought as much,” Storm said, turning his phone back around, “it says here that one of its key features is its complete lack of wheelspin of the line and how smooth the gearbox is. Doesn’t get particularly good mileage either with that automatic. Only 10 ish mph.”
“Yeah, we’re done with that one,” Z said curtly, mildly disgusted at himself that he’d been so willing to consider the Striker.
(@TheYugo45GV Overall the Westminster Striker 38 is a nice looking car. It blends UK, American, and Italian styling and engineering cues well, if a bit on the tame side. The engine is a bit higher tech with the 4 valves per cylinder, but isn’t too out there in terms of power for era. The use of a semi clad undertray is a bit unusual, and I hate to guess what the mpg would be without it. I applaud you for actually using medium tyres, which makes a decent amount of sense for a more sedate, traditional GT. However the Striker is not just sedate, it’s full on glacial in its slowness. I had been thinking that the low sportiness score was due to suspension tuning, but instead it’s due to the literal slushbox of a 3 speed auto you put in this thing. Wheelspin in this era was very much a thing, it’s just the extent of which that determined how the car was viewed. If this was a Rolls Royce or so, that aversion to wheelspin would make sense. Not in this category of car though, at least a bit through first gear was to be expected if not praised for being lively. As it stands, the Striker would be outpaced by stuff like the Renault R8 Gordini, which has only 95 hp. That huge performance let down is why it doesn’t make it past this round.)
Ze’ev had to brace himself for could be under the last cover. He was getting discouraged at having spent well over half the day looking for cars and each one they found being a flop. When he pulled off the cover, a sporty yet boxy cyan coupe greeted him with a quirky face and unusual badge he didn’t recognize.
“S…A…E…T…A? Saeta? I don’t recognize this one.”
Maggie chimed in, slightly correcting his pronunciation, “Saeta, that’s a Spanish brand. You hardly see any of them outside of Spain, much less with the actual V8 they put in export versions. Most of them were brought over grey market in the '80s and '90s because they were such great economy cars with the i4 in them.”
“Interesting, it doesn’t exactly feel like an economy design,” Storm remarked, “though looking at the interior it doesn’t exactly feel like a GT either.”
“Yeah, it does feel a little bare,” Z said, plopping down into one of the front buckets, “the only Spanish cars I know are Hispano Suizas, and this is definitely not that level of luxury. Seems to be peppy though. Has a 140 mph speedometer.” Looking over his shoulder he was surprised at just how little rear leg room there was. Getting back out of the car he paused in thought. He liked this Albor Sprint a lot. It gave him classic Alfa Romeo vibes, but did he really want to pull the trigger on it yet?
“Maggie, is it ok if I take a day or two to think about things? I really like this one, but I’m not sure I want to compromise on the lack of luxury features just yet.”
“That’s perfectly fine,” Maggie replied, seeing the conflict the Ze’ev’s face, “they’ve stayed skeletons in my closet for this long. A few more days won’t hurt.”
“Well I guess we’ll be leaving then,” Storm said, clapping his hands in light finality, “Thank you so much for showing us these gems. I guess we just take the elevator back up to the ground floor?”
“Yes. It was a pleasure having you boys over,” Maggie chimed as she led them back to the elevator and up to the ground floor, “You’re welcome back over here for tea anytime, as is Qwill if he can find the time.”
The boys waved a small goodbye and then headed back towards Goodwinter boulevard and Z’s house.
“You really thought they were gems?” Z asked Storm as they walked, “It seemed like you disapproved of most of them.”
“I was just trying to be polite, always helps smooth over rejection better.”
“I did like that last one though, the Saeta. Not quite as plush as I was hoping but looked nice and was definitely unique. Fiberglass body with a 2.6 liter V8. Very quirky,” Z mused as he shifted closer to Storm as they walked, “Definitely one to keep in mind.”
Storm quickened his step to increase the distance between them. They were out in broad daylight on Main St after all.
“Right now all we need to think about is making it to our dinner date with the Appelhardt’s tonight and on what Liz’s brother might have to show us,” he growled softly back.
Z’s face broke into a huge grin, “Oh so it is an actual date to you isn’t it.”
Storm immediately blushed hard and quickened his pace to the point that Z was having trouble keeping up with him. They finished the walk in silence and ended up having to change clothes when they finished because they pushed it so hard getting home.
(@Petakabras I really like the design of your car and I’m saddened that it won’t place higher in the overall rankings. The outside is quirky and cool and has that unusual charm that Spanish cars can have. The amount of detail you put in was wonderful and the proportions are like a typical early '70s GT but on a smaller scale, fitting of a car that domestically had an i4 but was given a V8 for export. However those humbler roots are what ended up being its downfall. It has the lowest prestige and price out of all the entries, using not much over half the budget and only a luxury interior. I can see why lore wise you’d go with a +3 luxury interior, and going for a slightly budget conscious build was a decent option. You just missed the mark by going too low on value and that hurt you. Still, the Albor Sprint is a wonderfully made car, very strong on both design and realism. It hits that same niche as the Giulia Sprint GTA, but it’s in a class below what I was hoping for in this challenge. It doesn’t make it to the next round.)
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Results Part 3: Hardt Rock
2 AM Release because I'm on my own timeframe, not yours
Ze’ev and Storm reached the house on Goodwinter boulevard around 5:30. Qwillleran had finally left and a very exhausted Freya was sleeping amidst a pile of papers on the study table. She let out a drowsy merp at the boys as they hurried past to get ready for dinner with Liz and Richard. They had until 6:30 to get there, but due to the brisk jaunt they took getting back to the house, they decided they both needed a shower as well as a change of clothes. Executing a quick shared shower, something they’d perfected when Z had been living at Storm’s place while his house was being renovated, and dressed in coordinating forest green outfits this time, they managed to make it out the door with just enough time for the drive up to Purple Point. They took Storm’s Aether this time, Ze’ev’s Midlands being a bit too plebeian. A 1986 Eos would turn heads most other places, but the mansions of the Grand Island community where the Appelhardt estate was demand a level of presentational luxury that only the Aether would be acceptable.
As they drove, the tensions of the day and being on guard about their relationship fell away into the cozy depths of the 17/2 R’s leather interior. They were isolated from the rest of the world and shared some much needed physical contact as the miles passed by. Storm was driving a bit quickly to make up for lost time and they were almost 5 minutes ahead of where they needed to be when they reached the bridge that connected the coastal town of Purple Point to Grand Island. Z’s grip on Storm tightened as they started over the water. He had a powerful fear of deep water, specifically being trapped in a vehicle in deep water, and Storm’s reassuring presence was the only thing that really seemed to calm it. When they had touched back onto the solid land of the island, Z visibly relaxed, easing the almost death grip he’d had on Storm’s arm. They were safe now, in more ways than one. The community on Grand Island, despite being old money, was exceedingly progressive as Z had found out working on tailoring jobs for clients out there. Most of the people who lived in the beachfront “cottages” were eccentric enough already and most of the families had at least some child that was living with a “roommate”. And most important of all, any gossip that happened on Grand Island never made it back to the mainland. Z and Storm didn’t have to hide themselves here, especially not from Liz and her brother. They reached the Appelhardt estate with about a minute to spare and Storm insisted on parking himself instead of letting the valet take over.
Liz greeted them with a smile when they made it into the main foyer of the mansion, “Glad to see you two made it ok. Z didn’t give you any bruises on the way over, did he Storm?”
Z just laughed at that and gently squeezed Storm’s hand to quell the growl that was already beginning to rise in there, “Nope, I don’t squeeze that hard. What’ve you got planned for dinner? Nothing blackened I hope?”
“Actually, I think you’ll quite enjoy what we have planned. I know you’re both fans of Japanese cuisine,” a sonorous voice rang from around a hallway corner. The voice and strong yet refined scent of Dior cologne set Ze’ev’s nerves tingling as Richard Appelhardt rounded the corner to join them. He was a few years older than his sister, just shy of 6’4’’ with dusk brown hair cropped short and fashionably spiked, and had the build and laid back demeanor of someone who had been the captain of the rowing team at an ivy league college and continued that hobby after he graduated. He had been married when Z had first met him and Liz at one of the festivals in Mooseville, but he’d divorced after tensions with him caring for his dying mother deteriorated his contact with his wife. Z had always suspected that there was more to the story, since Richard hadn’t seemed particularly happy when his wife and kids were around, but he hadn’t pried further. The subtle heat rising off of Storm was proof that this man affected him the same way he did Z, something that none of the three were bothered by.
Liz stepped between them and snapped her fingers, “back to this plain of existence you two. We’re having Unagi and three different regional variants of yakisoba tonight, and then you three can take a look at what my brother found in the garages here, ok?”
Both boys blinked and then nodded, trying hard to qwell what had been rising in them when Richard appeared. They all made their way into one of the smaller dining rooms and sat down opposite each other around a roughly circular oak table that looked more like it had been grown into that shape than crafted by human hands. They bantered back and forth about small things until the food appeared, along with a crystal pitcher full of water and an ice bucket with a trio of sake bottles. Silence overtook them as they ate, Z relishing the Unagi and the sweet yet savory sauce that coated it. They only paused for conversation between the types of yakisoba, Z asking first,
“So what exactly did you find languishing away in the garage Richard? Something that fits the bill of what I’m looking for?”
“Oh. A bit of this and that. I do think I’ve three cars in there that fit what my sister told me you were looking for.”
“What brands are they?” Storm cut in, pouring himself another glass of water, “Not another glacially slow Westminster I hope?”
“There’s a Waldersee, a Tristella, and a Newman.” Richard was interrupted by the arrival of the second round of yakisoba being brought to the table. Both Storm and Z were fully engrossed in this second bowl immediately, relishing the thick, meaty taste of the Namie style yakisoba. They barely had even a break between that and the third bowl, wanting to get to the sweet sake chaser that was tempting them on the table. All four of them were quite full at this point, with Z trying very hard not to fall into a food coma resting on Storm’s shoulder. Richard abruptly pushed himself back from the table and stood,
“Well, we’d better get you two out there to see those cars before our prospective buyer falls asleep on us.”
Z lifted his head groggily and shook it to try and clear his mind, “I’m good. It’s just that I’m not used to being up at 5 AM and carrying on until I usually head to bed. I’ll make it.”
Storm helped Z up, giving support to the almost drunk, almost asleep boyfriend, and they both followed Richard back through the house and out the back door. The cold night air hit Z and he perked back up almost immediately as they crossed the back garden to what to his eyes was a secondary house. This, however, was the garage of the Appelhardt estate, converted from a set of stables around 1908. Richard ushered them inside into pitch blackness, then he flicked on the lights and both boys’ mouths almost hit the floor when they saw what greeted them. The '60s GT cars were obvious enough, but two 1900’s behemoths dominated their immediate view and what could only be a Zagato bodied Arco Civetta hiding in the far corner.
Z gasped, “why the fuck didn’t you tell me you had those in your collection?!”
Richard replied coolly, “because one, you didn’t mention that you were interested in buying cars from that era before, and two, they’re family heirlooms and well out of even your flexible budget. Let’s take a look at the first car shall we?”
He gestured towards a red and black coupe with trapezoid wheel arches.
“This is the Waldersee you mentioned right?” Storm remarked, inspecting the places you’d expect rust to settle on the angular pieces of bodywork, “A Woland 4400 2+2 if I’m seeing things properly.”
“You’re exactly right, one of the quickest cars of its day with a sub 6 second 0-60 time.”
Z tilted his head, trying to get a good grasp on the car, " Why does it look like it has a mid '70s body kit on it? It looks odd. That wing in the back looks aftermarket too."
“Actually that’s how it came stock in '69,” Richard corrected him, “it’s a case of Germans picking engineering over the styling conventions of the time. That aero gives it a surprising amount of grip, and the under-cladding they used means it gets decent gas mileage too.”
Z just shrugged, “that makes sense, but it still just feels so…odd. Let’s just look at the next one yeah?”
(@Texaslav Overall your car is decently good. It works for something that is German designed, higher tech than other things, faster on top end, extremely fast accelerating for the era. What’s keeping it out of the finals however is how out of place and disjointed the looks of it are, as well as being expensive for what it offers. The way you styled the 4400 with the two tone split and really, really blocky wheel arches makes the car from the beltline down feel like it’s from 1975 or so. From there up it screams E type jag, which makes a bit more sense for the era. Combine the two and it just looks weird, as does the completely non integrated, cardinal locked rear lip spoiler. It just looks like it was slapped on and doesn’t mean with the rest of the design. I know Germans go function over form, but that’s a bit extreme. The front splitter is at least mostly correct for the era, and the interior is decent as well. It just ended up being a too expensive car that Z was very lukewarm about on the design to get any further.)
Z turned his gaze to the next car down the line, “So we have a purple Aston DB5 next? With a black interior that seems pretty cool. Sedate and expected, but cool.”
“That’s not exactly what that is,” Richard corrected him, “that’s a 1965 Newman Terra Six. Tbh a typical DB5, but make it lighter out of fiberglass and pull a bit more from the DB4 for body design.”
Storm laughed, “that fiberglass body didn’t make it any lighter, they did it for cost measures, saw a documentary on them once. They also have notoriously shit brakes. That’s usually the first upgrade people do to them. The fixed that issue a few years into their production run, but the '65s have a lot of brake fade.”
“I really like this dark plum paint though, is the color shift quality to it stock to?”
“That’s correct. Newman tended to do some interesting paint colors earlier than we’d usually think about them being around.”
Z had climbed into the driver’s seat at this point and let out a ball of surprise when he tested the brake pressure and found his foot fly straight to the floor, “Yikes those brakes are soft. I think I’ll have to pass on this one. I don’t want to have to explain to everyone who sees it that it’s not a DB5 and having to upgrade the brakes to make it usable would tarnish its authenticity.” He pried himself back up out of the black leather seats and moved on to the last of the three cars.
(@HybridTronny I like the Terra 6 a lot overall, but as shown in the narrative, the way you have the brakes set up on it are abysmal. 5+ percent brakes fade in sportiness is a lot, and having utility brake fade is even worse. Bumping things up to two piston disks in the front where they’re sorely needed would’ve been fine. Otherwise the car is quite realistic and well designed, though almost drawing too much inspiration from the Aston DB5 of the same year, feeling very much like a clone. The fiberglass body is very at odds with your decision to push the optimize weight slider down to three heaviest possible. I really like the color you were going for with the paint, but it could’ve been achieved with a bit less pearl and been a bit more period accurate that way. The Terra 6 is a nice car, but it ended up being too safe of a choice for Z to buy it.)
When Z finally got a good view of the last car, he almost immediately went into fanboy mode,
“Damn! I didn’t know you were hiding a Ciconia Gt3800 in here. In such a rare color combo too. Usually these got finished in a red and tan color scheme, but I’ve always liked the more unusual colors on them better.”
He quickly dove into the interior to look for the hood release and paused to marvel at the plush maroon leather and dark wood inlays,
“Ah, found it. Storm, can you give me a hand getting the hood open? It’s a two person job usually.”
Z popped back out of the car and showed Storm where to press to get the hood properly undone. Richard was surprised at how much Z seemed to know about the car already, “Well you certainly seem to know your way around a Tristella despite not owning one.”
“I did an in depth presentation on their history and design philosophy once for a school project, before I knew I wanted to go into fashion design instead of car design,” Ze’ev replied from deep in the engine bay, “nice. This even has the original a/c unit still intact. And this is the first V12 we’ve seen today, so it’s a nice change.”
He extricated himself from the engine bay and gently closed the hood back down onto its complex latch, “Despite these being just barely changed from their race cars at the time, they’re still super plush and refined. I’ll have to think things over but out of what you have here I think the Tristella is my best b….”
Z broke off, suddenly feeling lightheaded and off balance. Storm had to rush to catch him before he could fall over.
“I think we’ll need to stay over tonight, the sake seems to be hitting harder than usual,” Storm said, a bit of regret in his voice, “I hate to impose on you like this.”
Richard just grinded sympathetically, “No need to worry. There’s plenty of guest rooms in this place and it’s no trouble. Take all the time you need to be safe getting back to the mainland.”
He led the boys back across to the house and showed them to one of the upstairs bedrooms. Z babbled away the whole time to Storm about car history, the sake having finally kicked in and making him properly drunk. Storm was feeling the effects too, but not as acutely. They both however collapsed into the queen bed that was in the room they were given, curling around each other in warm pleasure.
(@Xepy Honestly there really isn’t anything wrong with your car. It’s excellently designed as usual, being strikingly Italian and using a nice color combo for the interior and exterior. The detailing is great and the way you accurately incorporated the aero bits is very historically accurate. In fact, your car scored highest in that field, and the only things bringing it down at all are a slightly low drivability score and a higher overall price. The prestige and sportiness of the car balance those out though. The only nitpick I have with it is the offset of the wheels being a bit much for the era, but that’s a minor qualm. Ze’ev is very much considering the Ciconia GT 3800 for his final choice.)
When Ze’ev and Storm finally woke the next day, it was already noon and the brightness of the sun hurt their eyes coming in from an east facing window. They slowly extricated themselves from the tangle of limbs and blankets they had become during the night, tried to fix their rumpled appearances, and made their way downstairs. The scent of food drew them into the small breakfast nook in the kitchen and they wolfed down the pastrami and rye sandwiches that were offered to them by Liz. She told them that Richard was out with his rowing buddies and wouldn’t be back until later that evening. They finished up eating, thanked her for the food and Z said that he still needed some time to think before he pulled the trigger on buying anything. Liz made a snide remark about Z taking things slow and Storm took that as his cue to drag Z out to their car and head back to Pickaxe.
When they were safely back on the mainland after another grueling trip over the connecting bridge, Z asked, “So what exactly did he have to show us car wise? All I remember is finishing up the meal and being led into a bright garage and fuzzy shapes of purple, white, and red and then just being surrounded in your scent.”
“Well, there was a Waldersee, which was the red car you saw. You didn’t like that one at all. The purple one was a Newman Terra Six, which you thought was a DB5 and then balked at due to weak brakes and feeling bland overall. You then proceeded to go nuts over the white Tristella he had parked in there, rambling about the company’s history and stuff until you almost fell over. I had to practically carry you back inside. How much sake did you end up drinking anyway?”
“Around half a bottle I think? It was the strawberry one.”
Storm’s head whipped around to stare at Z, “babe, you do realize that the Ichigo sake is around 20% alcohol right? No wonder you don’t remember much.”
Z just laughed, “it wasn’t that bad, and I had my big strong buddy to take care of me. X3” He put his hand softly on Storm’s thigh, which immediately made Storm’s face red.
“Hey, what’s that over there?” Z pointed to a teal blob that was slowly manifesting into a car pulled off to the side of the road, “That looks right up my alley, and maybe he’ll sell it to us if we help him.”
Storm pulled the Aether up behind the stricken vehicle, put the hazards on, and both boys got out to see what exactly the issue was. They rounded the far side of the car to see an older gentleman, maybe in his mid 60s, carefully inspecting the front tyre that he’d pulled off the car. The man looked up as they approached,
“Ah, and who might you two young fellows be?”
“I’m Storm, and this is Z. I’m the chief mechanic at a shop in Pickaxe. What’s wrong with your car?”
“This tyre’s leaking air badly, possibly a bit dry rotted,” the man slowly got to his feet and put out his hand to each of them, which they shook, “I’m Lungus Fung, perhaps you’ve heard of me, from Love Piston.”
A small spark of recognition showed in Storm’s eyes, being the one more musically knowledgeable of the two, but Ze’ev was evidently clueless,
“Love Piston? What’s that?”
“A band, not really your sort of music though,” Storm said dismissively, “I think I have a couple cans of fix-a-flat in the trunk. That should hold some air in the tyres until we can get you back to the garage and get some new ones.” He turned and headed to get the cans from the Aether’s trunk.
It was at this point that Z was able to fully take in what exactly this car was. Rounding the front of the car, he let out a small gasp.
“This is a Valiant Horizon, isn’t it?” He asked Lungus, trying to look less shocked than he felt, “What year is it exactly?”
“1963”
“So it’s pre Nagase merger then. Interesting.” Z circled around the Valiant, inspecting the body for wear and tear, “and it looks to be the 2+2 body style as well.”
“Yes, those were quite rare,” Lungus was surprised just how much this kid seemed to know about his car, “My father bought this around the time I was born and was supposed to give it to me sooner, but I only learned about it after he’d passed on. I’m getting on in years myself, so I’m doing one last big road trip in it before I can’t anymore.”
Storm returned with the cans at that point and with an uncharacteristic amount of bluntness, “Would you be interested in selling it?”
“Selling it? Possibly. As long as it would be well taken care of. She can be temperamental sometimes.” Lungus frowned slightly with a bit of wistfulness on his face, “Yeah I’d probably be willing to sell it to you two, since I guess that’s what you’re really asking.”
Storm opened his mouth to start asking about price when Z jumped in, flustered at how fast things were progressing, “Wait wait wait. I haven’t even fully said I’m interested in it yet.”
“It’s obvious that you are,” Storm quipped, “You practically have a tail wagging behind you showing you’re excited.”
“Yes, but still. I need some time to think things over first,” Z turned to Lungus,“We’ll get your tyres patched up and then lead you into Pickaxe. I doubt we’ll have the exact tyre size this car needs in stock. We can get you a room at the Pickaxe hotel for a couple nights until they come in. That’ll give both of us time to think this over right?”
“Sounds good to me,” said Lungus, hiding a chuckle at how hard Z was trying to contain his excitement, “Just lead the way.”
Storm helped Lungus seal each tyre with the fix-a-flat and then they all climbed back into their respective vehicles and started making a much slower trek back into Pickaxe. When they were alone again in the Aether, Z rounded indignantly on Storm,
“Why the hell did you just ask him if he wanted to sell his car like that?!”
“Because I knew you weren’t going to until it would be too late,” Storm replied smugly, “You have to make the most of chances like this when you can. And come on, it was obvious in more ways than one that you wanted that car.”
Z subconsciously crossed his legs, “That may be right, but now I have two people waiting for me to pick their car. And this is only the first weekend of car hunting, what if something better comes along and I’ve already picked?”
“Then you don’t pick yet and leave your options open,” Storm reassured, “I doubt those tyres will get here in the next couple of days, especially if we want period correct looking radials.”
Ze’ev slumped down in his seat and they rode in silence for the rest of the trip to the garage where they got the Valiant settled into one of the storage bays. They then took Mr. Fung to the Pickaxe hotel and found him a room for the week and finally they retired back to Z’s house on Goodwinter boulevard to round out the weekend with a chill evening binging anime and just enjoying each other’s company.
(@TheHengeProphet Props to you for submitting to your first CSR round and for giving me a way to weave your car into the narrative I’m spinning. The Valiant Horizon is a really well done car. Clean, good stats, well thought out design and lore, and a really nicely detailed interior. My only real gripes about the car are that it has a bit more brake fade than I would’ve hoped from something that is supposed to have a race pedigree and the rear seats could easily have been made a proper width. I would’ve been suspect of the 10+ quality on the aero of the car as well if you hadn’t specifically pushed that in your lore. Also, the front end is quite adorable and reminds me very much of lotus design language, which is always a plus. Z is also considering the Valiant as one of his final picks, so great job for a first CSR entry.)
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Results Part 4: Daemons of modern art.
The final part.
Ze’ev and Storm put their car search on hold for a bit after that first tumultuous weekend. They fell mostly back into their normal work routine, letting the Moose County gossip mill work its magic in bringing them new leads for places to hunt. The tyres for Mr. Fung’s Valiant we’re also taking a while to arrive, having to be shipped in from down below. Qwillleran, meanwhile, had been continuing to test Freya’s extrasensory capabilities. He’d confided in Z that there was a murder case he was subtly investigating, something to do with a sheep ranch in West Middle Hummuck, and that both Koko and Freya had been seemingly leaving him clues in the games they were playing together. This didn’t fully surprise Z, since Freya was a key component in his tend hunting for his brand, but it was a bit shocking to hear of her figuring out a murder. Z was surprised however when on the following Thursday he received a call from Jim Bushland, a well known local photographer and husband to one of his regular clients in Lockmaster.
“Hey Ze’ev, this is Bushy. You free this Saturday to help me with something?”
"Yeah I’m mostly free Saturday, what exactly did you need help with? A photoshoot I’m guessing?
“Yup. One of Qwill’s old flames from down below just moved up here and she brought her car collection with her. I can’t drive stick worth a damn, but I know you do and that you’re into old stuff like this.”
“Sounds like fun, do you mind if I bring Storm along?”
“Certainly. Both of you can come. It’ll make moving things around faster.”
“When do you want us there, and where is this shoot happening? I’ll need to make sure Storm isn’t knee deep in car parts like he usually is on Saturdays.”
“Ms. Wright wants me there at 4 pm, so we can get that golden hour vibe that she wants for her ads. I’m south of you so I’ll just pick you both up at your house on Goodwinter at say about…3:30?”
“Sounds good to me. I’ll let Storm know to be ready and over here around then.” Z hung up and leaned back in his chair. Freya yawned and stretched across Z’s desk, knocking a few markers onto the floor in the process.
“An old flame of Qwill’s hmm. And she’s working on selling off some of her car collection,” he mused, “Maybe I’ll find something there that fits what I’ve been looking for.”
The rest of the week ticked by faster than usual with the possibility of finding something to compete with the Valiant and Tristella tantalizing Z. Storm concurred when Z’d told him about the shoot that they might find something unusual there, especially since Ms. Wright was from down below. Saturday came and Bushy picked both boys up at just before 3:45, apologizing for being late.
As they started north, Z asked Bushy rather pointedly, “Where exactly is this photoshoot happening? You never actually told us.”
“Oh, yeah, that.” Bushy looked slightly ashamed of himself, “Ms. Wright told me not to tell anyone where she is since she doesn’t want the fact that she’s here leaking out into the grape vine. I was ok to tell since I’m in Lockmaster, but she doesn’t want Qwill finding out she’s here until she surprises him next week. She just bought one of the houses on the mainland side of purple point.”
Storm leaned forward from his place in the back seat, “So what sorts of cars is she having you photograph and us move around all afternoon?”
“A bit of this and that. She has some fairly eccentric tastes,” Bushy replied, speeding a bit to make up for lost time, “though most of it is a bit newer than you’re looking for. She has a thing for Italdesign boxes.”
“Ah. That makes sense.”
They sped along the lake shore road, eventually getting there about five minutes late, something Bushy hastily tried to explain to the severe looking woman who was waiting for them when they arrived. She turned to face the boys, barely registering that Storm was there but her gaze linged over the more current fashions Z was wearing.
“And you must be Ze’ev?” she asked, her tone softening and holding out her hand, “Alacoque Wright. It’s a pleasure to meet someone up here that has such fine taste.”
Z shook her hand, despite it being proffered in such a way it was obvious she expected a gentlemanly kiss, “much obliged Ms. Wright.”
She winced slightly at the abrupt change of hand position, “Call me Coqie. Let’s get to work photographing my collection of mechanical art.”
Turning abruptly, her sharp black bob swinging in a wide ark, she led them around her slightly smaller mansion to the back lawn where a red carpet was laid out in a similar fashion to what would be on a concourse lawn.
“I wanted to make sure my beauties were showcased like the fine specimens they are,” Alacoque gestured to the long brick garage a bit behind where the carpet was spread, “The cars are in there. You’ll pull them up onto the carpet from the east so we can get the proper glow as the sun sets. We’ll go in alphabetical order.”
They got to work, Ze’ev and Storm pulling the cars up through the concourse set and Bushy and Alacoque taking what seemed like an astounding amount of pictures of each car. Z found himself having to interpret some of Coqie’s designerese for Bushy. This prompted her to start acting slightly flirty towards Z. As they went, he tried dropping subtle hints that he was interested in maybe buying one of the cars. This proceeded to cause her to increase her flirtations and Z had to constantly smooth Storm’s hackles when they were alone prepping the next car in the garage.
“Alright, we’re down to the last three of my collection,” Alacoque said, turning to Z with a hand laid suggestively on her hip, “they’ll probably be more up your alley in terms of era, darling.”
Z recoiled from her use of that term, but was distracted by the sleek silver coupe that Storm was pulling up the staging area. She was right that it was closer to what he’d been looking at all week, but seeing the front end worried him.
After the first few pictures were taken, Alacoque decided that she wanted the headlights on. Z sighed when his worries were confirmed. The Lynx 400 Vitesse did in fact have the same sort of headlights that Austin Healey sprite and '80s Porsches have, a particular type of pop up Z actively disliked. He understood the tendency of French manufactures to make quirky design choices, but the way those headlights bulged and the grill shape made the front end resemble a frog.
Storm got back out of the Lynx after turning the headlights on and made his way over to Z, whispering, " So what did you think of this one? I kinda hope you’re not considering it, because it was hell over the tiny bumps in this pristine lawn. I’d hate to see what it’s like on a gravel road."
“I liked the design well enough from the back,” Z whispered back, “but that face it has is just …no. Pity, because I liked the paint on it too. A nice lavender silver.”
(@Mart1n2005 Your build is really, really well put together. The interior is nice. The engineering is solid apart from having staggered tyres when you very much didn’t need too and the second lowest comfort value. The paint is a beautiful choice and the way you combined fixtures to compliment the sweeping forms of the body is wonderful. And then you have the French quirkiness of those headlights that just throws everything off. If it had slightly more traditional headlights instead of the close set pop ups and was a bit cheaper with better stats, it would’ve been in the final cars Z’s considering. You did place really high overall though and I commend you for thinking outside of the box. Great job.)
Z was handed the keys to the Lynx and as he returned it to its place in the garage he saw that Storm hadn’t been exaggerating how rough the ride quality was. After swapping keys from the huge peg board that housed them at the end of the garage, Z found his way to the car they went to and just stopped, brain working furiously to comprehend the bright silver coupe before him.
The Propeller Uberflieger sitting before him looked like coachbuilt amalgamation of the roof a '70s land yacht, mated to main body of a typically unique '60s sports car, and as he moved around the front of the beast, it morphed into the architecture of a 1930’s car. He shook his head to clear it and climbed into the driver’s seat. The interior was surprisingly spartan, with no obvious radio like most of the other cars had. He soon found out, due to fumbling trying to figure out where the ignition was, that this was due to the car having a fracking record player stuffed up under the center of the dash. When he finally got the car started and pulled out of the garage, he realized just how useless that record player would be with the vibrations coming from what he could tell was a huge V12 . He was just stunned at the car overall and felt insulted when Alacoque tried to ply him with a cheaper price, assuming the eccentricity of the car would delight him.
(@Mikonp7 You know exactly the type of car you’ve made here. The design is just bonkers from start to finish, and while it’s a brilliant example of what can be done with 3D fixture placement, it is just not something Z would ever own. The engineering feels like it’s from a decade or two newer than it actually is, using a huge V12 and making close to 350 hp. That makes wheelspin go through both and second gear and brings the drivability perilously low. The slap in the face that is your decision to put a phonograph in it when it is specifically mentioned in the briefing that this is not a smart idea is just painful. I know you’ve said many times that you don’t always read the entirety of the brief, but it still is an odd choice. You stuck to your design vision and inspiration car and that’s commendable. It just didn’t work out for you in the end. Z is very much not interested in the Propeller and the only reason this review wasn’t in an earlier segment was due the thematic groupings I wanted to put the cars into. There’s reasons why a car being low production doesn’t always translate into it being a valuable asset.)
Z chucked the Propeller’s keys at Storm a bit harder than he meant to. “Please let this last car actually be good,” he thought to himself as the bustle trunk of the Uberflieger disappeared back into the garage. His quiet internal plea seemed to be immediately answered by what appeared out of the garage next.
The dusty blue that emerged left Z relatively speechless. It took all his willpower to keep himself running over to inspect it as soon as Storm had stopped it on the carpet. As Bushy and Alacoque we’re taking pictures, Storm could barely suppress his laughter at how visibly Z was excited.
“You obviously know what this is don’t you,” he smirked.
“1970 Venturi S5,” Z was almost breathless with awe, “these are super rare. Wonderfully quick at Le Mans. It’s said that the reason they ran them with such big tyres was to compensate for the narrow steering angle. Bodied in house too, none of that pininfarina meddling.”
“You’ll be disappointed to know then that it’s an automatic.”
“Actually, no. That just means it hasn’t been a race car,” Z was literally vibrating at this point, “The automatics are technically rarer, since most of the people who bought these originally did so with the intention of racing them. Still quite quick though. Had to physically limit it to 155 so the transmission wouldn’t spin itself apart.”
Holding Z still for a moment, Storm called over to Alacoque, “Hey, how much are you planning on listing this Venturi for?”
“About 63 k,” she called back. It was a good thing she was facing away from them at that moment, otherwise she would’ve seen Z practically faint.
Storm positioned himself between Z and the other two and whispered, “Look, I know you’re really into this car and everything, and I don’t blame you. We need to play this cool so she doesn’t bring the price up to what it should be and you need to let this sit in your brain overnight. You still have the Valiant and Tristella you were looking at, remember.”
Z nodded quickly and was practically mute the whole time they were putting the Venturi and packing back up Bushy’s photography gear. Alacoque thanked them and then Bushy drove them back to Pickaxe, stopping only briefly to treat them to dinner. Z had a difficult time falling asleep that night, turning the options he had over and over in his mind until the warmth of his bed and Freya finally overcame him.
(@Kyorg This car is amazingly designed, both inside and out. The issues I’ve found with it on an engineering and realism front are achingly minor. First is the rim size and tyre stagger. 17s are large for the era, but with how extreme the bodywork if the car is and your keeping of an era correct sidewall amount makes them fit. The amount of tyre width difference is also larger than normal, but checks out against other Italian couples of the era. As does the second oddity of per cylinder injection, which is very much viable for an Italian car. You’ve essentially crafted me a 2+2 version of a Bizzarini Strada and wrapped it in bodywork that combines racecar airflow with Italian panache. The level of detail you went to is extreme, adding that spare tyre under the rear and thinking about how to tuck everything into the interior. If it wasn’t obvious, the Venturi is in the final three.)
Ze’ev was awoken the next day by his cell phone ringing incessantly. Apparently Storm had been trying to get ahold of him since the tyres for Mr. Fung’s Valiant had finally come and he was getting impatient about leaving.
“So have you made up your mind about which one you’re picking yet?” Storm barked as soon as Z answered, “it seemed pretty obvious to me, but I want to make sure you didn’t have a change of heart last night.”
Groggily Ze’ev answered, “Yeah. I’ve thought about things and you’re right. I’ve decided to go with…….”
The 1970 Venturi S5!!!
Thank you very much to everyone who participated in this round and humored me through my unconventional review style. The final rankings are as follows.
1st @Kyorg
2nd @Xepy
3rd @TheHengeProphet
4th @mart1n2005
5th @HybridTronny
6th @Mikonp7
7th @Texaslav
8th @Petakabras
9th @Caligari
10th @TheYugo45GV
11th @jermiat
12th @Arn38fr
13th @Admiral_Obvious
An aside about the running of this challenge
I firstly want to apologize about how long it has taken me to run this challenge. From the delays getting the original rules post out due to waiting for an update to drop, to having the reviews be waylaid due to underestimating the free time I would have on one of my trips, I have taken way more time than I should have to keep the challenge running smoothly. That being said, it has not felt like it has been 2 months since this CSR round opened. I have a major issue with time perception, so it feels like it’s only been maybe a month in total. I also tried to keep the submission period open for a whole month due to any less feeling way to short for people to who have other priorities in life to make detailed designs. I also got carried away with the lore writing in this because I was actually enjoying the writing.
This all being said, the way I hosted this challenge should very much be treated as an outlier in the recent trend of CSR rounds. I understand the sentiments around wanting a shorter timeframe for each round. I was not around at the point of these shorter rounds, so the perception I’ve always had of CSR is that it’s the premier challenge to build for, a trial by fire that would put you up against the best builders in the community. This perception is also why I put so much effort into making the reviews of this round the best that I could from a feedback standpoint, what I would’ve wanted have when I entered this challenge series for the first time. Having the argument of CSR length pop back up continually throughout the end of my reviews for this challenge really sapped my enjoyment and motivation to finish with the quality I started with. It felt like no matter how hard I pushed myself to get things out faster, it wouldn’t be good enough. It’ll probably be a long time before I get to host a CSR round again due my skill level and contrariness in build style, so I hope those who did read through most of what I wrote for reviews enjoyed the story I spun here and the feedback I gave to the entrants, and those who just wanted this saga to be over are glad to be back to more typical length rounds.
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