Highway Hooligans
Day 3, 8-10a - “Outta My Way!”
11:00
The blaring loud music was still going when they caught up to the Vango of Team Harcourt-Entwhistle. The decision was made then and there to ‘get their attention’ as they pulled into the Farewell Bend State Recreation Area, and Marcus intentionally gave their van a “little” bump.
As soon as both vehicles were stopped, Marcus got out of the car and swung at Spanners with a sock full of loose change, though missed and pounded a dent into the driver’s door before the sock burst, sending pennies flying all over the area. “Try to kill us, you fuckin’ prick, I’ll fuckin’ bury you in a shallow fuckin’ grave!” Marcus yelled, landing several punches on Spanners, though not entirely unscathed himself. Spanners managed to land an uppercut on his jaw, and kicked the door open, knocking Marcus over. The two fought for several rough minutes before the cops arrived, presumably called by some bystanders outright terrified at the altercation.
11:30
“Officer, these fuckers-” Marcus started to say.
“Watch your language. You already have a quite healthy rap sheet, so cut the crap.”
“These morons took the lug nuts off of our car last night. All but one on each wheel. That’s trying to kill us, attempted murder. Thing is, Officer, your kind never seem to do justice on those deserving of it, no, they go after everyone else for traffic tickets.” Marcus said, trying to remain rational as more patrol cars arrived.
“Then call it in if you’re sure they did it. Not take matters into your own hands. This isn’t Chicago, land of Gangs and corrupt cops, this is Oregon. We do things differently out here, like arresting scum who run minivans full of children off the road and start fights with other motorists.”
“Calling you would have been as useful as putting a snake in the hen-house.” Marcus shot back.
“Marcus, knock it off! If he gets more pissed at us, he’ll impound the car and then we’re stranded out here in the ass-end of nowhere with nothing to our name.” Jake said, glaring over the roof of the car.
“Should do it anyway, but because you three aren’t part of this, and all three of you stayed out of this, I’ll let you keep your car. But you guys get pulled over again in this shitbox in my state, and you’re walkin’ back to Chicago.”
“Ain’t my first time in a cop car.” Marcus said, getting put in the back of an Oregon State Cruiser. “Won’t be my last, neither.”
11:45
Jake took the driver’s seat reluctantly, then said, “We’ll have to drive in shifts to make it, but we may still have a slim chance of finishing this on time. But we’re short one driver, the car’s banged up, and I think he blew the speakers out on the radio, so we don’t really have any music. And if we get caught speeding, we’re getting pulled over, impounded, and we’ll have to find alternate means to make it back to Chicago.”
Trevor looked up at him, then said, “Could be worse. If nothing else, I know a guy out this way, sells junkers for cheap. We lose this car, at least we can get some rattle-trap that’ll get us home.”
“With what money? Mark’s the only one who had cash to spare on this trip.” Cody said. “Fuckin’ idiot. Of course he had to fly off the fucking rails and cause an incident, and didn’t have the forethought to at least stick a fat wad of cash in the glovebox to get us through this.”
“Well, at least we have the car. Do we have any food?” Jake asked.
“Nope. We packed spare parts, remember, not much in the way of food.” Trevor replied.
“Okay, wallets out, no holding out on me here. How much do we have between the three of us?” Jake asked. A few minutes of counting, stacking, and adding anything they could find gave them a grand total of a whopping $200 to finish the trip.
“So, we need gas, and food, and lodging out of that 200 bucks.”
“Won’t need lodging if we finish this shit early. Scratch that out.” Trevor said.
“Still leaves us gas, and food. And you can’t pump your own in Oregon for some stupid reason, which means it’ll be more expensive.” Jake said.
“We could try to sell some of the spare parts in the trunk.” Cody mentioned.
“That’s a great idea, except that guarantees we break whatever we sell, and strand our stupid selves out here in the ass-end of fucking nowhere for no reason.”
“We’ve not had that many breakdowns so far. I’ve heard other teams were doing far worse.” Cody responded.
“Murphy’s Law. Now that we can’t just run out and buy the part and fix it, everything will start breaking. Plus, keep in mind we’ve got that wobbly driveshaft that could fall out at any time, and whatever damage your idiot brother caused when he side-swiped the minivan, plus the fact that this thing’s a pile to begin with, and we’re just driving a ticking fuckin’ time-bomb waiting for the next problem.” Jake said. He turned the key to start the engine, and a loud ‘bang’ sounded, and everything went white for a moment.
DING! “You have been in an accident. Please remain calm and contact emergency services.”
“Fuck you too, Ivan. Airbag in the fucking face. Trevor, give me your pocket knife so I can remove this piece of shit from my steering wheel.” Jake said, rolling the windows down to let the smoke out. Trevor handed him a pocket knife, and the remainder of the time period was spent removing the air bags and clipping the covers back in place enough to look normal. Trevor stuffed the ruined bags in the trunk and took his knife back, while Cody pulled his seatbelt on and tried to get over the fact that he’d just had a malfunctioning airbag hit him in the head.
Jake flipped open the fuse box and yanked fuse 27, the one that controlled IVAN. “At least we won’t be hearing that for the rest of the trip.”
Aftermath:
Morale: 0 (-5) - Lost a team member, Car’s malfunctioning, and not a lot of cash to go around.
Fatigue: +2 (+2) - Cop made us sit in the car with the windows up and the air conditioning off.
Waypoints: 7
Status: Demoralized. Setting up for shift driving. Jake is driving - Expect gearbox abuse.
Note: With the loss of Marcus, the ‘shit-list’ no longer exists.
