Backstory part 1
1959
South Carolina
Earl Bauer’s father died quite suddenly from sepsis, leaving Earl, 17 years old, to step into the role of a functional adult, helping his mother run their farm. The first order of business was to replace their ten year old farm truck that had long been on its last legs. Utility aside, Earl is also keen to have a set of wheels to impress his friends, and more importantly, a prospective mate. Somehow, he manages to accomplish the latter with a Flint Adirondack 97, solid and reliable as an anvil, and every bit as stylish and comfortable. Regardless, he ends up dating and then marrying a classmate, Wendy.
Backstory part 2
1964
South Carolina
Earl and Wendy have been happily married, are now expecting a child, and need something more family-friendly for a primary vehicle. After much hemming and hawing, they settle on an Angus Lionhead, the Flint pickup now relegated to farm and backup duty, to the relief of everyone’s backsides.
Backstory part 3
29 June 1975, mid-evening
Somewhere east of Kelowna, British Columbia.
“Yall broke down?” Earl called out the window of his 1964 Angus Lionhead at a trio of “sunbathers” standing around an open hood, looking first with displeasure at the steam rising from it, then with quickly growing smiles towards him. One of them, a rather portly fellow, looked especially pleased as he turned towards Earl and approached him with his hand extended.
“A Suth’nuh! Ah’d recognize that drawl anywhere, ‘specially up here! Yessir, we overheated climbin’ this here hill, an’ we sure are grateful you stopped. Y’ got any water?”
Earl smiled back with pleasant surprise at the familiar accent, then raised an eyebrow and leaned back with a quizzical smirk.
Jolly and rotund, he could pass for Santa Claus, Earl thought, except I’d rather smell a dozen reindeer’s backsides than whatever that cologne is. But I’ve smelled this before, too…
“Sure do, but… say, mister, have we met? You look a mite familiar. I’m Earl Bauer, from South Carolina.”
The man’s eyes went wide as he guffawed loudly, slapping his thighs, as Earl got out of the Angus and offered his hand to be crushed by Santa’s sweaty, meaty palm.
“Earl Bauer?! Well I’ll be! Fred Lugoff Jr., and if my memory is what it used to be, I sold you this very car sometime… oh, '65, ‘round then? I didn’t recognize you at first with the beard! And with the getup - look at you! What in tarnation are you doin’ all the way up here?”
Earl fidgeted for a brief moment. He was long accustomed to answering this question from locals, sometimes from fellow expats, and even occasionally from a southerner, but someone from this close to home was an unnerving novelty. How much did Fred know, he wondered.
“Sixty four, actually. And this here’s now my home. Has been since '68. It’s, uh… quite a journey. How 'bout yourself?”
“Aw, shoot, I wish it were something like bein’ on vacation, but long story short…” Fred hesitated, then looked again at Earl’s hair below his ears, his beaded deerskin jacket, his scruffy beard last trimmed at least a few months ago, and calculated that he was safe to tell the truth. He sighed, his smile vanished, and shrugging at the ground, blurted, “They tried to send me to Vietnam.” He paused, flustered.
His eyes pleading for validation, Fred continued. “Some bureaucrats up north expected me to pack up and shut down my business and go muck around in some jungle, risking my life for some domino bullshit… pardon my French, Earl… and pardon my manners. Let me introduce you to Sandy and Leonard, my employees.”
Earl greeted them, then turned to Fred. “It’s all right, brother, I’m in the same boat.” Earl replied, ‘brother’ having slipped out accidentally, as he realized when Fred responded with a bemused look.
“‘Brother’, huh? You become one of them ‘hippie’ types? No offense, but ya sure look like one.”
Earl chuckled, walking back to the Angus’ trunk to look for the water. “A lot’s changed over the years, Fred. Not just the world around us, but my awareness of it, and my place in it. When we were kids, things were a lot simpler: stuff is good, more is better, produce and consume and produce and consume and that’s the right way, the only way, the American way. Meanwhile, right and wrong, good and evil were as clear as up and down, black and white, and it was the duty of everyone on the good side to support the fight against the bad. Just after I bought this car from you, I did my duty, signed up for Selective Service.”
He handed Fred two water jugs. “My old man, may he rest in peace, served in Sicily, then Normandy. He came back minus two fingers, plus some shrapnel in his gut that ended up killin’ ‘im, but nobody had a tinge of doubt that it wasn’t for something worth fightin’ for. But this upbringin’ that was so clearcut… it didn’t jive with what we were seein’ every night on the news from about '65 on.”
https://youtu.be/W0AmOw06lA0?t=24
“It was becoming less clear. Then, around early '68 or so, it began to become more clear again. More clear that this was wrong. That we had no goddamn business in Vietnam in the first place, let alone actin’ the way we were. But as business goes, politics ain’t none of mine, so I just sort of quietly hoped 26 would come and go and I’d be out of A-1 before my number came up… and then a week before my 26th birthday, the draft summons arrived.”
Fred paused filling the radiator, the familiar terminology having touched a nerve. Earl continued, “I remember the afteroon that letter came. I’d just come home with a toy soldier set for Henry. And I must’ve stood there for a good hour or so just starin’ at him, then at the letter, a real nasty taste in my mouth forming as I watched him playing with these little plastic men. And thinkin’ of these self-appointed Masters of War who were playing with real lives, with our world like it’s their little toy. I was placed on this earth to love and care for my wife and child. And they wanted to take me away from them, put a gun in my hands and hide from my eyes while I did what? Where? To whom? And why, for whose profit?”
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JEmI_FT4YHU
Fred stood up and gave Earl a look quite unlike that of the sleazy car seller persona he’d demonstrated previously. It was a look of respect. “And your wife… uh… Wanda?”
“Wendy.”
“Yes, Wendy. She came with you? Didn’t yall have a farm, and a growing one at that?”
Earl hesitated, before replying, “We did… but on top of this draft hangin’ over my head, some neighbors I’d previously respected got real sour real quick when I burned my draft card and explained why. Then they called me a commie and a coward. I’m wiser now, but back then I responded with what I thought anyone would’ve done. Well, the law disagreed, and I did two weeks in county jail for assault. They didn’t call me a coward after that, but their whole clan threw every other form of harassment and making my life there hard you can think of… Seemed half the town turned against me, and things were lookin’ pretty upside down for a moment. Long enough that Wendy, Henry, and I packed up an’ peaced out.”
“Earl, I don’t blame you one bit. Y’ain’t no coward; makin’ a move like this takes a lot more courage than just staying in your spot in line for the slaughterhouse. You’re around here, then?”
“Outside Nelson, a few hours east of here. Apparently that’s where a lot of draft dodgers have ended up. I was in Kelowna for errands.”
“An’ what about the peace sign and the new look and all?”
“That’s an even longer story. For now, let’s just say I’ve learned a thing or two they don’t teach you in school, and made some lifestyle choices on that basis… Radiator’s filled, then?”
“Yep,” Fred replied, and instructed Leonard in the driver’s seat to start the car, and for Sandy to bleed the cooling system. Turning back to Earl, he said, "Ain’t it just peachy, how these things just crash-land into your life? When my draft came, just a month after my second wife divorced me, I tried to fight it tooth and nail, but they threatened to lock me up and take away my business, and the fight alone was draining time and money. I had to fire sale inventory to pay lawyers. Then Ernie’s Engine Emporium across town offered me a square deal on the building, the lot, and everything left on it. I took it, and now here I am too. "
“You live around here?”
“Live and work. I took the money from that final sale and used it to open another import car dealership - Lugoff’s Import Cars of Kelowna, BC. Come on down! And bring this ol’ sled with ya; I’m pleased as punch that I sold you something that’s lasted this long, but it’s lookin’ pretty tired these days, doncha think?”
Earl smiled at the car, then back at Fred. “‘Angie’ here has served us real well, covered the drive from Carolina like a champ and even held up ok with these winters. Partly ‘cause I’m a bit far off the beaten path these days, and can’t drive it much of the winter in the first place. I’ve got a much bigger family now, though, and there’s a four-by truck and a couple other rigs to borrow. So I’m keepin’ it in mind, but not really lookin’ at the moment.”
Sandy gave the engine some revs to purge the air bubbles in the coolant. Earl gestured to the car. “Say, what’s this fancy thing anyway? Engine sounds like nothing I’ve ever heard.”
“Nordwagen Odin with a V12, one of the early models unfortunately. Rides like a cloud but overheats too easily; they thought they could get away with this tiny little slot for the radiator airflow.”
“Not for me, but I’ll look you up next time I’m in town. I oughtta get goin’, though; I got another five hours til home. Nice to run into you, Fred! Yall good to go, then?”
Fred screwed the radiator cap back on, swung the hood shut, and exchanged a thumbs-up with Leonard, who’d been watching the temperature gauge. “I reckon so. Thanks again! See you around!”
Fred opened the reverse-hinged rear door to get in, smiled and waved goodbye.
30 June 1975, late afternoon
Nelson, British Columbia
“The hell? This place doesn’t even have a back door,” a puzzled Starship mused aloud, scratching his dreadlocks as if to summon some understanding of this paradox, but summoning only dandruff, pot seeds, and unidentifiable debris.
“Are you that thick, brother, or still trippin’? Nevermind, don’t answer that. If it says ‘hippies use back door, no exceptions’, and it ain’t got one, it means an unenlightened establishment and we move on. Let’s try the next place.” And with a mutter, Wendy ambled back towards their 1964 Angus Lionhead.
“Assuming this poor thing makes it… oh, fer cryin’ out loud, not again!”
A shiny black river of sludgy, acrid-smelling goo was snaking its way from somewhere under the car. Wendy held her multitude of beads back and crouched down to smell it.
“Seriously, when will they ever learn? Repeat after me: despite the name, patchouli oil does not patch oil leaks! And when will we learn, that ‘good vibes’ and ‘healing energy’ are all well and good but do not a competent mechanic make! Dancing Bear is fired from being Family Mechanic! And when will I learn…” She paused to catch a frustrated breath.
“Heyy man… just chill out…”, drawled a groggy-sounding voice from the Angus’s back seat. “The universe will provide, just like–”
“Ah, shove it up your root chakra! It’s just as well you tagged along on this journey-- how the hell did we not see you in the back seat?-- anyway, sorry for the harsh, but you are indeed relieved of your duties. That is, right after you fix this shit so we can all go home. Right now.”
Looking dejected despite a tattered, mustard-stained “Smile if you’re horny” shirt, Dancing Bear stumbled out of the car, put his hands together, closed his eyes, and began to mumble something in Canadian-accented Sanskrit. Wherever his spirit may have transcended off to, Wendy gave his physical form a raised-eyebrow scowl for a moment before excusing herself from this unproductive situation. It was getting late, and their family was expecting them back in time for dinner, in no small part because their task was to go find dinner. Thanks to the Bauers, the garden had provided in years past, but a major leak of the water tower, which flooded the root cellar, made it ill-prepared for the ravages of Moongazer’s bad trip last week, during which she somehow managed to eat - or at least thoroughly chew up - every last plant, including the cannabis. Wendy went off to find a payphone, leaving Dancing Bear and Starship to figure out what they could about the Angus.
To her surprise, the phone at home picked up immediately, and she smiled for about the first time that day - Dancing Bear’s shirt notwithstanding - upon hearing her husband Earl’s soothing drawl, and not that of one of the majority of tuned-in, turned-on, dropped-out, and useless space cases they shared a home with. “Hey honey, it’s me. You’re awake! Goodness, what time’d you get in last night?”
“Oh, real late. Wee hours. And I was exhausted. Tried to make it to our room but next thing I know, it’s morning, I’m on the couch with my shoes still on, you and Angie gone.”
“Yeah, I didn’t want to wake you, looking so peaceful, but I had a lot of errands lined up. Unfortunately, there’s a wrench in the works. Uh, did it leak any oil on you yesterday?”
“No, hasn’t leaked since Dancing Bear fixed it the other day… oh, don’t tell me he used patchouli oil again?”
“You know, I don’t believe in psychics, but you make me wonder sometimes. We’re stuck here in town until he summons whatever deities he shares a plane with to get it running again. Earl, sweetheart… are we gonna keep living like this? We’re more conscious beings nowadays, we’ve seen the light, and I do believe that sharing and communal life are the right way for our kind to live, for the human race to save itself, but…” She paused, then continued her thought from before. “When will I learn… when will we learn… that there have to be practical limits on who’s allowed to use expensive resources and how? That poor car… it was in fine shape when we crossed the whole damn continent and then the border in '68, but since we donated it to the common cause, it’s been driven into the ground!”
Earl took a breath. “I’ve been thinking… it doesn’t have to be all or nothin’, this lifestyle. I’m with you on modern day enlightenment, living with the earth, seeing our existence for what it is. And I’m with you that there have to be practical limits. I think our spell of this kind of communal living has been an invaluable experience, but not one to perpetuate. What do you say you and I and Henry move out from the Family, but stay as close neighbors? We’d get our own place, our own land, our own car. Stay friendly with our greater Family but not be stuck in it.”
“I think I’m with you there 100%. But we’ll need to rely more on money, wouldn’t we?”
“That’s another thing I’ve been thinking about. And I’ve got news about that, but it’s best told in person. Let’s just say for now that not always right away or the way you expected, but the universe provides, sooner or later.”
Wendy winced at this, about to launch a brief tirade on such sentiments often being used to mask incompetence, when a loud bang interrupted from the general direction of the Angus. On the other end of the phone line, she heard Earl’s breath and knew he heard it and what it meant.
They shared a moment of silence, before Earl spoke again. “We’ll be alright, darlin’, just tell me where you are and I’ll find some rig to come pick you up in. And the space cadets too, I guess.”
“So what’s this news you couldn’t tell me over the phone? Something to do with our crop, I gather?”
Earl grinned, the same boyish grin Wendy fell for 16 years ago, unmistakable despite the beard, the age, and the weathering over the years. “My pappy taught me farmin’ real good, it turns out, and not just for cotton and tobacco. Yesterday in Kelowna, I sold the 5 kilos we harvested just before Moongazer’s incident. The folks that picked it up - some city slickers from Vancouver, I think - said it was, I quote, ‘the dankest shit’ they’d smoked in years, going so far as to throw in another C-note for each kilo, as they put it, to invest in me as their long-term supplier. Between this and the last few deals, I’m feeling pretty good about our cash reserves, as well as the prospects of replenishin’ 'em.”
What we are and are not looking for
“Well, that sounds swell. With the Angus finally dead, though, we really need to get a car. Living 50 miles outside of town and having a couple of semi-reliable trucks that we have to share with a couple dozen others… doesn’t work.”
“Agreed. And this time, we should get something better-suited to life out here, not a RWD road car. Something that can haul our family around on the roads and off of them, something reliable, not too rough and basic.”
“What can we afford?”
“I’d like to keep it under $20k, but more importantly, I’d rather buy once, cry once, than get something that’ll die within a couple of years, or that we’ll wish would die.”
“What do we think about a truck? You know how cute I think you look behind the wheel of a pickup…”
They smiled at each other for a moment, before Earl answered. “Well, I thought about that, and I don’t think we should. Yes, an open bed is real useful sometimes, but those times are primarily when we’ve got so much to carry that we need a trailer anyway. Meanwhile, our main line of income relies in part on young plants not freezing during transport. Nor, for that matter, being easily seen or stolen.”
“Alright, that sounds like good reasons not to get a truck. So it’ll be one of them ‘sport utility’ offroader things?”
“Or a van.”
“What about a car, especially a station wagon, but that’s built for bad or no roads? I saw a picture of something with ‘Eagle’ in the name. It looked like a family wagon plopped onto a Jeep frame, with big ol’ mud tires and hefty-lookin’ runnin’ gear.”
“Huh. Now that I had not thought of. I s’ppose that could work too, provided it does ok offroad. Car-like comfort, or something even approachin’ it, would sure be welcome considering the distances around here.”
“Not to mention the fuel bill. Speaking of which, that’s one of a few reasons I’m thinking we should go for something mid-sized. I’m a much better driver than I was back in Carolina, but I didn’t like land yachts then and I still don’t.”
“Agreed. Smaller things do better offroad, too. And we’re trying to be more mindful about our ecological impact, as well. That said, it needs to reasonably fit three or four people and a good amount of stuff, for longer trips.”
“I suppose, like last time, you’d like it to be at least a little fun to drive, too?”
“I sure wouldn’t mind, but it’s not a priority. Off-road fun is its own type, and with the wide range of jobs we’ll have for this car, I doubt there’s much room left for sportiness.”
“Let’s see what opportunities the universe will provide us over the next several weeks…” They both rolled their eyes and shared the moment of laughter at a mutual irritant that before long would cease to affect them.
TL/DR summary: Earl and Wendy now live in the forests and mountains of interior British Columbia. They need a general-purpose vehicle that can handle the conditions.
Priorities
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Off-road. While the stat will be taken at face value by default, we reserve the right to override the score in either direction.
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Reliability. Engine and drivetrain are critical. Interior and entertainment, less important.
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Comfort. Over the years, they’ve gotten a bit older and less tolerant of overly utilitarian vehicles. Note that this stat is modified: torque, throttle response, and manual gearboxes will not reduce it. Also, the Sound Insulation modifier will be tripled.
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Fuel economy. Canada is huge and they’ll be covering meaningful distances here and there. Anything worse than 15L/100km or 15mpgUS had better show some compelling qualities elsewhere.
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Environmental resistance. BC winters are notoriously rusty, and they don’t want to worry about the earth prematurely reclaiming an otherwise functional car.
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Looks. It doesn’t need to exude 5-star glamour, but it should look competent and respectable.
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Drivability. Expectations are modest, but they’re there. While the stat will be taken at face value by default, we reserve the right to override the score in either direction. In particular, raising the ride height and tire diameter via ATS will get you a higher off-road score, but will incur a Drivability penalty. Unassisted steering off-road is viable for car-sized tires (up to c. 660mm or 26" OD), but once you start getting into 750mm/30"+, Drivability quickly plummets.
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Upfront and service costs. Bigger tires in ATS will cost more.
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Sportiness. Mountains mean lot of twisty roads and hillclimbs, so adequate power and roadholding are a part of Drivability. More than adequate levels of either are welcome, but we’ll take what we can get here.
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Safety. Not because it’s unimportant, but because of the stat being broken/exaggerated. Standard-grade on a ladder frame with no cut corners is fine, but more is of course better.
Stats explicitly disregarded because they are broken:
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Utility
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Practicality
Rules
General:
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$20k soft limit.
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$40M combined techpool.
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Mechanical realism expectations: 3/5 - should be somewhat plausible for the era and budget. The late 70s, however, have damn near everything, even in this segment. I don’t want to see DOHC transverse V16 with eco carbs, but boxer engines, all-double-wishbone, rear disk brakes, even 5-speed gearboxes… go for it.
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Stylistic realism expectations: 4/5 - it needs to look mid-70s at least plausibly, if not unequivocally. Somewhat older is ok; the 1957 SUV series look like mid-70s Fords, and are fine to use, as are the 1955 Predators.
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Trim year 1975. Model, family, and variant year 1975 or older.
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SUV, passenger van, cargo van, and station wagon bodies only. Exceptions may be granted for wagon-like hatchbacks and modified pickup truck bodies; feel free to discuss specifics with me over DM or Discord.
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The cost of the weight distribution slider will be deducted from the final price; use it freely.
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4/5 doors preferred, not required.
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No convertibles unless there is no hardtop equivalent available (such as for the 1980 SUV or the 2.3m 1975 SUV). In this case, make it look like a hardtop.
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Wheelbase ideally 2.6-3.0m, minus about 0.5m for van bodies. No limits per se; if you manage to get a 3.8m to have good Drivability, Off-Road, and running costs, or a 2.0m to have space-efficient packaging for adequate room, more power to you.
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No legacy bodies. Mod bodies generally ok, except for the 1978 TopKek series.
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No functional aero.
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No race parts.
Interior:
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Seats: at least five full-size seats.
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Interior modeling: seats and steering wheel required. Beyond that, increasingly detailed/high-effort interiors will get increasingly richer reviews, but will not affect scoring.
Running gear:
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Semi-trailing arm adds $1000. Rear double wishbone adds $2000.
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No penalty for radial tires, but bear in mind cross-plies are better off-road.
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Solid rear axles may not have any camber or toe deviation from zero.
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ATS is allowed except for tire width, wheel width, and wheel diameter. Tire diameter and sidewall/tread curvature ok, but diameter must be maxed out in engineering before increased in ATS.
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Tire sizes may end in zero.
Engines:
- Engines run either on gasoline (92 RON leaded) or diesel. If you choose to use diesel, the following rules apply:
** Architecture must be 2-valve, iron block and head(s). Bore/stroke ratios expected to be more undersquare than IRL. Compression ratios expected to be lower than IRL, in the 12-16 range.
** Bottom end may not use any “light” parts.
** Cam profile no higher than 10. VVT, VVL prohibited.
** Diesel fuel is simulated by compressed gas, LNG 150 RON. Fuel system options:
** Naturally aspirated diesels must have one muffler set to None. Turbodiesels may not have any mufflers. Dual exhaust is allowed.
- Regardless of fuel type, WES4 emissions must be met. Cats not required as such.
