Stage 1
#426 CMW S946 Bergmann Special
“Get out of the way, you clueless nags!” Steffen shouted futilely, as the spooked horses stampeded across the road in front of him. Impatiently, he revved the engine of his race car, the Bergmann Special, unleashing an ungodly torrent of noise, which only served to make matters worse. “Gott im himmel, these beasts are going to be the end of me!” he thought to himself as the visibly angry farmer ran down to the fence line, gesticulating angrily and cursing in Fruinian at the little silver race car. The commotion has attracted the attention of the residents of the village nearby, a number of whom are chasing after the panicked horses in an attempt to corral them for the poor farmer. Before long, the Bergmann Special is surrounded by a crowd of villagers, in equal parts angry and bewildered by the sleek, silver race car.
Eager to get on his way again, Steffen reached over to the compartment beside him, where he kept a stash of his favourite German hard candies, and started passing them out the window to the children who gathered around. Quickly, the expressions of the crowd turned from anger to joy, and a smile returned to Steffen’s face as he motioned for a couple of the locals to push the car back on to the road. Firing up the engine, Steffen waved to the crowd as he peeled off into the distance, trying to make up lost time…
#26 FABEL Étoile 1400 Super
Peering into the engine compartment of the FABEL, Ruud Kocken squinted a little as he examined the carburetor of the #26 car. The Étoile 1400 struggled all throughout the first stage of the rally, not running particlarly well at any point, but well enough that the car still finished the stage nonetheless. Reaching in, he unscrewed the brass jet from the carburetor and peered at it intently.
“Hey Franck…do remember what size jet did we put in before we left?” Ruud shouted to Franck Steunebrink, who was making an adjustment to the Étoile’s brakes underneath, trying to avoid a repeat of the scary moment the team had in the first stage.
“150, I think…” Franck replied, “but we both agreed that with the altitude we’d re-jet to a 145 once we got here.”
“Do you remember re-jetting the carb before the first stage? Because I can’t…” Ruud said. Franck slid himself out from under the car, squinting as he tried to remember if he did or not.
“Can’t say that I do, to be honest. Do you think we forgot?” Franck replied.
“I know we forgot…this is a 150 jet right here.” Ruud said with a smirk.
“Well, I guess we have our explanation why this thing ran like shit all day!” Franck laughed. “We better pull the plugs too now, just to make sure we didn’t foul them up too badly.”
#61 Scagliati 265 Veneto Corsa
Ettore Mazzanti picks up the phone in the local cafe, grateful that the owner availed its use to him to make a long-distance call. “Yes, hello operator, I would like to place a collect call please, long distance,” he said, in passably Fruinian.
“What is the number?” the disembodied voice asked in the handset.
“Mirano Italy, 6307, please.” Mazzanti replied.
“Please hold while I make the connection.” The line went dead for a few minutes as Ettore smiled and shrugged at the cafe owner as he waited. The line came alive again as the operator re-connected. “What is the name of the caller, please?” She asked.
“Ettore Mazzanti,” he replied.
“Hello, this is Telefonica Fruinia with a collect call from Ettore Mazzanti in Fienna,” the operator said, “do you accept the charges?”
“Yes, thank you.” the woman at the other end of the call replied. A click as the operator disconnected and the woman began to speak. “Ettore? Buona sera! come stai? How is the rally going?” She asked.
“Franca, I am well bella, thank you! We are doing well; we placed the fourth-best time in class on this stage, and we are very fast…I feel good about our chances! Tell me, is old man Amadeo still in the office?”
“He’s just left for the day, I’m afraid…is there a message you’d like me to pass on?” Franca asked.
“If you wouldn’t mind…we had a bit of a mishap, did some damage to the front left fender of the car; nothing serious, Pietro’s hammering out the dent right now, but these Fruinians don’t exactly have much in terms of parts to support us. Would you be able to have someone send along a new set of front lights for the car, to meet us at the end of the second stage?” Ettore went on.
Franca paused for a moment, then replied; “yes, I got all of that…we will do what we can to get these parts to you. Good luck and be safe!”
“Thank you bella, and good night!” Ettore replied, and hung up the phone. Thanking the cafe owner with a generous tip, he returned to the car to help Pietro prepare the machine for the next stage…
#83 Sovereign 500 Luxe
Within half an hour of shutting down the Sovereign, Warren Young and Herb Dawson had become instant celebrities in Fienna, the car having been mobbed by excited and curious bystanders at the service park. Having run a quick but uneventful stage, the two men found themselves with little to do other than some basic prep work, so they made the most of their time and were showing the excited crowd around the car, letting people sit in it and experience the opulent luxury of the 500 Luxe.
Herb smiled as a young schoolboy sat wide-eyed in the driver seat, barely able to see over the dash, pretending he was driving the big coupe on his own Corso di Fruinia. Before long, boy’s father hurried the lad out of the car and shook Herb’s hand, pulling him in for a surprise hug as he did.
Meanwhile, Warren stood at the front of the car, explaining the various features of the Sovereign’s enormous V12 engine to a crowd of excited young men from the local technical university, all still in their overalls. Though there was a bit of a language barrier, Warren and the young men were able to come to an understanding, as the language of engineering transcends borders.
