Team Savage
Day 0
“Fuckin’ hell, Luke! Get your fuckin’ foot off the fuckin’ accelerator!” Mark Jasper said, hanging onto the stripped-down dashboard frame as Luke Sinistra raced the Sinistra Savage Concept through the streets and to the campsite where the race would start. Every stop sign and intersection turned into a roaring smoke-show as their brutal 464 cubic inch, tri-valve V8 spun up the front tires.
“Relax, I used to do this shit for a living.” Luke said, narrowly missing an utter shitbox as he swerved across the road and onto the gravel trail. Mark, despite having some rally experience, looked as white as a ghost, while Luke Sinistra had a determined look on his face. The wind roaring in through the open top whipped Luke’s long gray hair into a frenzy, giving the middle-aged man a wild, almost primal look.
Gravel sprayed from under the tires, showering the trees, other unfortunate drivers, and even getting some into the interior. “I swear, if I have to get a bucket and start bailing gravel out of this boat, Luke…” Mark said, just as Luke threw their front-wheel-drive lifted muscle car around another corner, and the campsite opened up in front of them as they shot out from under the trees.
“I told you I’ve done this before.” Luke said, parking the car in an open spot.
“Why the hell did I agree to be your co-driver… You’re fuckin’ crazy, you know that?” Mark said, starting to look better now that the engine wasn’t running, and he wasn’t being thrown around inside the converted convertible.
“Because you wanted to run a rally, and I heard about this one. C’mon, let’s go meet the other teams.” Luke said.
“Fix your hair first. Between it, and that scowl you always have, you look like a wolf.” Mark said. Luke laughed, then straightened up his hair into something that was still somewhat shaggy, but nowhere near as wild looking.
They left the Sinistra Savage sitting there with the top down, the Crimson Sky red paint gleaming in the sunlight, with the ‘concept’ plates being the only giveaway that the car wasn’t a production vehicle, but instead a highly-modified concept car.
“So, if they ask about our car, what do we say?” Mark asked.
“We’ve got nothing to hide. Tell 'em we’ve got a 464 cubic inch V8 with overhead cams, three valves per cylinder. It’s in the 1965 Savage Concept body, but we’ve given it a lift kit and stripped the interior, and managed to fit some cheap, but decent military tires under it. If anyone really wants to ask more about it, then tell them it’s front-wheel-drive. If they’re asking, obviously they don’t know we’ve been doing that since 1950.” Luke said.
“So, spare no details?” Mark asked.
“Exactly. I’m confident in our car. After all, if we break down, we’re just the fools who brought a front-wheel-drive muscle car to a rally race. Nothing unexpected. If we pull a minor miracle and win this, then we’re the heroes in the crazy front-wheel-drive muscle-rally-car who beat rear-drive and four-by-fours at their own game.” Luke said.